Disclaimer: I do not own the concept or characters from the show "Supernatural." Any other characters not related to the show, The Vampire Diaries or Nightwold series, however, are mine and are not to be used in any other fan fiction. Some concepts were also borrowed or loosely adapted from L.J. Smith's "Nightworld" and "The Vampire Diaries" series. The original stories were developed using SPN episode content up until 02/11/10 and this one may include anything up through 2019. I will not include any spoilers for future episodes of Season 15, though my story took its turn after SPN Season 4. This is the start of a new trilogy. The first trilogy is: "Possession," "Broken," and "Sacrifice," followed with a new trilogy, "Mission," "Prelude," and "Bound." This story takes place where Prelude left off and has the same characters from the first trilogy. I do not own any quotes used in the actual episodes.
April woke up alone in the middle of her bed the next morning. Wait...alone? Had she imagined everything from the day before? Dreamed it? She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and rolled over, her face nuzzling in the pillow as she stretched. It hit her like a slap in the face—that musky-sweet earthiness reminded her of jumping into a pile of Autumn leaves.
His scent.
Gawd. She hadn't imagined it at all. He was alive and came back to her.
April smiled to herself, her grin making her cheeks hurt, before taking the pillow into her arms, sniffing it like a weirdo. Yeah, sniffed it, like an unremarkably dorky, teenage girl kind of weirdo. Dear Lord, what the absolute hell was happening to her? She dropped the pillow beside her after realizing she had no idea if he was still in the house. And he could walk into the room at any moment and see her ridiculousness. And there was no doubt in her mind that he'd make fun of her for it. And never, ever let her forget it either.
But either way, he was alive and in bed—her bed—all night. The mere thought made her stomach do acrobatics. Though, there had been no fooling around of any kind the night before. All they did was hold each other all night, not that they had much choice on her small bed, and she was so fucking happy she could burst. Like a totally 80s bedroom dancing movie montage ala Adventures in Babysitting happy. It was the first little shred of optimism she'd had in months. And those stomach gymnastics merged with another feeling eating away at her gut—guilt. Should she even feel happy right then? Did she have the right to feel glad when her mom was dead? Did she deserve it when she was the reason her mother was gone?
The distinctive clink and crackle of glass somewhere in her room interrupted her thoughts, causing her to instantly shut her eyes and wince.
Shit.
Not again.
With a heavy sigh, April sat up, shuffling the downy white comforter to her feet as she sat on the side of her twin bed, and looked around her room. Her eyes scanned, trying to find what the hell had busted this time. The glass lamp on the end table was fine.
The ceiling fan was okay.
Nothing moved on her desk.
Her phone and laptop, thankfully, were too.
The mirror above her tall dresser was fine. Her eyes shifted to the wall with all of her pictures and posters across from her bed.
She hopped out and scanned the photos, some framed, some just held to her boysenberry colored walls with thumbtacks. The walls her mom had painted with her when she was old enough to pick out her room paint color. The walls littered with so many photos from high school with her friends. There were some others with her dad fixing cars. Two of them were of Jesse from prom. Her fingers lingered on the photo. Jesse. God, just another thing to feel guilty about and not only his death. She had cared for him, sure, but not the same way she had for Wes. And the worst part was; in the end, he had known that and made sure Wes got to her in his last act.
A slight glint off something on that wall drew her gaze. It reflected the sunlight coming in through the gaps in the blinds on her window above her bed. Her eyes moved over it, a lump forming in her throat. It was her and her mom before prom, standing together downstairs before they left. It seemed like years ago, a lifetime ago. Regardless of the amount of time that had elapsed, April was now a completely different person. She had always prided herself on being tough and resilient, but...that experience had proved she was neither. There was a crack in the glass over her mother's image, the damage spidering out to the edge of the frame
Great.
Just what she wasn't looking forward to. Ever since she made it home, her telekinesis was on the fritz, and she had never had that issue. She still wielded control over it most of the time...but her emotions...well, those were creating a problem-a big problem. Lightbulbs popped. Doors slammed. Cabinets banged. Glass objects breaking. The only good thing was her little brother hadn't caught on and just attributed the broken items to April's klutziness or other explainable phenomena like drafts.
Dylan, on the other hand, had noticed—because of course, her twin would. And she also knew damn well that she was the reason he had left. He couldn't deal with her wallowing in her own crapulence anymore. Not that she could blame him; it probably made him feel like absolute shit being an empath. Lucky for him, he could just leave and not worry about it, though in her heart she knew he was still worrying. It was their bond.
