Chapter 23: Hot Sauce and Boring Vanilla Ice Cream

I had no intention of making this chapter so long. It just kind of happened.

Anyway, this chapter is filler, but it follows up on one of Paradox's warnings. You have to read to find out which one. Its also got some romance in it-I know some of you have been waiting for that. To be honest, I don't know much about teen relationships besides what I've seen and read, so I hope I did okay.

Sam woke up the next morning feeling great. She found it surprising how Kevin reacted when seeing her house.

"You're not surprised?" Sam asked. Kevin had just driven her home after the battle with Manny and Helen, even though she said that she would be fine.

"The guy has to drive the girl home. It's a rule," Kevin had said, smiling adorably.

"How chivalrous of you."

"I try." And with that, Kevin drove her home. He didn't seem surprised when she directed him to Sterling Hills-Carter or Evan must have told him- but he did think it strange to see a Japanese-styled house in America.

"Did your family build it like this or what?" Kevin asked her as he parked the car in the stupidly long driveway.

"No, the DuBaer family bought from this Japanese physicist a long time ago," Sam explained. "He built it like this to remind him of home, and since it looked so cool, my family never bothered to change the outside."

The two of them got out of the Dodge Challenger and stood in the dark, staring at the driveway lights as the shadows leered at them. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door," Kevin said, slowly leading out of the driveway.

Sam followed with an amused look on her face. "I didn't think guys did that anymore. Usually they just watch from the car as their dates entered the house."

"Yeah, well, if you haven't noticed, I'm kind of old fashioned." They cut across the well-kept lawn to the front door, shortening the distance. The gigantic front door loomed at them as the young couple stood in front awkwardly.

"I'll call you tomorrow?" Kevin said, trying to fill the silence.

Sam gave a coy little smile."I'd like that." She opened the door and walked inside. Kevin waved goodbye as she gently closed the door shut. It took him a moment to pry himself away from the door, since he was kind of regretting not kissing Sam while he had the chance. Then again, they had just recently started dating-they shouldn't take things too fast, at least in Kevin's opinion.

Sam was a little disappointed when Kevin didn't do something on the porch last night-couldn't he had at least hugged her? But she could wait; if Sam was right, then she would have to until Kevin took the initiative. Hopefully he would do it before Sam got impatient.

Sam got up from bed and nearly tripped over a pile of clothes. Unlike Evan and Carter's rooms, Sam's room was a disaster zone. Her bed was usually unmade, her desk was a mess, and piles of clothes usually littered the floor. A little Japanese table was under the windows, posing as a vanity table for all of Sam's cosmetics. Though the tubes of lipstick and mascara usually fell off and contributed to the collection on the floor. Her closet was no better either; it supplied both clothes and a dresser, but everything was in no particular order-not by season, not by color, not even by garment.

Sam's room was chaotic, just the way she liked it.

Sam quickly dressed and went into the bathroom to brush her hair and teeth. She had to hurry; there was no way she was letting Charlie sleep away a three-day weekend like this.

Sam briskly walked across the hall from the bathroom and banged on Charlie's door. "Wake up, I'm getting breakfast ready!" she yelled through the door. She could hear the signs of a creaking bed and a human groan. Charlie never was a morning person, but he usually listened to Sam.

Sam walked through the house, a masterpiece of warm autumn colors, full of browns and reds and oranges. The house was brightly lit, and on the hallway walls were pictures of family gatherings-summer barbeques, spring picnics, and winter parties. Due to their families being so close, Carter and Evan and their families were often in the pictures as well.

There were hardly any pictures of Sam's parents in them.

Sam walked into the state-of-the-art kitchen, which had a red refrigerator, a silver oven, a black microwave, and clean granite counter tops with a kitchen island for eating. Sam got out some eggs, turkey bacon, and bread and started to make breakfast.

As the bread cooked in the toaster and as Sam started on the eggs, she thought about how weird it would be if some of her old classmates saw her. The definition for psychotic was: a personality disorder characterized with shallow emotions, lacking empathy, cold-heartedness, being manipulative, irresponsibility, and anti-social behaviors. They would obviously think that Sam couldn't possibly care for anything, that she couldn't possibly take care of herself or her family. Of course, Sam probably knew on a subconscious level that she wasn't psychotic-she had been tested numerous times- but people like the bullies from Sam's childhood would never listen.

