Author's Note: As before, ## used for paragraph breaks. The passge in italics is the flashback of their conversation :) And yes, lots of angst, with much more to come :)

Declan sat in the driver's seat of his battered Jeep and sighed inwardly, the silence permeating the vehicle depressing him as they waited in the traffic queue to get into Heathrow Airport. Wena sat less than two feet away in the passenger seat, and hadn't said a word since they had left the Sanctuary. In fact, she hadn't said much for the past twenty four hours, ever since Declan had informed her she was being transferred to the Old City Sanctuary for evaluation. The conversation hadn't been a pleasant one, Declan recalled with a grimace.

"What the hell do you mean, I'm being transferred?" she demanded, the look of shock and hurt on her face causing Declan's heart to constrict.

"Helen wants to evaluate you, see if we can find out the extent of your powers," He replied, trying to calm her. The pain and betrayal in her eyes almost made him call the whole thing off right there but he knew that if she stayed, he'd end up hurting her and he wasn't about to let that happen.

"Evaluate? You mean poke and prod me, run experiments to find out what I am? You bastard, Declan! You're letting them make me into a bloody lab rat!" she snarled, her pain making her angry. "Why the hell did you help me?"

"I helped you because you were dying!" he snapped back, his insides twisting in pain.

"Well, I wish I'd never asked you for help! I wish you'd let me die out there!" the words were out of her mouth before she had time to think, but her feelings of betrayal fuelled her anger. The look on his face was worse than if she had stabbed him and twisted the knife in his guts, but she ignored it as she turned on her heel and stormed off.

##

Declan shook his head, the pain still raw from her reckless words. That pain, however, paled into insignificance beside the feelings of loss he was fighting with at the thought of her not being around anymore. And that fact that they were parting ways with so much left unresolved and words spoken in anger was making him feel worse. What worried him the most was the fact that since he had collected her from her room earlier in the morning, she had been lethargic and docile. Breakfast had been eaten in silence and she had meekly accepted his instructions about what would happen when they reached the airport. He was worried that she felt he had betrayed her, and in truth, he felt as if he had done exactly that by sending her away. For the hundredth time, he berated himself for his inability to cope with the situation, and worried about how Helen would view the mess he'd gotten into. Would she think him weak? Would she want to replace him as Head of House in London because he couldn't handle a difficult situation? "No point dwelling on it," he thought, pushing such worries from his mind for the time being. The traffic began moving again and he focused on the task at hand, burying his fears until a time when he could look over them properly.

##

Declan's right hand, currently wrapped around Wena's left upper arm, tingled where his fingertips touched her bare skin. Dressed in jeans donated by Sasha and one of his faded Pink Floyd concert t-shirts, she looked just like any other passenger; to any observer, she looked like another human woman, waiting to catch a flight. Even her tattoos would not be seen as particularly unusual; twin dragons, one on each arm, encircled her arm from her hand to her shoulder in brown ink. Only her eyes would give the lie to that image; they changed colour depending on her mood, and were currently almost black. His tight grip on her arm ruined the effect as well, but he wasn't about to let her out of his sight, or his grasp, until they were safely on their plane. As they entered the customs area, he steered her to an empty area marked "Private Passengers" and placed his bag onto the conveyor. As he expected it would, the alarm started sounding the moment the scanner picked up the multiple weapons in his bag. The alarms shrilly announced his holstered pistol when he walked through the person scanner and people stopped to stare as security moved towards him. They searched him, removing his pistol and waited for the head of security to arrive, all the while being stared at by passengers who'd never seen someone stopped for carrying a gun before. Ryan Townsend, head of security at Heathrow airport, walked onto the scene and stopped, holding his hand out imperiously for Declan's passport. Without a word, he handed the passport back and motioned to his colleagues to let them proceed, personally handing Declan his gun and winking slyly.

"Have a pleasant trip, Mr McCrae," he said, his tone amused. "And say hello to Helen for me." Declan smiled and nodded, taking his grip on Wena's arm once more and moving them towards the passengers lounge. He ignored the look Ryan gave him as they moved away, not wanting to try and explain the situation at that time.

##

Sitting in the passenger lounge while they waited for their flight, Declan couldn't help feeling self conscious as people stared at them. A lot of those staring were people going through customs when they had, and obviously word had spread through the people gathered as many more were staring at them. From the huge expanse of window that ran down one side of the area, he could see one of Helen's sleek black jets taxiing onto the area where they would embark. Spotting one of the crew at the exit door, he tugged Wena to her feet and started them moving.