Unfortunately for her, she didn't have the luxury to just up and leave to hunt as her brother and father did. Even if she did, she doubted it would change anything. The sorrow of loss had become a part of her, wrapping around her chest like a permanent corset, never really allowing her to take a deep breath. And instead of it getting looser as time went on, the laces were tightening, each day felt like it was a little tighter than the day before. And everything that used to bring her joy; friends, family, cars... She dropped it all. She just didn't...care anymore. And that was dangerous. She knew that she felt it in her bones.
She just needed to deal. That was it. She could do it. She just had to keep it together day by day.
April sighed and stretched up, getting a good one from the tips of her toes to her fingernails. She looked down and noticed that her jeans were gone, leaving her only in her panties. She froze. How did those get off last night? She had no clue. The sounds of sizzling and popping noise greeted her from downstairs, followed by the most mouth-watering aroma made her stomach growl.
Food. Real honest-to-god food.
Having been so used to toaster pastries and dry-just-add-water concoctions from box staples that the smell of an actual meal was...ugh...yeah, it was good.
Her stomach decided she would worry about her missing pants later. She tossed arms into her soft knee-length white robe, tying it around her waist, before heading down the hall. Her feet barely hit the stairs before she stood at the bottom, finding a familiar figure with dark chocolate hair, a white shirt, and gray sweatpants in front of the stove. His head was down, focusing on whatever he was making on the stove. His arms and hands were working with a...spatula?
She forgot she had given him Dyl's clothes the night before. The short-sleeved t-shirt showed off the muscles in his shoulders and arms as he moved, slightly straining against the fabric. The pants were just a hair too long on him, and he had cinched in the drawstring at the waist. Wes was muscular but lean, and he had those indents by his hips that boys got from doing something…yeah...and that back view was…
Then she realized she was leaning against the island, leering at him—just utterly checking him out like a goddamn creeper.
"Mornin'," he greeted, thankfully not bothering to turn around. He was too busy doing whatever he was doing on the other counter.
"Good morning," she muttered as she walked over to the kitchen table, finding a plate set up with eggs and toast and two steamy cups of coffee. He spun around and slid fresh bacon off of a sizzling pan onto her plate.
She took a seat at the table, admiring the dish in front of her.
Holy freaking crap.
It looked as delicious as it smelled. Considering Wes didn't even eat food like that, color her surprised and impressed. "Didn't know you could cook, Wes?"
"I'm a man of many talents, April." Yeah, she could vouch for at least a couple, and she was all about finding out any others.
"Well, you certainly know the way into a girl's heart." Or pants, she awkwardly joked to herself, heat rising from her chest to her face.
"Is it always bacon," he laughed, his lips kicking up into a grin. He came up behind her to kiss the top of her head before taking the seat beside her.
"Always," she replied while chewing. With that first bite of that sweet brown sugar and hickory bacon, she swore that if he asked her to marry him right then, she would say yes. She'd do whatever he wanted—anything. "Oh, my God! What's with this bacon?! It's pork magic."
She's pretty sure the moan that unwittingly came out of her was similar to what she sounded like in bed. Actually, from the way he looked at her with a secretive smile, one eyebrow raised, she was very sure of that.
"Candied bacon," he grinned, leaning his elbow on the table, resting against his hand as he watched her eat. "Glad you like it. I'm glad I remembered the recipe. Learned that from my mom."
Mom.
April dropped her trembling fork on the glass dish with a clang and a glass shattered in a cabinet across the room. Wes's eyes widened as he turned to the direction of the broken glass before they turned their attention back to her. He raised an eyebrow.
Fuck.
Seriously, she had to get it together. How many times had she lost it recently? How many things have just shattered when she thought of something sad? The last incident before that morning, she almost blew the door to the basement off the damn hinges. Thank god she had been the only one home at the time.
She stopped eating, trying to steady herself as the catch next to her sternum came back. Why did it feel like she had been stabbed in the chest too?
It was weird when she closed her eyes, she got flashes and could almost hear her mom yelling at her to hurry up and get her butt to school. She could see the epic cake batter fight that they had in the kitchen, her dad looking at them like they were crazy. That is until her mom flung some right at her dad, and then it was on. Neither of her parents liked to lose. It sucked being surrounded by so many good memories.
"April? April? Open your eyes."
She opened her eyes to find his gaze level with hers. His thumb caressed her cheek, his palm a soothing touch on her jawline.
"Are you okay," he asked, his eyes searching hers.
She tilted her head. "Yeah, why?" She was usually a pretty good liar, so she thought she could play it down.
His lips were in a tight line, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced towards the kitchen. April followed his line of sight and gasped. All the cabinet doors had flown open, a few cups and plates scattered in pieces on the floor.
Double fuck. Yeah, there was no playing that down.
