TEN

There was a flight of metal steps up to a big industrial door, which had a steel sheet riveted over it. The door had a big lock, same as on the glass doors to the street. They got out and locked the car, Spence walked with no help and support and with much effort he acted like he had it all together. All under control. But truth was, THIS FUCKING HURTS! Yeah, big surprise, isn't it? He carried her briefcase and they walked to the steps and up to the door. She worked the lock and opened it for him. The lobby was empty and there was a single elevator opposite them.

"Ten." she said. Spence slammed his hand on eleven. Kathryn watched him do it and suddenly felt sorry for him. The last time she had seen him was when he was a doctor, and after that, it was as if he forgot her. Like she was just a memory, like he had found something much more important. He had been so miserable back then. His life sounded lonely to her. And it was…It was work, home, work, home. A life of never ending dying and carpools. After a while, she had figured out that he was really happy at work, even though he didn't show it, and that the reason was because he had nothing waiting for him at home. Just cold food and an invisible person to greet him. Happy to save lives…but what if karma turns around and bites you?

They entered the elevator and Spence leaned on the wall. Today should have been one of the worst days of his life, but it wasn't. It was one of the best. If he hadn't gone to meet Kathryn, where would he be now? Alone is some fucking bar, drinking god knows what, that's where. But there was also a reason for that. Even for that…because with beer, he would just fall asleep. He didn't have to think. Dream. Or wonder, 'what if'….what if…And most of all, he wasn't reminded in the same painful way, that he had nothing. They used the fire stairs and came back down to ten just in case. He had her wait on the landing and peered out.

It was a deserted hallway. Tall and Narrow. Apartment thirty nine to the left, forty to the right, and forty one straight ahead. Her door was black and thick. Spy hole at eye level, two locks. She used the keys and they went inside. She locked up again and dropped an old hinged bar into place, right across the whole doorway. Spence pressed it down in its brackets. It was iron, and as long as it was there, nobody else was going to get in. He put her briefcase against the wall as she flicked the switch and the light came on. She relaxed and knew he wasn't. It was obvious and this reaction made her look directly away from him, more tense than she'd been all day. He noticed this and understood.

She was just standing right beside him, and they were both leaning on the door as if trying to keep someone out, her sweatshirt cuffs way down over her hands, fidgeting. He had no idea what was wrong with her. They were safe, weren't they? "…Are you…okay?" he asked and finally, she looked at him. A look of arousing appreciation passed between them. He looked at her, something visible in his eyes. She just didn't know what. Kathryn looked deep into his eyes, remembering how much she had missed her best friend, and in an instant, she snapped back into reality and ducked her head forward and back in a figure eight to drop her hair behind her shoulders. She pushed herself from the door and walked further into the living room. "I'm going to take a shower," she said. "You know, hit the sack…"

"Hell of a day, right?"

She paused by the door and looked back, smiling warmly at him, "Unbelievable." her eyes looked him up and down, and she smiled once more. "Goodnight, Mr Jackass." and with that, she disappeared down the inner doorway. He heard her bedroom door open and close. He stared after her for a long moment, surprised. It was usual for her to forget. Especially about something as big as a guy bleeding to death in your spare room. But he was completely fine with it, he didn't want her to worry about anything else and she told him where the health kit was anyway.

He pushed himself from the door and looked around the apartment as he walked further into the living room. It wasn't really a loft, as such. It was like an old building with very high ceilings, was all. The shell was original. It had probably been industrial. The inside walls was like the outside walls, sandblasted brick. The windows were huge and the floor was pale maple strips. The décor was cool and neutral, like an art gallery of some shit. No offence or anythin'. There was no sign that more than one person had ever lived there. No sign of two tastes competing. The whole place was very unified.

There was a tall cabinet opposite the smallest sofa, and was a small TV in it, a video, cable box, a CD player with a pair of large headphones plugged into the jack. A small stack of CDs, mostly rock and roll or sad songs that would cheer you up. He picked one up and looked at it. Celine Dion. Hm. --"Celine Dion is Canadian Treasure, you know."--King would have loved that. But King was gone. He had left…just like everyone else in his life. A little sad, I know, but he wasn't going to take pity. It hurt him too much, and he was man enough to admit it.

