Author's Note: Hmm. Absolutely no feedback on chapters six and seven so far… damn): Oh well. I'm not gonna be one of those authors that stops writing a story because of a lack of approval/feedback. I'm dragging this bitch out till the end(:

In addition, I'm not sure if it let out an alert or not so I'm just going to tell you: Go back to chapter seven and re-read at least the end. I was wrong about the scene; I needed all four to be in that one after all, so there's a new scene there. Read that, then come back to this chapter. Cool? Cool.

In further news, there's gonna be a tad bit of graphic violence in the last scene. Just a warning.

Darren approached Michaela's house about an hour after sunset. He knocked on her door out of courtesy— a habit he refused to break, despite her insistence— and waited for it to open. He smiled when he imagined the look on her face when she opened the door and saw it was him. He was late, and he had a feeling that Michaela had given up on him by now. He was going to actually seeing the regained sense of faith engraved into all of her features.

His smile faded, however, when the door cracked to reveal her face, complete with a bloody mark on her temple. The picture standing before him was completely wrong. Instead of seeming overjoyed like he'd expected, her expression was dismal and her eyes weary. "What's wrong?" he demanded upon seeing her. "What happened?"

She widened the door enough to make conversation easier, but only enough so that he could see half of her face. Her eyes glued themselves to the floor as she lied, "Nothing…"

"Then can I come in?" he asked, raising both eyebrows. He knew he had her right where he wanted her; she had never done well when it came to situations such as these.

"NO!" she shouted without thinking. She bit her lip, knowing that any hopes of him remaining ignorant to her pain had vanished with that outburst. She looked at the ground ashamedly as she whispered, "You, uh, can't stay here tonight…"

"Why not?"

"MICHAELA! WHO THE FUCK IS AT THE DOOR?" a booming voice, deep and angry, bellowed from inside.

"Your brother is here," Darren whispered. He'd known that something was off, but he'd expected it to be something like Steve showing up. He had no idea that it would be this bad…

"NOBODY, JOSHUA!" Michaela shouted into the house. She looked back at Darren and whispered, "You have to leave… I'm so sorry…"

"I'm not leaving you here alone with him," he responded simply. He refused to leave her in harm's way. If anything happened to her, he knew that he could never forgive himself.

She bit her lip again, tapping her foot to a nervous, tuneless beat as she thought about it. "Meet me on my balcony in five minutes," she finally agreed begrudgingly. She looked back at the house, a look of fear suddenly taking on her features— she'd obviously seen something that he hadn't caught— and slammed the door in his face.

Steve stood before Michaela's house, taking a deep breath before approaching it. He knew of his future now, and he had thought that the confirmation of greatness would erase his ex-girlfriend from his mind. However, watching so many people die before their time only reminded him of the girl he'd left behind. He didn't even care if her hair was disgustingly choppy and that she was only a remnant of her past self. He was going to go in there and show her exactly what it meant to be the Vampaneze Lord. He was going to go in there and show her exactly why she loved him, and exactly why she could never let him go.

He scaled the two stories until he was on her balcony. He opened the sliding door, stepped into her room, and froze. Hot air blew in his face, but it didn't stop the chill from running down his spine or the ice from setting itself in his heart. He took a step closer in disbelief— an emotion that was only heightened when he saw who it was.

Darren.

"What the fuck?" he shouted angrily with no sense of forethought. Michaela sat up rapidly, fear in her eyes. The expression was replaced by upset when she squinted and frowned, gazing confusedly at her ex-boyfriend. "Steve?"

At the sound of the older boy's name, Darren sat up. He looked at his one-time best friend, and his face paled. "Steve…"

"What the fuck are you doing?" he shouted again, not caring about his volume. He was hurt, he was surprised, he was pissed, and he was going to kill the both of them.

"Steve, I can explain," Michaela said swiftly. At the same exact moment, Darren began, "Look, it's not what it seems like—"

"Does she know? Did you tell her?" Steve demanded angrily. "Was she in on it from the start?"

Darren looked at Steve and said slowly, "She knows. I told her. She didn't know until she saw me one day though— it was an accident. She isn't—"

"She's one of you, isn't she?"

"I would never change her. Not in a million years," Darren swore. "I could never put her through that."

Steve took a step closer to them and demanded, "Get out of the bed. Now." When they didn't move, he screamed, "NOW!"

At that moment, Michaela's older brother barged into the room. "What the fuck is all the yelling about!" He saw Michaela in bed with Darren, with Steve standing next to it, and said, "Fuck. You. You are exactly like your fucking mother. And I'm going to fucking KILL YOU."

About a half an hour later, Michaela looked up to see that Darren was back. She'd been sitting against the wall of their high school, trying to hold in all of her emotions. Immediately after the death threat Steve had told the two of them to leave— and Michaela sure as hell wasn't going to refuse such a great offer. She'd grabbed Darren and sprinted the hell out of there. They'd run until they'd reached the high school, at which point Darren had told her to wait there. She had sat there for a half an hour, just mulling over what had happened and wallowing in her emotions. It was a shitty half an hour, and she hadn't even had Darren there to hold her.

He was back now, though. He approached her hesitantly; he was unsure of what he would be coming into. He was soaked from head to toe— it had begun to rain a few minutes after the pair had separated. He stood in front of her for a moment before saying awkwardly, "Hi."

She looked up at him and inquired, "What took so long?"

"I had to find the guy I'm traveling with…"

"You're traveling with somebody?" When he gave her a barely perceptible nod, she demanded, "Why haven't I met him?"