Besides, someone had to fill the parental role in Charlie's life. Ever since Todd died, the parents had been distant. Sure, they often kept in touch to check up on their remaining kids, but they were never really around due to work and other issues. What those issues were, Sam didn't want to know.

Unfortunately, when they finally had time to spend with their kids, Alexander and Irene DuBaer had a rather odd view on how to spend it. Whenever they came home, they usually went to the country club to schmooze with the other rich parents, leaving the kids alone. And ever since Sam was thirteen, her mother forced her to go on dates with the sons of wealthy mothers so the companies could be on friendly terms.

Sam had thought it would be okay, but sweet Kirche, were those boys egotistical bastards! Seriously, they didn't give a damn about the world economy or how politics played out; all they wanted to know was whether Sam liked their new Ferrari and when the next party was on their parents' yacht. Oh, sure, they flattered Sam with compliments and showered her with expensive gifts, but they treated her like a trophy they had just won: good to show off to friends and to cast aside later. At least when Sam voiced her displeasure over dating those creeps, her mother listened and gently broke it to the parents. And if the boys continued to bother her, Sam's dad scared them off.

The food's burning, Kirche drawled in Sam's head. Sam sniffed the air to see that the goddess was right. She had been so preoccupied that she nearly destroyed breakfast. Whatever; Charlie would eat anything.

Charlie walked into the room just as Sam turned off the stove. Charlie looked a lot like Todd at thirteen: messy, short, fiery red hair like their sister's, copper brown eyes flecked with green, pale skin with freckles, and a lean, almost stick like body like their father's. Only difference was their personality. While Todd had been calm and mature, Charlie was in the throes of adolescence, one minute immature, the next trying to act like an adult to impress people.

"Is something burning?" Charlie asked as he grabbed a plate from the cabinet.

"No," Sam answered curtly, even though he knew she was lying. Charlie yawned and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes with his red sleeve. Charlie was dressed like a skater Goth: black ACDC band t-shirt over a long-sleeved red shirt, baggy black pants with black basketball shoes, and a black beanie covering his flaming hair.

"Do you know when the 'rents are coming back?" Charlie asked before shoveling food into his mouth.

"Don't put so much food into your mouth at once, you'll choke," Sam chided him. He stuck his egg-covered tongue at her. "And I think we'll Skype tomorrow."

While it was no lie that Alexander and Irene were rarely home, it didn't stop them from wanting to know every little detail that happened in their children's lives. They sent there support from overseas, and almost always made it to birthdays, holidays, and other special events.

And for Sam and Charlie, that was good enough.

That same morning...

Ben woke up again in the healing pod in the Carmichael manor, feeling like a million bucks. For the past few weeks he had been training secretly with Phineas in the time pocket, and now Ben could produce lightning the size of a tennis ball in his hands without passing out. He could only do that for a few minutes though. Thanks to the Omnitrix blocking Ben's natural powers, he couldn't really summon any impressive feats of power without seriously draining his energy. He would have to work on that.

After Ben got out of the healing pod and put on clean clothes, he met Carter outside the metal door so they could go the temple that Ben couldn't get into. After he started his training with Phineas, he had technically been allowed to enter Ventus's temple, but Ben had been so busy with school and alien attacks and soccer that it slipped his mind.

And now Carter was leading him to the great blue building with the domed skylight for a roof and lightning bolt-shaped rods surrounding the building, giving off multicolored light. Ben was almost shaking in anticipation. He expected the invisible force field to stop him, but he walked up to the front steps with Carter easily.

"Well?" Carter gestured to the door. Ben took a deep breath and pushed open the great oak doors, listening to the hinges creak slightly as they revealed the inside.

It was breathtaking: murals of Ventus and his many great adventures covered the walls, and a single white throne with lightning bolts painted on the sides stood at the back on a stage. Tables full of offerings were pushed to the side, and the skylight lit up the place, making it even more impressive.

Carter walked up to the throne and kneeled before it, putting her hands together in prayer. Ben didn't know what to do except copy her movements. He tried to pray, but he didn't know what they words were.

Carter stood up after a minute. "Do you feel it?"

Ben also stood up. "Feel what?"

"The power. Do you feel the energy this place is giving you?"

Now that she mentioned it, Ben did feel more charged ever since he walked into the temple. It was like this building was giving him an energy boost, like he could take on an army.

"Do you feel it?" Ben asked Carter.

She shook her head. "Not in here. I only feel the power boost in my own temple." She thought for a moment. "I wonder if Ventus's followers feel it too."