He glanced out the window. There was the constant wash of traffic hum, neon blaze from up and down the street, an occasional siren wailing and booping and blasting loud as it came out through the gaps between blocks. The kitchen was huge and tall. All the cupboards were wood, and the appliances were industrial sizes in stainless steel, like pizza ovens. He had lived in places smaller than the refrigerator. He pulled it open and saw a dozen bottles of Jack Daniels. Maybe she had changed. Maybe they had grown apart. Maybe…she didn't look at him as her best friend anymore…

The mere idea scared him. It scared her that her mother had thought of him as family. "It bothered the hell out of me…and one day, I'll tell you exactly why…" He closed the fridge with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand. He noticed the photograph of her and her mother stuck to the fridge with a magnet. Did she hate him for leaving? He took the health kit with him to the spare bedroom. The walls were a natural brick colour and everything was dark and cozy, like it had been in her mother's house. He put the Jack Daniels on the night table and used the bathroom, he carefully took his shirt off and slowly and patiently tried to dress the wound, wincing from time to time. The bathroom had white tiles, white sink, white tub, but everything else was decorative.

Illusion and reality. What was nine years, anyway? A lot, he guessed as he threw back the cover and slid into bed. He fell into thinking. She was nice, smart, and goddamn beautiful. Other men would have done something. Why wasn't he? Maybe it wasn't because of the best friend thing. Maybe it wasn't because of the fact that she hated him, the fact that she looked tense and suspicious around him. Maybe it was just her mother. She was her daughter, and always would be. It gave him the guilty illusion she was somewhere between his kid sister and his niece. But still, her mother was dead so why not now? As his eyelids closed, he didn't even have any idea why he was asking himself this, maybe it was because it was just unusual…All he knew was that he did love her, in a way a brother would love his sister, but what he didn't know was that on the other side of the wall, Kathryn was thinking the same exact thing…

What was nine years, anyway? A lot, he guessed as he threw back the cover and slid into bed. He fell into thinking. Maybe it wasn't because of the best friend thing. Maybe it wasn't because of the fact that she hated him, the fact that she looked tense and suspicious around him. Maybe it was just her mother. She was her daughter, and always would be. It gave him the guilty illusion she was somewhere between his kid sister and his niece. But still, her mother was dead so why not now? As his eyelids closed, he didn't even have any idea why he was asking himself this, maybe it was because it was just unusual…All he knew was that he love her, in a way a brother would love his sister, but what he didn't know was that on the other side of the wall, Kathryn was thinking the same exact thing…

Reeford Royals had driven home at the normal time and said nothing to his wife. There was nothing he could say. The deal with Daniel Nightshade had left him bewildered. His whole world had turned inside out in about two days. He just couldn't get a handle on it. He planned to ignore it until morning and then go see Nightshade to try and talk some sense. In his heart, he didn't believe he could save her…The young woman in the photograph…his daughter……..

Kathryn Royals.

Kathryn woke early that morning, which was unusual for her. Normally, she slept soundly right up to the point when her father and mother appeared in her dream, shouting angrily. She remembered that night. The night when her father had packed up and left them. Her mother was crying…as if someone had just died. And to Kathryn, it felt exactly like that. And that ended up to the point when her alarm went off and she had to drag herself out of bed and into the bathroom, sleepy and slow. But that morning, she was awake an hour before she had to be, alert, breathing lightly, heart racing gently in her chest after her mother started appearing in her dream, telling her about something, warning her. But she didn't hear what she was saying. She was pointing at Kathryn's car, shouting. Her voice was faint.

Her bedroom was cozy, like all her rooms, and her bed was a king with a wood frame the same colour as her floor, set with the head against the wall opposite the window. The guest room was back to back with her room, laid out in exactly the same way, symmetrically, but in reverse, because it faced in the opposite direction. Which meant that his head was about eighteen inches away from hers. Just through the wall. Not that it meant anything but it always felt odd when he was around. Like something stupid and dangerous was about to happen.

Yesterday should have been the worst day of her life. She had buried her mother, her 'last' relative on earth. She had been attacked by guys with guns. People she knew were in therapy for much less. She should be prostrate with misery and shock. But she wasn't. Yesterday had been the best day of her life. He had appeared like some sort of wonderful illusion right at her doorstep. Her best friend. Her heart was thumping excitedly in her heart, ready for danger, like a drug howling through her veins, like claps of thunder. She had just finished showering when she finally stopped thinking about it and spent five minutes on her teeth with her new toothbrush. She spat in the sink and looked at herself in the mirror, laughed slightly when she smiled and then dried off. Kathryn's hair was dark with water and wore on oversized white T-shirt that finished above her knees and wandered through to the kitchen for something to eat.