Darren sighed and offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. "He's a bit of a hard-ass. Insanely old-fashioned. Doesn't really like kids."

"I can handle it."

"Whether you can or can't, you're gonna have to," he muttered begrudgingly, then proceeded to pull her alongside him. They walked side by side for about ten minutes— or, rather, Darren walked and Michaela jogged— until they reached the cemetery. They stopped walking alongside its gates when Michaela saw the willow tree and stopped short. Darren looked back at her with a cocked eyebrow, but she shook her head adamantly. "Come on," he pleaded.

"I can't," she swore, looking at the willow tree. Memories of Johnny flashed behind her eyes, each one bringing an onslaught of pain and the threat of tears.

"I'm here," he whispered to her. "Nothing can hurt you while I'm with you. I won't let it. I promise."

"I'm sorry," she responded apologetically. "I'm being stupid, I guess. It's just that… that I… when I was there I… I almost got…"

Darren sensed the oncoming tears and enveloped her into a hug. "Shh. You don't have to tell me now. You can explain later if you want, when it doesn't hurt so much." He grabbed her hand again and said softly, "I swear to you, Michaela, that nothing but I will touch you unless you give your consent. I will personally rip apart anything that comes near you." He raised their intertwined hands and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, smiling as he did so.

"I love you," she said softly. She couldn't imagine her life without him. Well, actually, she could; she'd lived it. But she almost didn't know how much she missed him until he came back.

"I love you too, Mikey." He gazed into her eyes and added, "And you trust me, don't you?"

She hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Let's go…"

He led her across the length of the fence, noting how she held her breath while passing the willow tree. When her eyes closed out of fear, he draped his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. She hugged him around his waist, pressing her face into his chest, and continued walking.

She didn't open her eyes until she felt Darren stop. The moment their movement ceased, her lids rose and she glanced around. They were standing on Darren's grave. "Why are we here, Dare?"

"He'll be here," Darren promised. And sure enough, a man appeared before them a moment or so later. He had moved with an incredible speed, and the air he left in his wake whipped Michaela's hair so that her wet locks hit her face. She brushed them away swiftly and squinted at the man. It was dark out due to the late hour, and the falling rain further obscured her vision, but the figure looked familiar…

"Darren, what is this?" he asked, seemingly annoyed.

"Mikey, this is Mr. Crepsley. Mr. Crepsley, this is Michaela."

"Michaela?" Mr. Crepsley asked softly. At the same moment, Michaela shouted, "Larten!" and threw herself into his arms.

Darren raised an eyebrow at the two— he knew that they had met before, but he had had no idea that they were so close. Crepsley rarely ever showed sign of emotion.

"Darren! Why didn't you tell me that you were traveling with Larten?" Michaela exclaimed.

"I didn't know you remembered him," Darren admitted.

Michaela looked up at the scarred face of her savior and inquired, "He's kind of unforgettable."

"Why was I unaware that your days were being spent with your former best friend? That is some information that I, her makeshift father figure, would have cared to know."

Darren's face turned a shade of red that could be seen even through the dark and falling drops of water. "It isn't like that, Mr. Crepsley."

Mr. Crepsley rolled his eyes, not really caring about Darren's excuses. Instead of dignifying his denial with a response, he changed the subject. "Might I ask why you brought her to me?"

"When we were asleep—" Darren caught the look Crepsley was giving him and stopped talking while he blushed even further, but forced himself to go on after a moment. "When we were asleep, Steve came in. He got the wrong idea; started yelling… it woke up Mikey's brother. He said he was going to kill Mikey, so…"

"And how do you expect me to assist with your problems? Are you planning on bringing her along with us?"

"I really didn't think it out past getting her away from there," Darren mumbled, embarrassed by his lack of thought and impulsive actions.

"In that case, you are lucky that you happened to have chosen a child whom I am fond of," Mr. Crepsley said, smiling down at the girl in his arms.

Steve watched Darren and Michaela escape the room before turning and growling at Joshua. All homicidal thoughts that he'd had towards the new couple—well, Michaela, anyways; he still hated Darren— had dissipated when her old brother threatened her. Steve had only met the guy once or twice, but nobody threatened Michaela and got away with it. "What did you say, man?"

"I said that your bitch of a girlfriend is a dirty fucking whore, and the second I see her again I'm going to fucking kill her."

"That's what I thought you said," Steve responded before taking his nails and slashing them across the man's face as hard as he could.

Joshua collapsed on the floor in a ball of pain. He held the side of his face, his mouth in a wide 'o'. Steve's nails had gone straight through his cheek, leaving four gaping holes in his face. "What the fu—"

Steve kicked Joshua in the abdomen, hearing the satisfying sounds of breaking ribs and the whoosh of air leaving the man's lungs. Steve had no intentions of killing the man— at least, not before torturing him as much as possible. He grabbed his ex's older brother's arm and yanked him to his feet, dislocating his shoulder by accident as he did so. Steve grabbed Joshua's leg out from under him so that he was hopping on one foot, then twisted his foot all the way to the side in order to break his ankle. He raised the leg higher and higher so that the man it was connected to fell onto the ground. He immediately curled into himself, whimpering pathetically.

He bent down to eye level with his victim and let a small smile escape his lips. "How ya feeling, Joshy? Not too great, huh? Well, don't worry. I'm gonna make it all better…"

The last thing Joshua Freiland ever saw was a large black boot coming towards his face.

Author's Note: I don't think that was too-too graphic, was it? I just figured I might as well warn you, because there's always that one person who whines about how something corrupted their youth or whatever. Bahdeedahh.

Review, puh-leasee?(: