Disclaimer: I own very little within. I bitch; therefore, I am.

New character in this chapter. I know her power is kind of stupid, and you may find her Sue-ish due to her relationship with The Baron, but don't worry. She probably won't be as much of a main character as she probably should be. But we'll see.

I just keep going and going with the Pete-whomping, don't I?

Oh, and please, don't complain how throwing up is 'gross'. Please. Just don't. You've done it, too. Oh yeah, I just went there.

Pete continued to sit alone in the RV. It was dark out, and he was running out of ways to entertain himself. He started, of course, with throwing a pillow at the door after the others left (they were resourceful and left him there to keep watch over the RV while they didn't waste time by waiting for it to be dark out… HOW DARE THEY BE EFFICIENT). Now he was mindlessly websurfing on Patrick's laptop, perusing sites and updates that he hadn't gotten the chance to lately. But he was all done, he had been on the laptop for hours now! Stupid Patrick and stupid Joe and stupid Andy… they probably got dinner, too… and ice cream… and new clothes… and chicks…

And so Pete sat, alone except for his instant Ramen and mindless webcomic. "Damn it, where are they?! I'm bored as shit!"

"Where are who?" Patrick opened the door to the RV, Joe and Andrew and a lot of plastic bags in tow.

"The people I was chatting with in a forum," Pete turned to the laptop screen. "They all just left."

"That sucks." Joe said, looking out the windshield. "Look, a girl. Must be a gift from the heavens."

"Hey! Move!" Pete walked up to the windshield and waved his hands to the side, trying to signal to the brunette to get out of the way.

She seemed to perk up at the sight of Pete and smiled, making a signal for him to come out.

"Well, how do you like that!" Andrew smiled and elbowed Pete. "She's got a crush on you, dude!"

"Oh, what now?!" Pete kicked opened the door and jumped out. He walked closer to her. "What part of standing in front of a LARGE VEHICLE that WANTS TO GO FORWARD IN THE NEXT MINUTE OR SO seems safe to you, huh? Move!"

She continued to smile. "You're Pete, right?"

"Maybe. Who are you?"

"Oh, good. I was right. Because not only does that answer always mean an obvious 'yes', but it means you're at least slightly intimidated by me somewhere in your subconscious."

"You're weird. Leave me alone and get out from in front of our RV."

"Oh, don't go," She pretended to give him a puppy dog look. "We still need to talk?"

"No, we don't. We have to leave!" Pete turned away from her.

"What's going on?" Joe stepped out as well, Andrew and Patrick following him within a moment.

"This girl is weirding me out," Pete pointed to her accusingly.

"Do you remember The Baron, Pete?" She asked.

He stiffened, then turned back around to look her in the eye. "Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me," She crossed her arms as her tone suddenly became deeper. "You killed him!"

Pete judged from her reaction that she was probably one of the many girls The Baron had 'played with' over the years and used for a regular blood source… she looked angry at him for killing The Baron, so she must be a girl who somehow thought she was more than just blood for him. "I did… why?" It was quite clear that she was on to Pete. He considered playing dumb some more but pissing her off more probably would've been legitimately dumb.

"Were you, like, his girlfriend?" Andrew asked her.

She found this very funny and took a minute to laugh. When she regained herself she looked Andrew in the eye, finally someone other than Pete. "Hardly. I'm his sister."

Andrew made a horrified face. "Ew. I mean, 'Agh'!"

Pete stared back at her, in slight shock. "I, uh, didn't know… he had a sister."

She rolled her eyes. "He trapped me in a coffin for an April Fool's Day prank and buried it. There I was… in the coffin… for ten years."

"How'd you get out?" Pete asked her.

"Well, I was never really THAT good at controlling my powers…" She wiggled her fingertips. "But I had all the time I needed to practice in my coffin until I could get them to do just about anything. And now I hunger for revenge." She smiled at Pete with a menacing yet almost calm look in her eyes; the exact same look that Pete remembered from The Baron's. "And since you're the one who killed him, you'll make the perfect vengeance puppet." She smiled wider and cocked her head to the side. "Because you're just like him… but shorter, with shorter hair."