Ben blinked. "Followers?"

"No one told you?" Carter answered her own question. "There are only roughly a hundred Slayer gods and, like, thousands of Slayers, so naturally most of them won't have a god in their head. But some people, like Sam's little brother, could have some sort of power thanks to genetics. The gods give them power because they were born in that family. And some families are tied to certain gods, and they're the ones who take care of the temples and pray to that god specifically."

"Huh. I never thought of that," Ben admitted. Struck with a sudden idea, he went in the middle of the room. "Let's see what I can do in here."

"Ben, that's dangerous," Carter warned him.

"But you can protect yourself, can't you?"

"Yeah, but I'd rather not use my powers."

"Then just stay off to the side." Ben pointed to the offering tables. "If it gets out of hand, you could use the tables as a shield. I'm sure Ventus wouldn't mind."

Actually, I kind of would,Ventus grumbled in Ben's head. The teen shushed him as Carter went over to the left, behind the tables.

Ben breathed in deeply and spread out his legs slightly in a stance. He put his arms out and imagined a tennis ball-sized ball of lightning to appear in both of his palms. A crackle of electricity sounded, and Ben put the two balls together, squishing them into one.

And then he aimed and threw the ball lightning at the glass roof, waiting until it just almost hit the glass before forcing the ball to break into lightning shards and making it rain harmlessly around the room.

Carter was clapping her hands, impressed with the display. She didn't notice the bowl of blessed water next to her when a shard of lightning hit the water. Using the water as a conductor, it bounced off and hit Carter, who didn't see it coming.

Carter yelled in shock and fell to the ground, her body contorting from the spasms. Ben was instantly at her side, watching as she first jerked her limbs around and then just go still, eyes open and dilating, her breathing drawn out and wheezy.

"What do I do?" Ben muttered to himself as panic began to take over his mind. His thoughts were starting to become short and rapid, sweat pouring off him as he raked his hands through his hair in a desperate attempt to help himself think.

Calm down! Ventus barked at him. Unlike most people, her heart destroys itself when struck by electricity. We don't have time to get medical help. Just do as I say and she'll live.

What do I do?

Put your hands on her and suck out the extra lightning out of her.

Ben put shaking hands on Carter's arm and imagined the lightning jumping out of her and into him. He could instantly feel the electricity rush through him, warming him and making his hands stop shaking.

Stop, or you'll kill her! Ventus snapped at Ben. Ben forced his hands off of Carter and waited for the next instruction.

Her nervous system's out of whack, so put your hands on her chest and act like a defibrillator.

Ben put his hands on Carter's sternum and pumped electricity back into her. She lay still after the first shot of electricity, but after the second her eyes began to flutter and she groaned.

Okay, now stop and give her some water, Ventus ordered him. She needs to replenish her energy.

Ben stood up and looked around for a water source. He saw a golden bowl filled with water and grabbed that. He then knelt down and hoisted Carter up into the sitting position and but the bowl to her lips. She opened them slightly and she drank greedily.

After she was done, she looked at Ben. "You so owe me."

Relieved beyond belief, Ben dropped the bowl and hugged Carter until she was gasping for breath. "Dude, let go."

"I thought I lost you," he murmured. "I should have listened to you."

"It's not totally your fault," Carter said weakly. "I should have been more careful. I usually don't get electrocuted unless I'm using my powers."

Ben pulled Carter in close and put his face in her hair. "I'm such an idiot," he muttered.

"Yes, you are," Carter agreed. "What did I say about PDA?"

As Carter put it, public displays of affection (PDA) were not allowed. Even though they were dating, Carter didn't want to flaunt to people that they were. That meant no hand holding, no long hugs, no kissing, no walking to class, nothing. She had said that seeing high school couples do that everywhere was awkward and tacky, so she didn't want to fool around and act lovestruck until they were alone. Ben was mostly okay with that. Mostly.

Apologizing, Ben helped Carter to her feet. She tried to stand on her own, only to nearly crumple to the ground. "I need some time in the healing pod," she declared as Ben put an arm around her waist. "I already know how you'll make up for this."

"How?" Ben wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"We're going to see Autopsy today."

"You mean that scary movie with the college kids and the crazy scientist?"

"That's the one."

Ben was so relieved he almost crumpled to the floor himself. He could imagine all of the other things Carter could have done to him, like kill him, or worse, tell his parents. If she wanted to see a movie, Carter would see a movie. Besides, Ben liked scary movies. It couldn't be that bad, right?

…It was really that bad.

The first thing Ben noticed was the lack of CGI effects. It gave the film a sort of nineties feel. The movie reminded Ben of an old slasher flick with lots of blood and gore, and the soundtrack gave him chills. So why didn't Carter get scared during the whole movie?

Whenever Ben jumped in his seat, Carter giggled. It didn't sound weird, because they were the only two people in the theatre (it was early in the morning, after all). It would have looked strange for the guy to get scared, so Ben was very thankful that there was no one else to see his plight.

Wait a minute-did Carter set this up? Ben took a glance over at his date and saw that she was totally engrossed with the film. Her eyes seemed to shine whenever the music became exceptionally creepy, and she didn't look away whenever the movie showed the experiments. It didn't seem like Carter was trying to embarrass him.

Well, it was time to turn the tables a bit. Ben slowly lifted his arm and lightly draped it over Carter's shoulders, wanting to see if the mysterious touch would make her jump. Without taking her eyes off the screen, Carter pulled down Ben's arm so that it gripped her shoulder, and then she put her head on his shoulder.

Ben was having difficulty breathing as he smelled the minty scent of Carter's perfume mixed with the herbal liquid from the healing pod. And then Carter said in a monotone, "Oh, no, don't go in there." Ben turned back to the movie and noticed one of the hapless kids getting experimented on. "I liked her. Oh well." And then Carter took a sip of her soda and nestled closer to Ben, like they were seeing a romantic movie instead of a horror flick.

As the victim screamed out her last breath, Ben jumped in his seat yet again and grabbed hold of Carter as if for dear life. Ben almost immediately let go and was humiliated to see the devilish smirk splayed over Carter's face. Lifting a hand, she turned Ben's face towards the front and leaned over. Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, "You are absolutely adorable."

Ben didn't know how he felt about that.

It was noon when Ben and Carter exited the theater. And of course, they had to see Sam and Kevin walk up to it.

"What movie did you guys see?" Sam asked immediately, stopping in front of the two of them. Kevin stood next to her, hands jammed into his pockets and looking casual.

"We saw Autopsy," Carter said happily, an almost dream-like expression on her face.

"I take it you liked it," Sam said, stating the obvious.

"The soundtrack was amazing."

"On a scale of one to ten, how bloody was it?"

"About a nine, maybe nine-and-a-half."

"Sweet." As the girls conversed more about the movie, Ben directed Kevin out of earshot.

"Did you know Carter doesn't get scared at horror movies?"

Kevin shook his head. "No; is that a problem?"

"Well no, but… You know how the girl is supposed to hang onto their date whenever something scary happens? And how the guy tells her 'It's only a movie,' and comforts her and stuff?"

Kevin caught on and started to laugh in Ben's face. "Dude-"

"Will you stop?" Ben pleaded. "I just made a complete fool of myself!"

"Obviously." Kevin looked back at the girls, who were laughing about something. "I really don't think it's that big of a deal."

"You don't?" Ben raised an eyebrow.

"Believe me I know what you're talking about. But I think switching roles sometimes isn't a totally awful thing. Besides, it's a little old-fashioned to think the guy has to constantly save the girl. Carter doesn't strike me as the type who would want to be a damsel-in-distress."

Ben had to hand it to Kevin. Sometimes he gave really good advice. "Thanks Kev. So how are things with you and Sam?"

A gentle look came over Kevin's face. "Pretty good. We're going to see Autopsy. Is it really that scary, Benji?" The gentle look was replaced by a cocky grin as Kevin lightly punched Ben's arm.

"The soundtrack alone is creepy." Ben gave an involuntary shudder.

Over on the girls' side, Sam was asking about Ben. "So, did you jump into his lap when you had the chance?" She wiggled her eyebrows as Carter lightly pushed her.

"We're not at that stage in our relationship yet. I don't want to come on too strong."

"Not yet, anyway. But what happened?"

"Well, I was calmly watching it while Ben squeaked and jumped in his seat whenever something scary happened."

Sam snickered and kept her voice low. "You're kidding."

Carter shook her head. "I kid you not. He tried to make up for it by doing something corny-you know, put his arm on my shoulders. But he was too slow so had to literally pull his arm around me."

Sam gave a low whistle. "You're getting kind of aggressive."

"Is that bad?"

"No, but like you said, you're not at that stage in your relationship yet. Take it kind of slow and go from there." Sam studied Carter's face. "Are you blushing?"

"What?" Carter felt her cheeks to see that they were indeed abnormally warm. She swore. "This happens every time after I try taking the initiative with Ben. What is wrong with me?"

Sam thought it over. Carter never got embarrassed like this whenever she got even remotely aggressive with her other boyfriends. "I think Ben's special. He's always been special to you."

"What are you implying?"

"That you're secretly afraid to try anything with Ben because he's important to you. You don't want to ruin what you have right now with him, so when you try to do something somewhat aggressive, you get embarrassed. Or maybe it's because out of all the boyfriends you've had, Ben's the only one to respond positively to your advances. You're not used to that, so you go red."

"I guess…" Carter still looked confused, so Sam decided to change the subject.

"So, did Ben ever scream?"

"Hey, Gwen, what are your plans for today?" Evan asked over the phone. Gwen was having lunch with her mother in their home, since Lilly worked from there. Gwen excused herself from the table and went into the hallway so she wouldn't be overheard.

"What are you planning, Evan?"

"I want you to meet a friend of mine. His family owns an art studio in Bellwood and I thought it might be a good way to spend the day."

"…Why me?"

"Because DJ needs a model and I couldn't think of anyone else who could do it."

"I don't know…"

"He'll just paint you as you are. He doesn't do nudes," Evan reassured her. "Besides, DJ is a really cool guy. He wouldn't make you do anything you weren't comfortable with."

Gwen would have been more suspicious, but she had a few questions concerning that strange emperor guy from last night. Besides, she could handle herself. "Where's the studio?"

Gwen was mortified to be picked up in a Hummer limo. "Why are you picking me up in this?" Gwen asked, blushing furiously. She quickly shut the door so no would see her get in.

"I didn't have any other form of transportation," Evan said from across Gwen, sitting casually as he idly flipped through a magazine.

As the limo started to move out of the neighborhood, Gwen asked, "What are you, rich or something?"

Evan looked at Gwen surprised. "No one told you?"

That made Gwen's eyes grow huge. "Evan…who are you?"

"Evan Force, heir to Force Industries."

Gwen put a finger to her temple like she was trying to stop her brain from short-circuiting. "Let me get this straight. You're a Slayer, you're family is loaded, and yet you have a job." Gwen peeked over at Evan, who was back to idly flipping through his science magazine.

"So what if my family's rich? I can still have a job. And besides, you're either born a Slayer or you're not; there's no way for people to register or sign up to join us."

Gwen bit her lip as she processed this new information. "So, that means you're a born killer."

"Your point being…?"

Gwen chose to ignore that. "So, are all Slayers rich?"

Evan took a moment to think about that. "Not really. Most are middle-class. The assassination jobs don't pay well if you want to start a family or a business or something like that. It's like a second job for adults and a part-time gig for teenagers."

"You talk about this so normally."

"Well, isn't it?" Evan put the magazine aside. "If a child wants to become a police officer, that means he has to learn to kill people. It's just like us, only they usually follow the law."

"When do Slayers even start assassinating people?" Gwen didn't know if she wanted to hear this answer.

"Around eight or so."

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Gwen screeched. She would have jumped out of her seat if the car wasn't moving so quickly. "Why the hell would you make little kids kill people?"

"The earlier they get used to it, the easier it is when they're older."

"But can't you see how traumatic it can be for them? For God's sake, they're children. They barely know right and wrong as it is; they shouldn't be corrupted by something like this." Gwen stared at Evan in disbelief, body limp yet tense.

Evan took in her reaction calmly, a sad smile overtaking his face. "Believe me, Gwen, I know," he said softly, his eyes full of hurt.

And the full realization hit Gwen like a hammer. "Oh, God…" She stared at Evan, putting a hand to mouth in horror. She could just imagine Evan at eight years old, aiming a gun at someone and pulling the trigger, the blood and brains everywhere as he tried to comprehend what he just did.

Evan gave a low chuckle from deep in his throat. "You'd be surprised how well kids understand right and wrong. They know stealing is wrong, they know lying is wrong, and they know hurting anything is wrong. And yet some do it anyway. Sometimes it's because they think its fun; maybe it's because they want to get back at someone. The situation doesn't matter. Kids can sometimes see things better than adults can. Adults lie and steal and sometimes kill-they know it's wrong and they do it anyway. With kids, if they think it's wrong, they usually don't do it because they don't want to disappoint their parents or their teacher. Adults just don't care.