He turned his eyes back to her, and his hand worked from her jaw up to her hair. The way he brushed her hair was so soothing, almost hypnotic, that she could barely focus on anything else. "How long has this been going on?"
"What the explosive outbursts…oh, you know, just since I've been home," April admitted with a shrug and a sigh, still trying to brush off like it was no big deal. But they both knew it was. Her abilities needed to be in control, or else she was a liability. The truth was she needed to get everything under control.
His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with worry. God, she didn't want him to worry about her. That was the last thing she needed.
"Do you miss her—your mom," April asked Wes with sudden honesty, knowing that his mom had been dead for a long time. His hand stopped. Hunters, he had told her once. His dark eyes met her green, now filled to the brim with tears, giving her an understanding, sad smile. He once again ran his hand through her black hair, pushing pieces lovingly behind her ears.
"Everyday," he admitted, his voice working around the word. He stood, coming up behind April, wrapping his strong arm around her chest, pinning her arm to her side. "It gets easier, eventually. At some point, it doesn't hurt to think about them, and you'll be able to remember the good stuff without it hurting too. I wish I could tell you when. But you got to remember that you are still here—you have a life. It's okay to live and breathe. You can't let this consume you and let it overpower you to the point where it controls you. Okay?" He kissed the top of her head again.
She shook her head, trying to focus and ignore the visions all around her. At least Wes was encouraging. That was a hell of a lot more she was getting from the rest of the fam. He sat back down beside her as she finished her breakfast, using her phone to check out national news stories.
"So where's your Dad," Wes inquired, changing the subject, his fingers scrolling through the pages. He then put the phone down and took a good gulp of his steaming coffee.
That was a damn good question and one that brought up bitterness that was hard for her to control. She heard the cup of coffee in front of her rattle. Wes looked at her from the corner of his eye. She slowed down, took a breath, and took control. The cup stopped shaking. Wes's corner of his mouth tipped up.
"Don't know. Why?"
"I don't know, there's some weird stuff happening in Kentucky and Ohio—meteorological stuff. Mysterious deaths. It sounds like it's right up their alley, right?"
"Probably. I don't know," April paused to take another bite of heavenly bacon. Bacon was making everything better. "I'm not talking to Dad anyway. He came home, and just sort of took off and left us with Cas and Gwen. Then Dyl left to hunt with Sonora, and I went off on a few hunts by myself— "
She stopped when she saw the have-you-lost-your-mind stare Wes shot her with that tidbit of information.
"Yes, I know, I shouldn't go alone blah blah blah. But, since Jamie is here, and I just can't let him be alone right now, I'm on lockdown, ya know? Someone needs to be here for him. So, I'm trying. I'm failing, but I'm trying. I can barely hold it together myself as it is as you can see," she confessed, pointing her fork to the disaster in the kitchen.
April finished almost all of the delicious meal, which was surprising considering she hadn't been eating much in either human or vampire food for days. She scraped the remnants of the crumbs into the trash and put her dirty dish and cup in the dishwasher. Then the two of them worked to clean up all the glass she had inadvertently shattered during breakfast.
By the time she had tossed the last bag of glass into the trash, Wes was already on the couch in the family room. He was lounging with his arm on the back like it was his place. She blurred over to his side, leaning into him as he dropped that arm around her shoulder, resting his hand on her forearm.
"Do you know last night is the first night I've slept in...god I don't even remember," she openly admitted while stretching out her legs. "The first I've slept—well since that night with you."
He shifted, peering down at her with wide eyes. "You're telling me your last decent night of sleep was in the dungeon months ago?"
"Yep, that's what I'm saying. Sad, isn't it?"
His hand rubbed her arm, his fingertips lightly brushing her skin, causing her to shiver. She pressed her cheek into her chest. God, she missed him. It was bringing up a lot of memories of what they had done in the dark that day locked up when everything had changed between them. It was strange. She didn't feel any different about him, not at all. She couldn't be happier to have him back. But there was a strain between them, something unspoken since he came back. He was distant and almost hesitant. But she couldn't deny that would be natural considering they had both been through a lot—maybe it was just going to take time to get back to where they were?
"What is it, April?"
"Hmm?" She gazed up at him, meeting his eyes through her full lashes.
"Well, you're usually not this quiet. So, you're thinking. So, what is it?"
Her head lowered. "Nothing."
She could feel his eyes still on her. "April…"
"Fine. Just us that day is all." She shut her eyes and winced at the revelation, suddenly feeling self-conscious over her admission.
His fingers stopped stroking her arm, and his muscles tensed under her cheek. She could tell by his reaction that he had been thinking about it as well but didn't want to bring it up.
"Do you regret it," he suddenly asked.
Woah. April sat straight up, shaking her head. "No. No. Why...do you?"
He started shifting uncomfortably. Oh crap. April's heart dropped to her stomach. He twisted his body on the sofa a little to face April.
CRAP.
Her thoughts drifted back to a conversation they had a year or so ago, right after they had first met.
"I've told you before, I don't date anymore."
"Just hookups," April asked.
"Well, I don't refer to them like that, but you're correct," Wes clarified.
"So...why not hook up with me?"
Wes turned to her and rolled his eyes. "April Winchester, you don't learn, do you?"
"So, first, I can see the wheels turning, so get those thoughts running through your head out right now because I can see it in your eyes that you're waiting for the bottom to drop out. April, I wasn't lying when I said I love you," he stopped to smile, taking her hand and lightly kissing the back. Her heart squeezed. "Do I regret what we did? Yes and no."
Yes and no? Oh sweet baby Jesus, what the hell did that mean?
"Why," she asked as she nervously bit her lower lip, a move that drew his gaze to her mouth. "I thought we had a good time."
"No, we did...I definitely did. I mean, it was amazing. You're amazing. I just...we were under high levels of stress. And maybe...we might have let things get carried away because of that. Maybe used it for coping?"
"Hell of a way to cope if you ask me," she mischievously grinned. He chuckled at that, his thumb stroking the back of her hand that he still held in his. It was funny now how her breath could hitch at the lightest of his touches.
Her phone dinged. She had a text. "One sec."
It was from Dylan. Good to at least get a line that he was okay. Her brother had a lead on a local case, but he was stuck with a Rugaru thing in Missouri on his way to Nebraska. He was wondering if she could take care of it. It was just a few towns over. Dyl had already researched with the help of another local hunter who was out nursing some pretty gnarly injuries.
The soon-to-be-hunted was a werewolf with a name. Perfect.
"Okay, we're done chick flicking for a minute. I've got a job, and it's gonna be a dog day afternoon," she announced, scrambling up from the couch. His hand shot out and grasped her wrist.
"Wait. Hell Hound or Wolf?"
"The latter."
Wes got up and stood in front of her, still keeping a grip on her wrist."Yeah, you're not taking on a werewolf alone."
She wiggled her hand free. "No sweat, I'll call Gwen," she said while moving around him to get to the stairs. He blocked her from the stairs.
"Don't bother. I'm coming with."
Her eyes skimmed to his splinted injured arm. She wasn't sure of the extent of the damage, but she'd be damned if he was going to get hurt over protecting her again.
"Wes, no offense, but you're still hurt—"
"And, yet, I'm still stronger than you, April." Ouch. Even if that was true, he didn't have to say it. "And how many wolves have you tangled with? One? Maybe two? I've taken on hundreds. I can help you and keep you company on the stakeout at the very least."
She looked at him, wondering if he was just doing this because she was a girl—and she knew that was a cheap shot. He trusted in her abilities as a hunter; he just was doing what she had promised her dad she would do. She couldn't go by herself. And after all, how could she say no to those midnight eyes?
"Fine," she conceded, throwing up her arms, realizing too late that the hem of her robe came up with it to just above mid-thigh before they flapped down at her side. The little tip to the corners of his mouth told her that hadn't gone unnoticed either. "Get dressed. Just grab something out of Dyl's dresser. It's the door across the hall from mine. I'll meet you in the car in ten minutes. I've got to text Gwen real quick and just let her know where Jamie is staying and that I'll be out. I'll ask Jamie if he can spend the night again just in case."
She blurred up the stairs to her room, closing the door before digging a black t-shirt out of her dresser. She found her missing jeans under the bed. She must have kicked them off the night before like she tended to do when she'd pass out in bed after a hunt. Her feet slipped into her combat boots, and she grabbed her duffel bag before heading out the door with her gear. She stuttered when she looked back at the dresser. April grabbed her sunglasses and saw a familiar silver necklace hanging by her jewelry. It was the one that her mother had spelled to stop her powers when she was growing up.
Hell.
She needed it on, just in case. Nothing would scream supernatural freak like a girl breaking everything with her mind. She threw it on over her head, put on her shades, and headed to the garage.
Of fucking course, he was already lounging in the passenger seat of her Mustang with his head back as he waited forever. Typical. He had on borrowed jeans, a black t-shirt, and a swiped pair of aviators that his brother would kill him if he knew Wes borrowed. So they were basically twinning. He tipped the sunglasses down, his dark eyes scanned over her from top to bottom like a caress. Was he checking her out? He totally was.
"What," she asked, knowing full well that they were dressed the same and hoping that he wasn't going to point it out, and in their game of who wore it better, it was a toss-up.
"Nothing," he smirked with a shrug, pushing the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. "So, are we leaving, or what? Because it's thirteen minutes now, and I thought you said ten, and you know how I feel about punctuality."
Seriously? If he kept it up, he'd know her foot up his ass. Her eyes rolling in the back of her head was met with his laughter. As she got in the driver seat, she slammed the door behind for emphasis. The keys jingled off of her El Sol keychain as she put them into the ignition. She gripped the steering wheel, the leather creaking under her fingers. He was still reclining, his elbow leaning against the door, and one foot propped on the seat...and she could feel his eyes on her through the sunglasses. He was looking smug and attractive as fuck.
"Let's get one thing straight before we leave," she said, twisting to him, lowering her voice, leaning closer, so she was over the center console for emphasis. "I'm going to make this crystal clear, and I'm only going to say this once. This is my case. I make the calls on this. Got it."
Wes's lips quirked up into a sexy grin, and he leaned towards her, his mouth just inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her lips when he spoke.
"Yes ma'am. I've got no problem with that. Plus, you're undeniably hot when you take charge," Wes answered in a low, sultry tone, tilting his glasses down to wink. Good fucking lord. Her eyes rolled back again. "Keep it up, April, and we'll be doing something else that will cause your eyes to roll back, but for an entirely different reason."
A warm tension spread through her body, her toes curling in her boots. Dammit. If Wes kept talking like that, they probably wouldn't even make it out to hunt. At least the day wouldn't be boring with him around.
"You're lucky you're cute, and I love you. Sometimes I think I was better off when I hated you," April murmured with a half-grin, putting the car into gear and heading to their destination.
"Ouch, and after I made you bacon and everything this morning. Besides, I know for a fact that you always thought I was 'cute' even when you detested me," he teased.
Thanks to the intel Dylan's contact provided, they tracked down their target, an eighteen-year-old named Miles Dupree. Local high school varsity track star and taking some time to be with his friends and girlfriend before he headed off to college. And thanks to social media, they knew he was heading to the Lombard's local summer festival.
"That can't be him, can it," she questioned, going over the information Dylan had sent her. She compared the photo to the athletic blonde teen crossing the street to the festival, arm-in-arm with a beautiful, slender redheaded girl. "He looks so— "
"Normal? Yeah, that sounds funny coming from a half-vampire. But yeah, that's him," Wes confirmed over her shoulder. "Come on, let's tail him till dark."
April and Wes got out of her Mustang and made their way around the fair, keeping their distance but keeping the couple in view. Man, that girl he was with didn't know the danger she was in. As they did their recon, they looked around at what the fairgrounds offered. It was typical; craft booths, food, rides, games, and live music. Summer was almost over, so some of the craft stations were geared towards fall and the approaching holidays, things April was not particularly ready for—especially not without…
A palm pressed against her left hand, his fingers interlaced with hers, giving her a quick squeeze. She smiled and squeezed back.
And they continued walking hand-in-hand as they strolled around together. The two of them looked just like any regular couple at a typical fair on a hot, slightly breezy, summer day. And even though they were working a case, it was kinda...nice.
They found themselves wandering up the game alley. Miles decided to try his hand at the hoops to win his date some stupid stuffed animal. Typical. But, not wanting to look suspicious, April decided to play a game or two. They walked right past the hoops and found one more up her alley a few down and stopped at a shooting gallery themed to an Old West ghost town full of skeleton cowboys and ghosts.
"I hate to be the one to break this to you, but the game's rigged," Wes came up behind her and whispered in her ear, his arm around her waist.
She just rolled her eyes. Of course, it was, and her daddy raised no fool. They always screwed with the line of sight and the barrel. She just had to adjust.
"Want your man to win you a prize, sweetheart," the sleazy carnival barker asked, the slick misogyny rolling off his tongue.
Her shoulders tensed. Sweetheart? Oh damn, it was so on.
Wes snorted and chuckled. "No, she'll be the one playing. I think she's going to win me something. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" She shot him a look over her shoulder.
The creepy carnival barker's eyebrow raised incredulously. "Oh really—you sure you're up for that, honeypie?"
Fuck yes, she was up for it. April angrily slammed down a five-dollar bill and picked up the rifle that was attached with a wire to the counter. Screw this dude.
April shot Wes a death glare over her shoulder and glanced down at her waist. He removed his arm and backed away with his hands up. She was not playing around.
Go! She nailed every stupid ghost and zombie cowboy target that popped up, barely flinching. By the end of the game, the score was April 20 - Ghost Cowboys 0. No mistakes. She tossed the rifle down on the counter with her hands up like a challenge. Dad would be proud.
"Holy...shit. Wow. We've got a winner! You can have anything you want. Whatcha want, sweetheart?" She looked up at all the giant stuffed animals, all of them horror-themed for the game.
"Um, give me the bat, dollface."
"One vampire bat for Annie Oakley," the carny said, handing it over the counter to her.
"Here," she said, spinning around to face Wes. "Look what I got you. I want to suck your BLOOD! Bleh!" She held up the bat, complete with fangs, and stuck her tongue out. "Oh, that's really cute," Wes teased, stepping forward and leaning close to give her a light kiss. It was just a brush of their lips, but she could feel it much lower. He stepped closer, his breath on her cheek. "They're in the funhouse, by the way. Do you want to see what's going on? Or do you want to do the dart balloon throw, which I'm sure you could whoop that little girl's ass over there?"
"Nah. Let her win. Actually, I don't want to carry this big thing around all day either," April smiled. She approached the girl about to play the darts, giving her the giant bat, which elicited a huge smile from the blonde. "Alright, let's try to wait for them at the end of the funhouse."
They made their way over to the exit of the building, leaning against the building, and waited; nothing. They didn't come out. Weird.
"Are you sure they went in here, Wes? Miles and the redhead?"
"Positive. I saw them go in the front right as you finished shooting. There's no way they made it out that fast, at least, not in daylight in public. They didn't come back out the front. He wouldn't risk exposure now, would he?"
A shrill cry from the inside of the funhouse interrupted their conversation.
Shit.
Wes and April ran in against the flow of frantic people and towards the scream. They were in the hall of mirrors when they came across a blonde teen, her chest a bloody mess with her heart ripped out. There was blood everywhere, floor to ceiling, splatter patterns across several of the full-length mirrors; human blood, more than she'd encountered in a long-ass time. April closed her eyes, hoping not seeing it would make it easier—but the aroma was still making her palate salivate. It was so good and so powerful. Her canines pressed against her, drawing blood against her lower lip. A growl came from her down low.
"Call the police," Wes yelled to the crowd, as he dragged April back out the exit. He held her against the wall of the exterior. His firm hands on her shoulders, he compelled her to focus on his voice. "Easy. Just breathe, honey. We're outside now, so it should be better. Look at me. Are you okay?"
Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes and met his, and she nodded.
"And that, my dear April, right there, is why we always hunt with a partner." He leaned his forehead against hers.
"Thank you," she sighed, patting his strong arm.
"You don't need to thank me for that. Are you sure you're good?"
"Yeah. Let's go. We can't stick around here anyway. They're just going to take the body, and you saw that with that hole in her chest–"
"Yeah, the heart's gone," Wes agreed. "I mean, we know who did it at least, thanks to your bro. We just have to catch them—and we have no idea where he went."
Miles' redheaded partner, his girlfriend Vera, was thankfully an Instagram attention whore. Not long after the couple left the fair, they had gone back to Vera's house. She was posting photos on her wooden front porch with Miles, duck facing with potted flowers. #Summer4Eva. Ugh. Luckily, though, it gave them a house number. It only took a little more sleuthing using the internet and a few more hours, taking them straight from the afternoon through dusk.
Wes used her phone as she drove, looking up all the local addresses that had that number. It was a little harder to read the digits in the dark, but at the last house, they found it 7336 Andrews St. The porch light verified the numbers next to the typical Midwestern front door.
"Yep, that's it," April said, comparing the photo to the house itself.
"You think he's still there?"
"Um...high schoolboy with his girlfriend the night before he goes off to college and no parent's car in sight? Uh yeah. They're probably bangin' it out as we speak. Good for her, and good for us; that might give us the element of surprise. Probably should go save Miss Summer4Eva before her boyfriend uses her for a chew toy, though."
She pulled her red Mustang around to the end of the alley behind the house.
"You don't sound too thrilled by that," Wes chuckled. They both got out of the car and headed to the back.
"Honestly? Sometimes you think, are some of these people worth the ass whooping or broken bones," she wisecracked, opening up the Mustang's trunk. She opened her duffle and took out her machete, setting it aside as she loaded up her Colt revolver with silver bullets. With the gun cocked, she turned towardsWes. "You stay here."
He grabbed her hard on the arm. "I'm sorry, what? You must be insane if you think I'm going to—"
"You agreed to my rules, remember? My case, my call? You stay here. I've got this. Just make sure Teen Wolf doesn't get out. Here, take the silver knife. There's a gun in the glove and extra silver ammo in the trunk. I'm just going to check it out. I promise," she kissed him on the nose as she used a hair tie to put her hair up into a ponytail. Wouldn't want long hair to get in the way of a shot.
He groaned angrily but relented. "If you're not out in five, I'm coming in whether you like it or not."
She tossed her machete over the back fence, tucked her gun in the back of her jeans, and hopped the 6ft wooden panel. With her blade in hand and back against the detached garage in the shadows, she lurked. There were lights on upstairs, none on the first floor. It was a typical July weekend, and it was sweltering. Bad news since that meant A/C units were on, and windows were closed. Crap. She was going to have to pick a lock. Luckily she was the daughter of the most excellent lock picker she knew, she thought to herself.
April blurred over to the back door, grabbing her lock pick kit from her back pocket. It was an old worn door at least a hundred years old. Easily pickable. Bad news, they made an audible click when unlocked, and the doors usually squeaked like high hell. She grimaced and pushed the door open slowly. Creak. Fuck.
She paused, waiting for a minute.
No sound.
Phew.
She got up and quickly made her way through the dark main floor, keeping herself against the wall in the shadows. There were creaking and pacing coming from upstairs. She could hear two people talking: a boy and a girl. Must be Miles and Vera.
Seeing that the coast was clear, she zoomed up the stairs, her feet just a whisper over the wood floor, and tucked into a dark bedroom.
"Vera, I've gotta go," Miles said, a note of panic in his voice. He was in the bedroom next to her. Too bad April couldn't just shoot him through the wall. After all, the killing today made six girls killed in the town in two weeks.
"Fine, I'll go pack you something to take with you to school, sweetie. Then we can leave. Be right back,"
April quickly slid under a bed and watched as Vera's flip-flopped feet passed by the threshold, the sounds of it going down one stair and then another.
That was April's chance. She blurred over to the next bedroom, her machete in one hand, gun in the other.
"Don't move," April warned.
"Jesus, okay," Miles stuttered, his eyes dilating while he put his hands up. He only had his boxers on because, of course, he did. There were clothes tossed in the corner, covered in blood. "I'll do whatever you want. What do you want? Money? I've got nothing. I'm a college student."
"We've got a bit of a problem, Miles. See, I saw you today at the fair. And we can't let you do that to the girls all over town."
He was only eighteen, the same age she was. Practically a kid. It looked like they might have even seen each other once before, maybe at one of Dylan's track meets during the 'normal days.' His blue eyes were wide with surprise, his short blonde hair drenched in sweat. He was fucking terrified.
"Please don't hurt me," he begged.
"Like you hurt that girl? Or any of the other girls?"
"I didn't mean to," he admitted.
"Mean to or not, you did."
"No, no, I didn't want to, she made me!"
She? A gun cock behind her. Of fucking course.
"You hunters and your monologues," Vera spoke from behind. "It would have been a lot easier just to have blown his head off, now wouldn't it?"
"Is there a gun in my back, or are you just happy to see me," April snarked, the gun now firmly against her spine.
Shit.
"Hunters," Miles asked Vera, his eyes wide with fear and questions.
"Sorry, sweetie didn't get the time to explain that bit. Some people want to kill our kind. Humans who won't let us live—who don't like how we survive. Now, drop the gun."
April swore and sighed, letting it drop from her fingers the floor with a thud.
"And the blade."
The metal clanged to the floor.
"I've heard of plenty of wolves that don't need to kill to eat," April went on, gearing her response to the cowering boy.
"You can? You don't have to kill," Miles asked, interest written over his face.
"No," April added. It was clear what had happened now. Vera was a werewolf, and Miles, a definite newbie, was her mate. Vera must have chosen and bit him, creating him. With the full moon that week, he would need to feed. Thus, the hearts. "No, you don't. You can get hearts other ways."
"But you can't fight who you are," Vera directed to Miles in a rebuttal as she shoved the gun into April. "What I saw you do today, that was all you, baby. I didn't make you kill her. I told you to; you did because you wanted to. The rest was all you. It's instinct. It's who you are now."
"But I don't want to," Miles wailed. "I don't want to have to eat freakin' hearts for the rest of my life! I was fine until I told you I wanted a break. Then this bitch attacked me," he told April. Ah, so Vera is a little co-dependent.
"And now you need me, big boy," Vera snarked. The gun pressed farther into April's back, the dig in her bone now starting to hurt. April wondered who was faster, a vamp or a wolf. None of the journals she studied had come across that little tidbit—no time like the present to find out.
April blurred around, knocking the gun upwards with her forearm before sweeping her leg and kicking the knee out from under Vera. Vera winced in pain as her leg twisted at a grisly angle before she rebounded, throwing her shoulder into April. April flew hard against the wall, the plaster cracking and falling from the impact.
Ignoring the throbbing pain shooting down her spine, April ricocheted off the wall, rolling on the floor to grab her gun. She turned to point the gun at Vera, but the were-girl was quick and jumped on her, pinning April to the floor. The wood creaked and groaned as Vera had her by the throat and pressed her down, firmly pinning April's arms down with her knees. The gun slid across the room. April hissed up at Vera, her fangs out as she struggled against her assailant's grasp.