Pete growled at her, stepping closer. "I AM NOT JUST LIKE HIM. If you're full of a need for revenge for your brother, go cut yourself or something. Leave us alone."

"Oh no, you're not just a substitute for Willy… you killed him. I want revenge on you, too, because it's your fault I couldn't get revenge on him!" The scowl that had been on her face for a moment or so was replaced once again by a smile. "I hope you're more challenging than your friends."

"Our friends?" Patrick asked, confused. "You mean Sorel? Did you take him down for us or something?"

"No, those four charming boys over at the junkyard. Surely you saw my handiwork…" She thought for a moment. "I should have split them into more pieces. Then it would've been more memorable."

"THAT WAS YOU?!" Andrew screamed.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THEM?" Joe added.

"MORE PIECES?!" Pete joined in the yelling. "Tr…Travis was beheaded! And Eric…"

"Hey, the beheaded one was an oopsie!" She protested for her defense. "I didn't mean to squeeze that hard! Oh, wait… did I? Oh, never mind. I think I did. Scratch that. Yeah, that was on purpose. Wasn't one of them not on purpose…?" While she was rambling, Patrick shot a crossbow stake at her, which she simply blocked by a strange, black shield seemingly made out of energy that she formed in front of her. "Wow, that's really rude! Speaking of rude, where ARE my manners?" She extended her hand. "My name's Amy."

"What… what's that?" Patrick pointed to the shield.

"This…" She retracted the shield and shaped into a little ball of energy in her hand. "…Is my power that came from my vampirism. You didn't honestly think Billy Mr. Baron was the only one with special-ness in our family, did you? No way could I let him beat me just because he had that special little burning hands thing. It isn't even really a very good power if you think about it…" She looked to the ground in thought, but then suddenly popped her head back up and pointed to Pete. "He sired you, right?"

"Turned me into a vampire? Yes, he did. Which is partially why I killed him." Pete put his hands in his hoodie's pocket.

"What? Why? You should be grateful!"

"Uh, no I shouldn't. Me becoming a vampire was pretty much the biggest thing in life in that town that I was trying to AVOID. That's why I'm looking for a cure."

She made a face. "A cure? Ew, why?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE A VAMPIRE."

She paused, looked to the side, then back at Pete. "Ew… why not? Ugh, whatever the case, I need to get revenge on you. Like right now. I'm sick of talking. But I usually like it… not today, I guess. Maybe it's because I haven't had anything to eat in the past couple of days." She looked up at the four. "Do you have anything to eat that you can spare?"

Pete looked at the RV. "Uh, we have some ramen that-" Pause. "What… why am I offering you food?! NO, you can't have any food!"

"You want to see something really cool?" Amy had her hands raised menacingly. She had moved on to a whole new topic.

"Uh, no thanks," Pete scowled at her.

She smiled. "Well, I want you to see it!" She laughed, and a current of her dark energy shot out from her hands and towards Pete (specifically, at his head and eyes).

"AH!" Pete clutched his eyes when they were hit. It didn't hurt so much (at least, not yet).

"Whoa! What'd you do?!" Joe shouted at Amy. She simply glanced back at Pete.

Pete took his hands off his eyes. The last thing he saw was the female vamp's smiling face before his world seemed to morph and shift in front of him.

---

"Huh? Where am I?!" Pete demanded of the darkness. His voice echoed off of almost empty streets. It was late at night, and the moon gave everything an eerie glow.

The scene gave him an instant sense of fright, and Pete was about to become even more scared if he didn't look up and see what appeared to be his three friends in the night, about ten feet in front of him.