"When I first killed someone back when I was eight, I was traumatized. I'm not going to sugar coat it for you. I had nightmares about it for weeks. I couldn't sleep and I could barely eat. I had killed a man when I had always been told that killing was wrong. I knew what I did was wrong and yet I did it anyway, because it was my job. I did what policemen do whenever they see something horrible at a murder scene: I moved on from it. I never forget it, but I learned from it and got stronger. I would have gone mad if I didn't."

Gwen swallowed the bile that was rising in her throat. She had not once considered the psychological damage caused to her friends when they went out and did their "jobs". And here was Evan, who normally took her complaints and rants easily, and who had just spilled his heart out to her and revealed the horrible experience he went through even though he had been bred since he was little to kill people.

Gwen felt like such an awful person.

Gwen swallowed again, her face a ghastly shade of white. "Do you ever have trouble sleeping now?"

"Sometimes I have nightmares. They don't happen often, but when they do, it's horrible." Evan suddenly smiled a giant grin that wiped all traces of grief and anguish from his face. "But the money helps."

It was such a bad joke to make at a time like this, but Gwen was so desperate to diffuse this horrible tension that she laughed harder than necessary. Evan laughed too, joining her as they howled hysterically at something that wasn't even that funny.

The art studio was a beautiful modern building in the middle of Bellwood, with large windows and a well-kept lawn. "Your friend owns this?" Gwen asked in awe.

"His family does," Evan explained. "It's an art studio slash recording studio slash house." Evan walked up to the building with Gwen in tow.

Evan pressed the doorbell and waited for someone to show up. After a minute, the oak door opened to reveal a little African American girl with short black hair and big brown eyes, in a cute pink dress.

"Hey, Britt-nay!" Evan trilled, waving his fingers with a silly grin on his face.

The girl beamed a smile back. "Hey, Ev-ay!"

"Where's your brother?"

"In the art studio; come on in." Brittany led the two into the large, expensive-looking home, with long, white halls with family photos and framed pictures of employees who started their careers here.

The art studio was large with white walls and a huge window overlooking the colorful back garden. There were canvases everywhere: some on easels, some leaning against the wall, some finished, some a blank sheet. A wooden cabinet lay off to the side, possibly for art supplies.

Right in the middle of the studio was a boy with cinnamon colored skin like Brittany's, with his hair in dreadlocks, with a thoughtful expression on his face as he stared at a blank canvas. He was wearing a simple black tee-shirt with a blue flannel shirt opened up to reveal it, with paint splattered jeans and blue tennis shoes.

"Hey, Dee-jay!" Evan trilled arms outstretched in a hug. The boy lost his determined look and broke out a smile.

"Hey, Ev-ay!" he replied, getting up out of his seat and walking up to Evan. As the two boys bro-hugged, Gwen stood to the side awkwardly as twelve-year-old Brittany left the room.

"DJ, meet Gwen," Evan introduced her as they broke contact. DJ studied Gwen, walking around her in a circle, getting her every angle. Gwen just stood there awkwardly as she waited for him to finish.

"I would be honored to have you as a model," DJ said finally, stretching out a hand. Gwen shook it, noting how callused it was from all that painting.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked. DJ gestured to the middle, where a little wooden stool was. Gwen sat in it as DJ went towards his canvas.

"Where'd you find her, Evan?" DJ asked conversationally as he readied his supplies.

"Cordelia sent me to her," Evan answered casually. DJ stopped what he was doing and turned to Evan, who was leaning against the wall like he had nothing better to do.

"You're kidding."

"Afraid not, good buddy."

"Excuse me," Gwen suddenly said, making both boys look at her. "Exactly who is this Cordelia person?"

"Cordelia Valentine, part owner of Valentine Hospitals," DJ explained. "She's also the head coordinator for Slayer missions."

"So you're a Slayer?"

"Didn't Evan tell you?"

"No." Gwen shook her head. "He just told me that you needed a model, and I had nothing better to do…"

DJ smiled as he dipped a paintbrush into red paint. "You're very trusting."

"Evan's never steered me wrong before."

"You'll find that most Slayers are trustworthy," DJ said. "We may not be the best of people, but we rarely go back on our word."

"Good to know." A minute passed as DJ began to paint Gwen with Evan listening to heavy metal on his iPod in the back. Something was bothering Gwen, and she decided that now would be the best time to ask it. "Are you really born a Slayer?"

"Well, yes," DJ said truthfully. "All children born into Slayer families are bred in martial arts from a very young age. Even if we don't go on missions, we can still defend ourselves."

"Have you ever gone on a mission?" Gwen was getting bored just sitting in this chair.

"Yes, but I didn't like it, so after a bit I quit," said DJ, who was still painting Gwen even though they were conversing.

"You can quit?"

"Not all Slayers are meant for slaying, Gwen," DJ chided her, never taking his eyes off his creation.

The news unsettled Gwen, who had just learned Evan's experiences after his first job. "Why didn't Evan quit? He told me what it did to him the first time, so why didn't he…?"

DJ actually stopped painting and put down the brush. He stared at Gwen seriously as he said, "Because he's a part of the Pride. For him, quitting is not an option. It never will be."

"But why?"

"Because out of twenty thousand children, he, Carter, and Sam were chosen as the strongest out of them all. Even when they hold back, they're incredibly powerful."

"No way," Gwen muttered in shock.

"Way," said DJ, picking up his paintbrush. "He and the girls have to set an example for all the other teams. They're their leaders, so to speak. If they quit, who knows what the others will do?"

Since that last part was a rhetorical question, Gwen didn't answer it. She stayed like that until mid-afternoon, when DJ finally finished his portrait of her. About time; Gwen's rump was sore and she was getting hungry.

Evan, who had taken out his ear buds, joined Gwen as they looked at DJ's portrait together. The result was breathtaking: there was Gwen, sitting in the middle of the studio, the light in the background shining beside her, almost like a spotlight. The cheery light contrasted nicely with Gwen's black skirt, black tights, black heels, and blue sweater. DJ had posed Gwen with her hands in her lap, her head looking towards the left, a sad, pensive look on her face as if she had just received awful news that she couldn't comprehend. Her emerald green eyes were downcast, strands of her red hair fell around her face, and she was biting her bottom lip.

Had Gwen really looked like that when DJ told her about the Pride?

"Nice work, D," Evan congratulated his friend, clapping his shoulder once. DJ got out a business card out of his jeans and handed it to Gwen.

"If you ever want to model again, just call me," he said. "I'd like to paint you again."

Gwen blushed at the compliment, smiling sheepishly as she did. "Thank you," she said softly.

"I brought ice cream!" Brittany announced, bursting through the doors and brandishing a tray with three blue bowls of vanilla ice cream with spoons. For some odd reason, there was also a small bottle of hot sauce.

"YES!" Evan and DJ cheered, forcing Gwen to take a step back away from them so they couldn't destroy her eardrums with their voices. The two boys immediately grabbed two of the bowls and the bottle of hot sauce and began to top their ice cream with the red liquid.

Gwen grabbed her own bowl and spoon as she stared at the two boys, dumbstruck. "Why?"

"Because it tastes delicious!" Evan exclaimed as Brittany left again, laughing as she did. DJ took pity on Gwen and began to explain.

"Look at what you have Gwen; a bowl of plain vanilla ice cream. It looks nice, right? A creamy, boring white with no strings attached. But that's what you have: boring. Now, you can spice it up with something, like chocolate chips or sprinkles or whatever. That's all fine and dandy, but that's so predictable. What your bowl of vanilla ice cream needs is some pizzazz."

"Some super spicy pizzazz!" Evan proclaimed, holding the bottle of hot sauce in his hands.

"Will you take it, Gwen?" DJ said dramatically as Evan held out the bottle to Gwen. "Will you splash some red hot pizzazz on your boring vanilla ice cream? Or will you be like the rest of the sheep, who only do the predictable and never take a step out of the ordinary?"

"Okay, okay, I'll try it!" Tired of their unnecessarily dramatic speech, Gwen grabbed the hot sauce and poured a tiny amount on her ice cream and spooned it into her mouth.

Gwen's taste buds were assaulted by smooth, sweet creamy vanilla and hot, spicy hot sauce- a combination she were unfamiliar with. It almost made Gwen want to spit it out, but after swallowing the spoonful, she decided that she liked the strange flavor.

"Hand me the bottle."

That last bit with the hot sauce is something my guy friends cooked up last summer. I even put it on boring vanilla ice cream like Evan and DJ did. It's a little weird, but it's not bad.