A/N: Thank you AussieMaelstrom for being my beta!

Regrets collect like old friends

Here to relive your darkest moments

I can see no way, I can see no way

And all the ghouls come out to play

And every demon wants his pound of flesh

But I like to keep some things to myself

I like to keep my issues strong

It's always darkest before the dawn

1990

Her toes curled into the sand, as the cold-water brushed against her ankles. The wind was tearing upon the thin grey cloth that hung on her frail frame, but she did not mind. She soon scampered across the shore, leaving small footprints that were swallowed up by the sea.

A voice was spurring her on, "Étoile," it whispered.

She had heard it while her hand lingered on her sleeping mother, whose chest did not move anymore in the cottage by the shore.

The words spoken weren't her name however. Neither did she remember her name, for nobody said it anymore. There was only one thing she knew, and that was that she was alone.

It was then she saw the boy; his voice calling out, though his lips weren't moving. His face was pale, his body drenched in water, as he lay on the shore. She bent down besides him, taking in his pale face, and wondered – was he too asleep?

She did not know, digging her hands into the sand, as she tried to think of a way to wake him. The skin on her hands cracked open on a jagged rock, but she did not mind. Her body was riddled with scars and bruises, so the blood that burst forth was nothing to her. In the end she let her tiny hands roam the face of the boy, when she did not find an answer in the sand. He remained still, not whispering the words that brought her there. She stayed by his side for a while, until his eyes broke open, blue and unyielding…

Brrrrrrrring.

Molly's eyes blinked open, her hand slipping from underneath her chin, as she realised she'd fallen asleep during class again. She sighed, catching the eye of several classmates, but they only grinned at her. Everyone always thought she was just taking naps for the fun of it, to prove that she didn't need to stay awake to be the top of the class, but she knew differently.

The bell was ringing of course, everyone hastily getting up on their feet, as several shouted, "Merry Christmas!" It was after all the holidays, though for her it probably meant more lessons.

These lessons were not about cramming maths or writing essays, for she'd done most of that already, so she wouldn't have to worry about it.

Molly slowly stood up from her seat, carefully packing her rucksack, as she was one of the few left behind. Not that she minded really, for she didn't feel like chatting about her holidays, knowing she'd probably have to lie anyway.

Someone coughed loudly, and she looked up to see Professor Strand eyeing her, "Miss Hooper – you don't look especially pleased on the prospect of a holiday."

His glasses were perched on his long nose, as he slowly raised his brows at her. Professor Strand never minded if she fell asleep during his classes, his voice gravelly enough to induce such a thing. No one minded, since Mycroft had devised a false slip about her suffering from narcolepsy. To begin with she'd be woken up, but to the various professors bemusement she'd always have the answer ready. It was as if a part of her was present, while the other was asleep.

Molly sighed, "I'm just a bit tired, sir," she said finally slinging her rug-sack onto her back, stifling back a yawn.

"Do try to have a holiday, Miss Hooper," he said with a knowing expression, before wandering out with his briefcase.

Holiday.

She liked the sound of that, but no, she had to learn the ways of a hunter instead. It would seem less pointless had she met any villainous vampires since that night. Her having a protector seemed unnecessary, especially when he wasn't there. She hadn't seen him since she left the Holmes estate, but truth be told it was as if he were there anyway.

Their dreams, their thoughts, their feelings all melted together as one. She did not know where she started and he began.

He really had lied when he said distance would make her hurt less, and she knew he too was suffering. If he was her salvation, she felt she was being punished for it. For he, Sherlock Holmes, was a ghost and he was haunting her. No news was given about him, not about his whereabouts, or how he was, as her guardians had not mentioned him since.

Neither did she know how to breach the topic, as to what had happened that night. A night that kept slipping away from her every time she gave it a thought, as if he was trying to keep it away from her. She just knew one thing and that something important had taken place that night, and it was not just in the sense of her virtue being gone.

There was something else, like a distant memory, and her dreams were the clues. At the beginning, when she'd started to slip away like that she supposed it was just dreams, but the same scene repeated itself, always stopping when the boy woke up. The harder she tried to understand it, the less she did. It was like everything else in her life at the moment.

She was a part of a world that she saw no evidence of, except those tiny fragments she had from Mycroft displaying his powers. This winter he had been spending a ghastly amount of time at Baker Street, to her annoyance, though she supposed it was some of Sherlock's feelings influencing her, but she started to agree with him.