"Hey! You guys! What's-" Pete cut himself off as he stared at another figure enter his view from the other side of Patrick, Joe and Andrew. A figure he didn't recognize.

In the moonlight, it was visible to Pete that the new figure had a formal suit on, a fedora shadowing his face, carried a cane, and wasn't that much bigger than him.

Before Pete could ask who the form was, the man lifted up his cane. He stood near Joe and lifted his cane slowly above Joe's head, holding it with both hands. Pete gawked at him, unsure of what was going on or where he was, or who this new person was.

And then before Pete could do anything to stop him, the figure suddenly brought his cane down with force onto Joe's skull, making a sickening crack sound that echoed down the street and put a splattered line of blood on the street in front of Joe.

Pete gasped. "JOE!" He shouted before Joe collapsed on the ground on his own blood, dead. "No, no, no!" Pete held his arms up to his chest frantically, nervously, now panicking.

Pete stared in horror as the shadowed outline turned around and stepped forward to Patrick next. He held his now bloodied cane out like a golf club, but held up much higher, right under the level of Patrick's head.

"Patrick! Move! Run! DO SOMETHING!" Pete called out, his legs shaking.

But Patrick stood still, as if something was blocking out Pete's cries. And so the figure whipped his cane forward, snapping Patrick's neck, breaking it, and rendering him killed as well.

"NOOO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Pete shouted to the killer, his voice cracking under the stress. He still couldn't move, only shake in fear, out of shock and terror.

The figure now turned to Andrew and aimed his cane at Andrew's back. Andrew also seemed to be in some sort of trance.

"ANDREW! GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Pete cried out to his last friend, almost in hysterics, with his finger raised up to his lip. He now dashed forward, breaking out of fear, desperate to save Andrew.

But he was too late. As he was running, the suited killer thrust his cane forward with strength and speed, going through Andrew's chest and spreading his blood out both sides. The blood all over the road seemed to stand out more in the moonlight than anything else, practically a glowing red. Then the guy took his cane out of Andrew, allowing more blood to spill as Andrew flopped onto the ground, also dead.

Pete was panting in fear. He wanted to cry, but he was too shocked to. He looked up at the figure. "NO! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS?!"

The figure giggled and took his fedora off, tossing it backwards into a puddle of blood (on purpose). And Pete stared at the man, who was now determined to be a vampire, his fear-filled brown eyes staring into identical, wild brown eyes. Identical eyes, because Pete was staring right back at himself. He had watched himself murder his own friends and decorate the street with their blood and bodies.

Tears of fear and confusion spilled down Pete's face in the eerie moonlight as he shook, watching as his double laughed loudly, a hateful, crazy laugh that seemed to ricochet off the unidentified buildings and cement ground. Tears, because his one, most terrible fear, one that he had tried to avoid all his life, was finally here: he was all alone. And worse yet, he had caused it himself. Unable to take the rushing emotions and thoughts that flooded his head, Pete clutched his throbbing head with both hands and screamed into the nighttime. "NOOOOO! AAAAAAAAAA-"

---

"-aagh," Pete gasped as he came back into reality, immediately collapsing onto all fours and shaking uncontrollably.

"Eh?" Joe asked out loud.

"Hey! What's wrong?" Patrick kneeled down towards Pete. Andrew did the same. They had no idea what was going on; the last thing they saw Pete do before he was on the ground was get his hands off his eyes after they were shot with whatever kind of strange energy Amy had hit him with.

Then Pete threw up on the ground, making Amy look to the side and ramble. "Ew. Get some Pepto Bismol. That's what they use nowadays, don't they? Too pink for me... ew... makes me puke all over again..."