"Check this out, Miles. This hunter isn't even human. She's a vamp," Vera chortled.
"A Vamp?"
"Yeah, a fucking vampire. Oh, yeah, those exist too, but as hunters...well, that's new to me," she leered down at April. "They're monsters too, Miles. This is a hunter hunting her kind. You must truly hate yourself."
"I hunt for things that hurt people. I don't hurt people," April gasped, tilting her head towards Miles, as she fought the hands on her throat. "That's how I know it's possible because I've done it. You can survive without—" Her voice cut off by the cruel grasp of the red-haired girl's claws, her eyes now bright yellow through her tight wavy locks.
"Be a doll and bring me that machete, Miles," Vera addressed her mate, before turning her attention back to April. "You hunters are usually so fucking smug and self-righteous. But you, you? A vampire who thinks you are any better? You're not. You can lie and eat bunnies all you want, but one day, that sweet smell is going to hit you like an 18-wheeler, and you're going to Drac out, and you're going to kill someone. Maybe not today or tomorrow, or a year from now, but you will. That's inevitable. And then you know what, some hunter is going to come after you and maybe your mate. Then what? Was it fucking worth it?"
April's vision was getting spotty, her ears beginning to ring as she gasped for air. She frantically felt around with her free hand, the one not trying to pry the wolf's paw off her throat, to find a makeshift weapon. Anything. Blindly, her fingers found the leg of an end table next to the bed. That'll do. With a growl, she grabbed the whole thing, lifting the table and bashing Vera over the head.
The werewolf released her grip as the wood splintered over the floor. April gasped, scrambling to get a deep breath, crawling to reach her gun several feet away. It was too late. A bloodied Vera was already up on her feet, machete in hand. There wasn't enough time for April to reach her gun, not before Vera could swing the knife.
Well, what did she expect? She was the one that stupidly told Wes to wait when he didn't want to. April closed her eyes, waiting for the final blow.
But it didn't happen.
A feminine scream snapped her eyes open. Vera went flying backward, her grip loosened off the machete in her surprise. April reached across the floor and grabbed it. A hand took it from her and…
Swoosh. Squish.
Vera's head rolled across the room, her body crumpled in a heap as blood seeped from the wound where her head used to attach. April looked up to see Wes standing there with a machete in hand.
"You okay," he asked, stepping over the body, offering her a hand. Pulling April to her feet, his arm wound around her, pulling her tight to his chest. He pulled back, swearing as he assessed the damage to her body. "I shouldn't have let you do this alone. You don't have to prove— "
"I'm fine," she assured with a cough. Wes gently cradled her chin, tilting it up as his attentive eyes examined her throat. A deep growl rose from within him when he noticed the harsh fingerprints on her throat.
"And what about this one," Wes asked with a growl, pointing the machete at the sobbing mess of a teen boy on the ground.
"No, no. Miles doesn't want to kill anyone," April said, stepping in between the two with her hands raised.
"No, I don't…," Miles started. "But I will. Vera was right about that."
What? Wes grabbed onto April and pushed her behind him. Her eyes widened, and her stomach sank. Miles had April's gun in his hand. He pulled back on the hammer. Wes was about to go ballistic on the boy, thinking that he was going to shoot April, but she knew better…
Her hand tightened on Wes's bicep, holding him back.
"Easy," April said as soothingly as possible. "Easy, Miles. Vera was right. Yeah, I'm a vampire, and I don't kill people. I get blood from animals or the blood bank. You could do that too, for hearts? For food? You could go that route. It's doable. You can live like that, and the hunters will leave you alone."
There was a clear battle of his internal thoughts, his hands methodically playing with the gun. She wanted to rush forward and grab it from his hands, but there was no way Wes wouldn't stop her.
"But she's right, that's instinct. I didn't know what to eat or how to kill, but I figured it out real quick," Miles cried, putting the gun to his head with a shaky hand.
April's heart stopped. She'd never experienced this before. There was no reason for that to happen.
"Miles, please. Look at me," April pleaded, getting closer until Wes had an arm around her. "You don't have to do this. We're the same age, do you know that? 18, right? Aren't you going off to college? You still can. We're alike, you know. If I can do it, so can you. You'll just have to make some adjustments—"
Miles shook his head back and forth.
"There aren't any adjustments for what we are," he screamed. "We're monsters." He put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.
"NO!" The arm around her tightened as her body jolted with the loud blare of the gunshot.
Miles slumped to the ground, the blood seeping from the hole in his head. Dead.