"Molly," cried out a voice causing her to stop in the hallway.

There was only one person who'd regularly shout her name at school, and that was Mary, a curvy blonde, who was currently bearing a massive grin on her face. However, the instant she caught up with her she was heaving for breath, as she said breathlessly, "What are you doing tonight, then?"

Mary had been asking her the same question all week, to her horror, as she didn't have the strength to compose another lie as to why she couldn't go out, like everyone else did. She'd been turning her down for ages. Either Mrs Hudson, or granny, as everyone thought she was – was ill – or her uncle Mycroft was forcing her on a trip out of the city, but for once she didn't want to lie. After all, they hadn't told her whether or not this Christmas was going to be spent entirely on lessons yet, "Err – I – don't know," she said feeling stupid.

"I'll take that as a yes then – as I said – the party is tonight," said Mary with a broad grin, putting her hand on her shoulder, as they walked together down the rather empty hallways.

"I-," said Molly almost wanting to make up an excuse. Truth be told she was nervous about going out. She'd heard enough stories of the goings-on to know that she might feel a bit uncomfortable dolling herself up, only to have someone throw sick on her shoes.

Mary groaned, "Come on – it'll be fun – I promise! After all Tim's going, and he fancies you, you know. After all, you've never been to a pub."

"Wait – a pub? – I thought you said it was a party?" said Molly surprised.

The idea of a party had seemed safer, at least, for then they'd be in someone's home.

"Right – ok – so not a party, but your granny's so nice though. She'd say yes in a sodding heartbeat if you asked her for a bottle of wine, even. I'm sure she won't say no now, and we can even - dance," said Mary who demonstratively wiggled her hip against Molly who recoiled in surprise.

She stopped in her stride, "It's not a pub either, is it?" she said laughing, when Mary gave her a guilty face.

"Ok – right – it's not a party or a pub. It's a new club."

"A club?"

"It's supposed to be posh, too, and there'll be loads of people there. Hopefully the cool ones, don't you think? Especially if we are there. Just say yes, will you? I'm not taking a no for once," said Mary running off in the distance, "I've got to go – but – I'll be around your flat around nine – we're – going to have fun – I promise!"

Mary disappeared off at that, late for her bus, as always, while Molly slowly walked until she was outside the school-gates. She met the familiar black car that drove her to and from school everyday, where a man stood leaning on the car, his face shielded by a newspaper. He dropped it the second he saw her.

"Hello – Peter," she said eyeing the paper he tucked underneath his arm, as he propped his hat on top of his ginger curls.

"Good afternoon, Molly. Ready for the holidays, then?" he said all business-like, giving her a wry smile, as he busied himself with the task of opening her door.

She broke out in a smile, soon settling inside, as he shut the door behind her, hurriedly occupying the driver seat, "No…not really. I don't think I've got a holiday this year either – Mycroft might already be hiding behind the door to kill me."

"He won't do that again, Miss Hooper, I'm sure he won't," said Peter who was trying hard not to laugh.

"I know – it's just – I wish he wasn't so cross about it still," she said with a giggle, as they drove off to Baker Street.

It wasn't like Molly couldn't walk, or take the tube, but she was well guarded – too guarded in her opinion. Luckily none of her classmates seemed to think much of it, occasionally getting in with her, as the school was private after all. Molly knew she was getting the best of the best, according to Mycroft Holmes.

Her school uniform was in pristine order, so were her shoes, but her rucksack was still the same old one she'd gotten from her dad on her 15th birthday. She didn't wish to part with it, even with how well-worn it looked, "He'll get over it, you know," said Peter interrupting her thoughts, and reminding her of Mycroft's involvement in her lessons.

He wasn't particularly fond of being involved hands-on – legwork was apparently not his thing, as he mainly spoke to her, which she suspected was due to his not wanting to dirty his immaculate suits.

"It is merely deduction or observation, if you like," he had said to her, explaining to her why he always knew what she'd been up to, the minute he saw her.

"You mean just seeing people?" she said dumbfounded.

"No, there is a difference between looking and observing. If I look at a person I make a form of judgement based on prejudice. Observation, however, is an intricate view on the details surrounding the person – from a well-worn shoe – to an expensive watch – all can be seen if you look hard enough. It is beneficial if you know how to do this, it'll make you aware of anyone suspicious."

She tried for weeks, barely scraping the surface of his meaning, while Mrs Hudson's lessons were the opposite. Molly knew that the reason she took it with ease was because apparently she was a natural from birth. Still, the old woman was surprisingly quick on her feet, as well as strong, though Mrs Hudson usually sat knitting while she made Molly do her exercises on her own.

"The most important thing, dear – is to think on your feet. Your reflexes are quicker than others, not unlike a vampire, but you still have to keep your head about you."

She liked Mrs Hudson best of course, even if she knew little about her, but she knew even less when it came to Mycroft. She only knew he liked to be in control, as he'd regularly know everything that happened during her day with or without Peter telling him.

Peter, from what she understood, used to work for the government, dealing with secrets, which was obviously why he was driving her around London wherever she liked to go (mostly to Baker Street however). She didn't understand why he'd gotten this job instead, but it comforted her having him around. Not because she was afraid of a vampire-attack in broad daylight, but by the fact that he seemed blissfully normal.

He didn't pop out with random remarks like Mrs Hudson did, suddenly telling her about a bit of a problem she once had with a vampire, or advise her to be vigilant like Mycroft did. Mostly what Peter did was laugh at the whole thing, which in some ways was odd, but she found it easier to breathe.

She felt normal around him, instead of the last survivor of her family. The last Hooper of what was once a great family. Her father had never mentioned it to her, only briefly saying that her grandparents had died before she was born, but they'd all been murdered. No wonder he didn't talk much his family.

It hadn't been a good day hearing that, or the fact that her dad had been slowly poisoned to death, and the memory made her jump into the car with Peter. He drove her off getting her ice cream, as he started talking about his romantic failures to distract her.

"Do you think they'll let me go?" she asked seeing his eyes flicker towards her in the mirror, letting her thoughts rest instead on something normal. Her friends weren't orphaned, their parents weren't murdered by something as ridiculous as vampires, though when asked she'd only mentioned them being in a car-accident.

"Go where?" he said with an innocent expression, pursing his lips at her.

"You always know Peter – I suppose he's got ears all around the school," she said not meeting his eye, "Do you think they'll let me go to this party, then?"

"I think you mean club," said Peter with a chuckle.

Molly grinned, "Ok – club," she said looking up.

"You're a bit young, aren't you?" he said with a serious expression, "Not that I'm the best to ask about this, since I started rather - err – well – are you going to drink, then?"

"No," she said looking affronted.

He raised a brow at her, "Right."

"I suppose it's going to be lessons this Christmas, again," she said letting out a breath.

"Chin up, Molly. It won't be that bad, at least you'll get to thrash Mycroft around a bit."

She was surprisingly strong for being so small, it was the benefits of being a hunter, she supposed.

The minute she'd gotten to 221 Baker Street, the door swinging open at her touch she heard the kettle go off behind Mrs Hudson's door. Molly hung up her coat, as she settled her rucksack on the floor heading into the older woman's flat. She lived alone upstairs, which was odd for her, but Mrs Hudson wasn't more than a shout away.

A hunter was supposed to be alone, after all.

When one ventured into Mrs Hudson's little flat, one knew it was hers. It was the smell of potpourri, to the ridiculous ornamental figurines, the well-stocked kitchen, and the baked goods that occupied tin-boxes with the Queen drawn upon them, "Had a good day then, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked the minute she'd gotten to the kitchen, settling down upon a chair, as the woman handed her a cup of tea.

She sat with the cuppa in her hands as she sighed, "We're going to work during Christmas, aren't we?"

Mrs Hudson tutted loudly, settling into the chair across from her, "No, not this year dear. I wasn't keen on doing it last, but it's going to be different this time. You should have some days off at least, to put your feet up, and then there's that party."

Molly perked up at that, though she felt herself frowning, "How do you know?"

"Your friend Mary is rather loud, dear," she said with a smile, "Peter doesn't need to listen very hard when she's chattering away like that."

Molly took a sip of her cup, "I don't need to go, you know."

"It'll be good for you, to be out with others your age. You can't be stuck here with me during your holidays. It's not like you'll be doing this every night."

"No, it's alright. I think I'll just stay in."

Mrs Hudson looked at her for a moment, settling her cup into its saucer, "Molly, it's not that you shouldn't have friends, it's just you need-,"

"To be aware there might be trouble," said Molly, "I know, but I don't even know if I want to go."

"You're 17 now – a young girl your age – well, I'd be out dancing, if I were you, and Mycroft says you should."

"Mycroft?" said Molly gaping, "He wants me to go?"

"Locking yourself up won't do you, or any of those around you any favours. There's a difference between learning to be alone, and being alone. After all, I do get on with things."

She bit her lip, slowly smiling, "That's true, you've always got Norah over."

"Yes, well - I've got to have some fun after all – I'd be driven mad if I stayed in doors, and so would you. After all Mycroft isn't one to have round for tea, exactly."

"He does come often, though."

"Oh, he likes to keep an eye on things, that one does, unlike his brother."

She blinked at that, feeling her cheeks flush at the mere mention of him, as she quickly asked, "Where is Sherlock – I've not seen him – since-,"

"Oh I don't know he likes to wander off – oh – look at the time… You better get dressed, it'll probably take some time before you've got all your things in order, when Mary pops round."

Being forced to be a teenager wasn't exactly ideal, as she hardly expected to be shoved promptly out of the door, when she was worried they weren't going to let her go out in the first place.

Now, instead of feeling like she'd been rewarded with a holiday, she felt dreadful, but she knew it was nerves. She was still coping with the fact that she was actually going out, properly, and with people she liked. Molly felt dread fill her while she got dressed, and it didn't vanish the second the doorbell rang, making her run shakily down the steps in a hurry.

She opened the door to Mary who was occupied with a bag from Tesco's, "So – I've got-," she said taking to stop, when she saw her, "Wait – you're – you're dressed?"

"You – you thought I wasn't going?" said Molly startled, as Mary started to grin broadly.

"Oh my God – you're actually – wow – ok – this is fantastic," said Mary who dropped the bag from Tesco's inside, "Except the bit where I've worn a jumper, but I can still dance."

"We don't have to," said Molly hurriedly.

"It's only crisps in the bag, so forget the crisps – we're going," she said pushing at Molly forcing her to get her coat, while Mrs Hudson stepped out of her flat.

"Mary, you look festive," said Mrs Hudson, eyeing Mary's red jumper.

"Hiya gran," said Mary with a small wave of her hand, while Molly buttoned up her coat, soon slinging her rucksack on her back. Mary who was about to open her mouth to say something to Mrs Hudson stared, "You're not bringing that, are you?"

Molly adjusted the straps on her shoulders, feeling the reassuring weight on her back, as she knew the contents – a purse – her keys – and the heaviest object; a stake.

A hunter should always be prepared.

"Err, it's just – I've got all I need in this," said Molly eyeing Mrs Hudson who laughed.

"I think it'll be best to take the small one, don't you agree?" said Mrs Hudson to Mary who nodded.

"You're not bringing books with you, are you?" said Mary who reached for her rucksack, causing Molly to pull back, "Honestly, Molly – it's Christmas – you're not supposed to be doing any work yet."

"Ok…I'll get the other one, then," she said running upstairs to fetch the smallest bag she had, which no matter how hard she tried didn't have room for the stake.

She'd been bringing it to school every day.

It wasn't like she expected an ambush during class, and even though she knew only one vampire who wandered about in broad daylight, she felt safe with its presence. Molly barely knew if she could in fact use it, since the idea of actually killing someone didn't please her. The thought of her parents having been purposefully taken away from her however did fuel the instinct. But she knew from listening in that it was most likely just one who was behind their deaths, but she couldn't mindlessly kill everyone in her path to find that one vampire.

She stepped away from the stake uneasily, feeling slightly better the second she saw Mrs Hudson's pleased smile, and knew that it was only her over-thinking things that made her feel like something was going to go wrong.

She was handed a fake ID with a photo of woman at the end of her twenties, who did not look at all like her, as the woman was Chinese. Mary frowned at her own ID, taking to look at sandy-haired Alex who looked rather pleased that he'd gotten them all ID's, "Nobody's going to believe this," said Mary disgruntled, as Alex frowned at her.

"We've obviously just got to flirt our way in," said Lucy, Alex's girlfriend with her luscious dark hair, and all-too obvious cleavage, making Molly look towards Mary who snorted.