And then, just like that, Pete began to cry openly, making Patrick's mouth drop and Andrew and Joe recoil. Patrick stared at Pete in shock as Amy crossed her arms and watched them, looking bored. Patrick knew something must be very wrong… Pete would never cry like this in front of an enemy, in front of them, in front of ANYONE. If he was going to cry, Pete would be holding back as much as he could, biting his lip 'til it would bleed. In fact, the last time Patrick had ever seen Pete cry this hard was when he attacked a vampire from the Skinhead group on a fire escape (stupidly) and the vamp just tossed him off, causing Pete to break his leg in four places. Pete was eleven at the time. Yes… something was wrong… very wrong… to the point where it was actually beginning to scare Patrick.

"Uh, dude, what's wrong?" Andrew asked, his voice wavering. "What'd she do?"

"If this is a joke, it's not funny!" Patrick demanded, his voice also unsteady. But Pete didn't even hear him over his own sobs.

Joe had his attention turned to Amy. "What'd you do, you little witch?!"

"Little witch?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm just as tall as a majority of the people in your crew,"

Just then, Joe did a very stupid thing: attacked the enemy without knowing specifically what she could do. He ran to attack her with a stake out. Without moving, she thrust her fist out to the side, and a wave of her dark energy whipped across Joe's chest and sent him flying. Luckily, he landed in their RV, on the driver's seat. He looked around in shock. "Uhhh, I guess I'm driving... and I guess we should… get out of here!"

"Right!" Patrick got up and ran back into the vehicle. Andrew followed a few seconds later with Pete slung over his shoulder like a limp towel.

Patrick slammed the door behind Andrew. "Drive!" He signaled to Joe.

As Joe sped the car away, Andrew put the twitching Pete on the small, short sofa. "This always feels SO weird to run. I hate to run. We're doing that a lot lately. We lost just now, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we lost…" Patrick looked away. "But we have to pick our battles. Without Pete we-"

"YEAH, what the HELL happened to him?" Joe glanced behind him, but then went back to the steering wheel.

"How should I know?!" Patrick spread his arms out, in an I-don't-know kind of way. "She shot him in the head with her whatever-the-crap energy and he freaked! I don't know!"

"Did he get hurt?" Andrew looked over at Pete nervously. "He was… uh… pretty… you know… broken up back there…"

Patrick shook his head. "No… he wouldn't break down like that just from physical pain, not as of late. And by 'as of late' I mean the last ten years. There must be something we're not seeing."

Joe glanced back again and then waved at Andrew. "Go, go see if she's following us… or something."

Andrew walked over to the end of the RV. "You lost her, unless she has some secret 'inviso-vehicle', because I didn't see any means of transportation around her."

"Okay, good," Patrick looked back at Pete, who was on his sofa-bed, still shaking uncontrollably and whimpering like an injured puppy dog. "Uh… Pete? Are you okay?" Patrick reached out to touch Pete. But the second he did, Pete flinched and whipped his hand out to ward off Patrick, then went back into his defenseless state. He put his arms up over his head and went into the fetal position.

"Or I'll just… wait until you're, you know, more okay…" Patrick stepped away.

"Wellll, what do you want to do?" Andrew looked at Patrick. Joe put on the brakes, then turned to look at Patrick, also waiting for an answer before covering any more distance.

"Okay…" Patrick looked stressed out. "Let's just, let's just… keep going on wherever we're supposed to be going next. If Pete isn't better in two hours, we'll stop at like, a hospital or something."

"What hospitals take vampires these days?" Joe asked.

"The none kind," Andrew answered from where he was sitting on his bunk, looking defeated.

"Not necessarily. There are these 'underground vampire doctors' who do," Patrick stated. "I'm guessing the only reason vampires would want to be treated is if they had a bad enough of injury that would actually take less time to heal if it was treated by a doctor."

"I heard that if vampires get infections they won't heal," Joe asked.

"Well, infections I think just hinder it. I don't know. You'd think that their wounds heal before infection has time to set in." Patrick shrugged. "I don't know, look it up."

"Looking it up is for squares," Joe shook his head and started the RV again.

"Nah, I look things up all the time!" Patrick responded.

Silence.

"Oh. Silence. Touché."