Spence was in there, fresh from the shower, his brown hair wet and dark was spiked up, and he was wearing jeans without a shirt, thanks to the bullet wound. She caught her breath. Yep, thaaaannnk you bullet wound! He looked her up and down. "Morning, Kathryn."

"Morning, Spence." she said back. She sat down and she found herself looking at him. her eyes were all over him. Something in her face. "The wound…" she looked up at his face. "…how is it?" he squinted down and winced as he straightened up and leaned back in his chair. "It--it hurts…" he said, nodding in agreement to himself. He looked pale and didn't look well…not one bit. "You sick?" she asked. "I heard you coughing last night…"

"A little bit…"

"Hold on. I got something." she turned around and opened the cupboard just above the fridge. Her hand wandered around until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a brown bag and opened it, pulling out the Vics Vaporub ointment. Kathryn sat down in front of him and unscrewed the cap. Pierced the metal seal with the plastic spike and scooped some out with her hand. "Hey…" he said when she came close. She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "…You wanna do it?"

"No." he whined like a five-year-old but he let her do it anyway. She rubbed some into his bare chest and concentrated, trying not to hurt him in any way because of the few bruises he had, her tongue was between her teeth as she concentrated. She was sure she had stopped breathing as soon as she touched him. Her heart started racing and her breathing got more difficult. She stepped away when he coughed. "Hurting?" she asked. "What?" She repeated, "Was I hurting you?"

"Yeah." Spence said. "Well…" she paused, thinking of something to say. Anything. "…But you needed it." He relaxed. "I guess," he said and she carefully continued, and soon, the crisis was past. She screwed the cap back on and he moved away, relaxing on the chair. She put the ointment on the table as he ate an apple. "I'll go and get dressed." she said. "We should get moving." He raised his bottle of water in a fraction of response and she disappeared back into her bedroom. He stood up and ate the apple as he shrugged on a shirt and tucked it in. He found his socks and shoes and jacket. Strolled through to the living room to wait.

Daniel Nightshade had the hand of the woman from before and carried it back to the office at six twenty. It was wrapped in the plastic, parcelled up in yesterday's Post and tucked carelessly under his arm. He had skipped breakfast that morning but what really ticked him off was the fact that he was forced to drive through the park which he truly hated because it reminded him too much about his childhood. He had parked in the underground garage and rode up to the correct floor. Brandon was already at the brass-and-oak counter. But he could tell from the stillness that nobody else was in.

He held up the plastic bag, like a trophy. "Can you get rid of this?" he threw the plastic bag and the new guy caught it one-handed. "Okay, Mr. Nightshade." There was a small office kitchen off the reception lobby. It was cramped and messy, like office kitchens are. Coffee rings on the counters, mugs with stains on the inside. The refrigerator was a miniature item under the counter and Brandon shoved milk and fruits aside and folded the bag into what space was left. "Your nose okay, Brandon?" Danny asked. He was now in the kitchen doorway. Brandon paused and looked directly inside the fridge, Danny was smiling behind him. Brandon had a bruise on his face from yesterday, thanks to Mr. Angelo, "…Yes, of course, sir."

"Good…because target for today is Ms. Skyler. Neighbours say she always leaves at seven o'clock, walks to work." Danny said casually. "It's a couple of blocks from here." Brandon nodded and straightened up to face his boss. Danny nodded.

"I'll drive…you take care of the target."

Spence had put some good thought into it. Truth was, he didn't learn all this shit from hunting vampires. He learned it on one of those boring, rainy days where you stay inside and talk…with King. Hannibal King knew almost everything there was to criminals, kidnapping, and other sorts of crime. They would sit down and watch a couple of movies and King would helpfully point out what the cops did wrong, what real cops would have done and he also predicted things before they happened.

He bent forward from the waist and put his whole upper body out through the window. He craned his head around to the right and gazed down the street. He looked at the scene. There was nothing obvious. Nothing to worry about yet. It was pretty clear what they were going to aim for and do. And Spence was ready for that.

"I'm ready," Kathryn called to him.

A/N: Haha...so bored.
Suck at action, suck at..at...car chases...and story plots..and...and...action.
Suck at a lot of things but I'm still trying, aren't i?