"Why don't you just put cuffs on me?" she snipped at him angrily. "It would certainly enforce the image of my being a prisoner that you seem to be going for today."

"You're not a bloody prisoner!" he snapped back, his temper frayed.

"Could have fooled me," she spat out, ignoring the curious stares as people overheard their conversation.

"Keep this shit up and I will have you bound and gagged, understand?" he threatened, hearing several horrified gasps as others heard his threat.

"You're no different from them, Declan," she declared quietly, yanking her arm from his bruising grasp. Head high and back straight, she marched towards the exit door, ignoring his muttered curses. They almost ran down the metal steps and out onto the tarmac of the embarkation area where their plane waited. A few feet from the steps which lead up into the plane, Declan suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loss again, a split second before Wena bolted.

##

She ran as if the very Hounds of Hell were after her, back towards the perceived safety of the passenger terminal they had recently exited. She heard him behind her, his boots pounding against the tarmac as he chased after her and tried to catch up. She tried to call on her reserves of energy, which would help her outrun her pursuer, and cursed when she realised she hadn't had enough time to replenish what she'd lost during her months on the run. Her damaged legs ached, the panther bites burning and the stitches straining; her lungs gasped for breath, adrenaline coursing through her as she neared her goal. "Only a few more feet," she thought to herself, chanting the words like a mantra to keep her going. A sharp pain in her side, as one of the sets of stitches broke, caused her to stumble and she knew she had lost, as she felt Declan's hands on her shoulders. Losing her balance, they both pitched forward, falling to the tarmac and rolling to break their fall. Somehow, she wasn't sure how, the rolling ended with Declan straddling her, one hand pressed against her throat while the other held his pistol to her forehead. She hissed at him, her eyes red with fury and her canines elongating, similar to a vampire's fangs and he pressed harder against her throat until she stopped struggling against him.

"Try that again, and I'll put a bullet into your brain, got it?" he snarled, breathing heavily. "You wanted cuffs, cos you said you felt like a prisoner? Well, guess what? You get your wish." Jumping to his feet, he hauled her to her feet and holstered his pistol, turning her around and roughly pulling her arms behind her back as he bound her hands together.

"Bastard," she spat out, her 'fangs' receding and her eyes turning back to black. Turning to look him, with a sneer on her face, she aimed a kick to his groin which he only just avoided and he grabbed her arm again in a vice-like grip.

##

He walked her back to the plane, as hundreds of passengers looked on in shock and horror from the passenger lounge. Marching her up the steps and into the plane, he deposited her into one of the leather seats and motioned for the attendant to close the hatch, cutting off any possible escape routes. Flicking his knife out, he cut the bounds holding her hands and walked towards the rear of the plane, where he knew a first aid kit was located. Carrying the box back, he knelt beside her and reached out to lift her t-shirt so he could dress her broken stitches, but paused when she flinched away from him.

"I need to dress your wound. Your stitches have broken," he explained, his voice calm and his tone gentle.

"I'll do it," she replied, reaching out for the bandage but refusing to meet his gaze.

"It would be easier if I did it," he told her, reaching out towards her again.

"I said, I'll do it. You will never touch me again, understand?" she snapped, finally meeting his gaze. He could see the hurt in her eyes; his betrayal of her trust was clear and his heart constricted as he realised he had broken his promise.

"Wena..." he started, shutting up at the look she shot him.

"Go to Hell," she spat, grabbing the bandage. Lifting her bloody t-shirt, she deftly applied the dressing and held it in place with several strips of surgical tape. "You're no different to them," she sighed, her voice full of pain as tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she made it clear she wasn't going to talk any further and Declan sighed, taking the seat opposite her.

##

He watched her silently, as the tears eventually dried up and her breathing even out and slowed, indicating she had fallen asleep. His entire body trembled with stress, both from her flight and the ensuing chase, and from their argument afterwards. His chest hurt as he recalled the pain and betrayal in her eyes, caused by his broken promise, and hated himself for doing the one thing he had been afraid he'd do; hurt her. "Still, it solves the problem," his logical side told him. "She's not going to keep trying to seduce you now, is she?" the thought came, and with it came the pain. "If this is what I wanted, why the hell does it hurt so much now I've got it?" he demanded of himself silently, unable to find the answer to the most important question he'd ever had to ask. In a few hours, she would be out of his life for good, and that realisation caused a piece of his heart and soul to die, as the agony of the reality hit him.

Thanks to melissaadams22 for the reviews :) Hopefully will have several chapters for you guys to read today :)