"We'll probably end up at a dingy pub at this rate," said Mary.

"I worked really hard getting those," said Alex, offended, "If you want you can pay me twenty quid."

"Oh, shut it Alex – you got these for free anyway," said Tim smacking his friend on the arm causing him to flinch, "They're all expired – no one's going to believe I'm thirty-two years old."

"We'll try - ok, so you lot can stop with your moaning," said Lucy annoyed, "He didn't have to find ones for you anyway."

All of them moved along the darkened streets, with Molly feeling widely out of her element, as they were trying to find the new club, "It should be around here," said Alex wandering ahead of them squinting into the distance.

"Brilliant," muttered Tim smoothing his hand over his hair, when his brown eyes landed on her. She turned her attention to Mary instead.

She knew Tim liked her, more than liked her, but every time she bothered to properly think of it – a pair of piercing blue eyes popped up in her head. Molly started to wonder, since she hadn't found one boy in a year below or above at all fit, unlike her usual silliness.

It was like she'd developed a fault, really – "Oh – do you hear that?" said Alex with his finger pointed upwards, as they all stared at him oddly.

Alex didn't seem deterred by it, promptly clapping his hands together, as he strode confidently ahead now – the level of chattering and music increasing with every step. In the end they were finally stationed outside a place with a large hot pink neon sign, "The Crimson – that's original," said Mary eyeing Lucy, as the pair of them started to laugh.

Alex shook his head at them, "Right, ok – we'll just get in the queue-,"

"Let's just do it, then - it'll look more suspicious if we stand about talking about it," said Tim, and the girls followed after him, with Molly lingering slightly behind her eyes staring at the sign.

She only started to move when Mary was tugging at the sleeve of her arm, while Molly tried to convince herself it was nerves. They all placed themselves in the queue that moved at a much quicker rate than she supposed, overhearing whispered conversations, "They're letting everyone in."

Molly didn't feel any better when they were suddenly faced with the surly looking doorman who was standing in only a black t-shirt, undeterred by the cold, as he just jerked his thumb towards the door, while they all tried to scramble for their fake ID's. She was the only one who didn't bear an excited expression on her face, the second the door was opened, and the loud music swallowed up all form of coherent thought and speech.

The light inside the club was of a crimson shade of course, which suited the name – with the largest dance floor, and a long bar stuck to the right – red light flooding behind the bartenders. There were luckily loads of small round tables littered around the dance floor, which was a step down from the sitting areas. They hastily tore off to one unoccupied table, removing their coats, to compensate for the excruciating heat inside.

According to their ID's they were well above legal, though it didn't stop Lucy from giving a bit of a high-pitched squeal of joy, as she laughed, "We bloody got in!"

"I honestly can't believe it, shit – I'm buying drinks – anyone want some?" said Alex loudly pointing at them – with Lucy – Tim – Mary nodding, everyone except her. "Molly – come on – one drink-," he said to her, before wagging his brows cheekily at Tim who turned red, though it might have been a trick of the light.

"Could I have a coke?" she said speaking over the music.

"A coke with rum it is!" said Alex running off to the bar, before she'd gotten the chance to stop him sitting down in a huff on her chair.

"It'll be alright, Molly," said Mary whose head was bouncing in time with the music, as Tim sat on the other side of her.

Alex returned with the drinks quickly after that, slamming the obnoxiously tiny glasses on the table, "5 pounds, I could have sodding made this one myself – I almost bought you the coke," said Alex annoyed sliding the glass over to Molly, who thanked him by taking a large sip of her straw, "I'm getting a pint – you lot pay the next round."

"You should try to enjoy that," said Tim with a laugh, as she'd almost emptied half of her glass.

What Tim didn't know was that for her it was ordinary coke. Alcohol didn't have the same effect on her according to Mycroft ("People do feel inclined to speak with you if they assume you are inebriated however, so use it to your advantage"), but she didn't feel like announcing that. She just pulled the straw from her mouth giving him a sheepish expression in return. She hadn't wanted Alex to waste his pounds since she couldn't get pissed anyway.

"We're really in a posh club though – look at them," said Lucy who was eying the people dancing, as she held onto her fruity drink that was bigger than theirs, "I don't see - ok, I see some – not good looking ones, but the lot of them are-,"

A man appeared by their table, his dark tousled hair falling into his face, as he silently gestured his head to the dance floor. Lucy stared at him gobsmacked for a second mouthing the words – me – until he more or less pulled her giggling onto the dance floor, "She's not wrong," said Mary, "Oh God – Alex won't like this."

"I'm not planning on telling him," said Tim, "It's only a dance after all." The words had barely left his mouth when they saw Lucy getting into a far more intimate dance than required of the song that was playing. Her body was rather close to the attractive man guiding her expertly on the floor, and the three of them stared at Alex who returned with his pint looking relieved.

"Sorry bit of queue - I think the bartenders on something – his eyes were rather shifty," he said putting down his pint, "What?" he snapped at them.

Mary avoided his eyes; while Molly felt her eyes turn towards Lucy who was snogging the man on the dance floor, "Mate – err - Lucy's sort of – well," said Tim clearing his voice, as he gestured towards the dance floor.

Alex gaped at the sight, "What the bloody hell?" he said.

"He just asked her for – a dance," said Mary hesitantly, but it was too late, as Alex moved swiftly pushing people out of his way.

Tim groaned loudly, a hand covering his face, for he clearly didn't want to watch Alex make an arse of himself while the girls stared in abject horror. The second Alex was about to poke the bloke on his shoulder however, a girl in a tight-fitting black dressed appeared at his side, her hands on his shoulder, as she whispered something into his ear. Suddenly it seemed that Alex didn't care about his girlfriend at all, as he was dancing with this girl instead, "What – just like that?" said Mary taken aback, "Honestly, doesn't she know he's just 17?"

"Must be the drugs," said Tim looking suspiciously into his own pint for a second making Mary laugh.

Molly, whose uneasy feelings did not waver since getting in the club, started to feel that she wasn't alone in her worry, as he seemed to be worried too. She could feel the anxiety build slowly in her stomach, while she tried to search the dance floor, taking in the curious thing that Lucy observed. There were a fair share of people there, some who were near her age, all having gotten in, and then there were those who looked older, but seemed quite keen on the younger lot. Everyone was paired up with people who seemed far too attractive for them, their looks sort of angelic even, "We should dance," said Mary all of a sudden disturbing her thoughts.

"I – I – I think I'll sit," said Molly who was still staring.

"Ok – well – I'm getting out there," said Mary standing up tugging her jumper down, as she looked at Tim, "You want to dance?"

"It's not – err – I think I'll just sit here, and watch over the drinks with Molly," he said in one breath, causing Mary to give her a look.

Her friend soon disappeared off to the dance floor, giving them an awkward wave, as she stood alone for a second, until a blonde-haired man approached her. Molly's attentions were soon shifted, as Tim seemed to be moving his chair closer to hers.

Her eyes turned to him briefly, before she turned back to keep an eye on Mary and her dance-partner, "So – Molly – you're not one for going out – how come you wanted to come?"

"I just…thought it'd be fun," she said not looking at him, as she saw Mary was chatting with the man pointing towards them. It was apparent that she wanted to take him with her to the table.

"Right, well – you don't exactly look like you're having fun," said Tim.

Molly opened her mouth to answer, though she became distracted when Mary stopped moving on the dance floor. Her friend was looking rather upset, especially when the man who danced with her took hold of her arm, talking to her. It was enough to make Molly half-sit up in her seat, intending to rescue her friend, but – the man's eyes flashed a deep red keeping her friend in place.

"Oh God," said Molly – the nerves slowly building themselves up in her stomach, worsening by the second, as she saw the other people on the dance floor; they were all in a trance-like state. None of them were dancing with the music at all, their movements slow, and their faces vacant, except that of their partner who seemed delighted.

"Molly is everything, alright?" asked Tim who looked at her bewildered.

She hoped it was all right, but she knew it wasn't. This was why she hadn't wanted to go, like she'd known of it to begin with. She scrambled for her bag, but she knew the familiar touch of wood wasn't there, "Molly?" Tim said, his voice sounding distant, as she felt more and more distressed.

Molly felt a sudden ache in her head – it was rage – he was very angry, and she felt the words pour out of her lips, feeling slightly faint, "The crimson," she said.

The sprinklers in the ceiling were suddenly turned on, but it was not water that gushed down into the parted lips of the participants below on the dance floor.

It was blood.