A/N: Again huge thanks to my Beta Churchlady63 and Penpractice for their amazing help and being available everyday for my crazy ideas and thought about my ficitonal boys.

A Dark Place - Chapter 9 - No Distraction

BASTIAN

He watched Mike for a while as they rode. He seemed grumpy. Bastian was not surprised that Campbell had forgotten about their departure. Already yesterday he had the impression that Mike wasn't really listening when Wade laid out the plans he had implemented for the case. Bastian spurred his horse to his brother's side. Mike gave him a side glance but said nothing.

"I hope you don't mind that I packed for you. Wade was pretty pissed that you weren't at home since he had made clear that he wanted to leave early to make a few miles."

"Hm. Found any dark secrets?" Mike teased.

"Well that depends."

"Just get it over with. You think I'm drinking too much."

Bastian was not sure if he should answer that honestly. But yes, he was concerned about exactly that. At least Mike felt uncomfortable about it. He could tell by his annoyed eye roll. "I'm just worried about you. I'm glad we have the opportunity for a journey. A change might be good for you."

"Good for me?" Mike pulled at Wotan's reins. Bastian did the same. His friend angrily stared at him now. Maybe he hadn't found the best words for offering his help. Mike raised his voice and went on with his ranting. "Like George thought it good for me to come to the Beltane even though I didn't want to go? Or Wade thought it good for me to be his best man at his wedding even though I begged him to pick you. I'll tell you what would be good for me right now. If you hadn't robbed me of my whiskey. Or maybe if you all finally minded for your own business rather than messing with mine."

Bastian just looked back, searching for words. He didn't know that Mike felt like this and he certainly hadn't expected such an outburst. Before Bastian had a chance to say anything, Mike made a defensive grunt and spurred Wotan on to leave him behind.

He swallowed hard, watching Campbell riding ahead past Wade and George. The two turned to Bastian with a questioning look, stopping their mounts to hear what was wrong.

*** EST OT ***

MIKE

Mike stopped at the second bend where the creek serpentined down a small, hidden valley off the path and led Wotan down to the water. Sometimes he wished the others would just leave him alone instead of dragging him along like a useless limb.

Mike stood next to Wotan and watched him drinking. His thoughts were dark; he felt them hurting him the second he thought them. It felt like a disease spreading through his heart. Damnadh! Bastian was right. Mike knew - he knew the bottle was not his friend, at least not if filled with booze. Clara's words came to mind when he had been at Rutherford's after the Shapeshifter hunt.

"I'm so sorry that you are hurting this bad. But this," she held the empty bottle up in front of him. "is not the way to deal with it. …

… this will only eat up your soul. You are too precious to let this happen to you. Wade needs you ..."

But to know something and to admit it are two completely different things.

Hiding his face with his hands he felt the shaking again. He didn't want to be a burden to his Triad. God damn it, he was The Knight! He had a responsibility. Wade counted on him. Clara counted on him. Besides that he would never forgive himself, Clara would never forgive him if he let anything happen to Wade because he was drunk. He needed to get back on his feet. He needed to be sharp and clear, not dazed and distracted.

He pulled his flask from his inside pocket and bent to the creek, filling it with clear water. Moments later he heard his friends behind him leading their horses down to the water too.

Bastian said nothing to him about earlier, though he felt the tension between them. He had to talk to him, but at the moment he was too desperate and terrified himself.

*** EST OT ***

MIKE

They found a nice place to stay the night, and even the weather had graced them with the warm autumn sun all day so that the earth still radiated a bit of warmth. George was immersed in a book he had from his mother and discussed the triad magic with Wade.

Bastian and Mike cared for the campfire and would have the first watch together until after midnight.

Mike poked in the embers and tried to find the right words to start his apology. It took him so long, Bastian began talking.

"I didn't mean to make it more difficult for you. I'm sorry. Are we alright, Mike?"

He looked up, ruefully. Bastian was the last one who had to apologize. "You did nothing wrong, brother. I was just pissed. I have to apologize."

"Nah, never mind. I'm not so easy to get rid of. So you are not angry with me for cleaning out your stock?"

"No, as long as you didn't throw away the full bottles," Mike tried to lighten the tension with a teasing.

Bastian looked uncomfortable at him. "Uhm, there was only one half full bottle. The rest were empty."

Mike frowned. He had been sure there must have been at least two full bottles but he wouldn't swear on it. Had he drunk so much?" He rubbed his temple, trying to remember right and felt his hand shaking again.

Bastian grabbed his hand and held it. "Mike, is there anything I can do to help?"

Mike was confused when he answered. "I … I don't know. Maybe you were right to clean under my bed."

"Yeah, I think so too. If you need anything or want to talk, I'm here for you. I always will be, brother."

"I know." Mike paused, rubbing his forehead and trying to focus on the task at hand. He hadn't really listened much yesterday evening about the details of the hunt and tried now to remember the bits and pieces he had paid attention to. "Maybe you could start by telling me again about our case. Um, we're heading to Trenton because Randy is missing, right? What else is there to know about the town?"

His friend quickly gave him the details about the city. "The city has about 2000* inhabitants, and was officially the capital, though only for two months at the end of 1784," Bastian started. He had a habit of digging up and sharing random facts as well as things relevant to the hunt. "Did you know that before the official reading at Independence Hall in PHlhiladelphia, the Declaration of Independence had its first public reading in Trenton?" Mike rolled his hand to indicate Bastian should move on the relevant stuff but a small affectionate smile accompanied the gesture. "Butch and Randy are our only hunters in the area, other than that we've no one closer than Richardson in NYC, well since Rutherford retired. Which makes us the backup call even if they didn't want some heavy hitters."

Mike nodded, "Yeah, I can understand why they didn't ask Richardson for help." Mike paused for a moment before he asked, "And about the case?"

Bastian quirked a brow. "You didn't listen to Wade at all yesterday, did you?"

Mike shot him an apologizing look. That made Bastian sigh. "Well, as you know, Butch Pike sent a message. He has five missing people. One has been found dead with a missing heart, another died from blood loss. He and his brother Randy thought first they had a vampire problem but then they thought it might be some ghouls until they found a clue that it is the same monster. Whatever it is, it is not alone. Seems to be some kind of nest since the people got missing all in two nights. He asked for help after his brother got captured as they investigated two suspects. He asked for help to kill the creatures and find his body to give him a proper funeral."

Mike nodded sadly. "Aye, Randy. I remember that from yesterday. He is Butch's little brother. I introduced the two to hunting a few years back." Mike was painfully reminded of how he had found Finn's desecrated body. "Is he sure he is dead? I mean we don't know much about the enemy."

"I don't know. We've seen enough. Maybe there is a tiny chance to save him."

Mike didn't even want to imagine how Butch felt. He had to distract himself from the fact that probably another of their hunters was dead. "Why does Butch think it is not a vampire nest? I mean they are assholes. I wouldn't wonder if they would collect hearts for some sick blood heart pie."

Bastian gave him a distasteful look. "A blood heart pie? Ugh. Mike…. I don't even want to ask. I heard quite a thing about Haggis and another thing called Shepherd's Pie which is made of balls. How can anyone eat that?"

Mike chuckled. "Oh , I miss proper food that'll put hair on your chest."

His friend swallowed hard and tried to change the topic.

"Well, about your other question; Butch wrote he is sure they are not vampires, he cut the head off of one and watched the thing putting it back on the body. He said he had never seen anything like that."

"I prefer things that stay dead after cutting the head off. I hope I haven't made us too late to save Randy." Mike swallowed hard. He already felt guilty. Because of his delay this morning they would probably arrive hours later or even a full day.

Bastian put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't carry the weight of Randy on your shoulders. It is not your fault. As I said, there is only a tiny chance that he is even alive."

Mike nodded, barely noticeably, and added another log to the fire, watching it flare up again. He scolded himself. He could have prepared better if he had listened more carefully yesterday.

Bastian took a branch and corrected the position of the log onto the embers. Mike rolled his eyes but didn't grumble at the 'correction'. His friend always had control issues. A weak grin came to his lips. At least that was one thing that he could foresee.

*** EST OT ***

MIKE

Mike woke up with a start. His breathing came unsteady and his shirt was soaked from sweat.

He'd just found Wade's body - his chest a gaping hole where his heart should be. He glanced to the side where Bastian slept peacefully, then to the fire where he heard Wade and George talking quietly, but antagonistically with each other.

Everything was normal. Wade and George often had little fights. He needed to calm down. "It was just a nightmare," he whispered to reassure himself that it had just been a crazy construct of his fantasy.

No one had noticed he was awake. He brought his unsteadily shaking hand to his eyes, rubbing them to try to get fully awake.

He couldn't get rid of the shaky feeling. He knew a bit of whiskey would help. Maybe George had something with him. A glance at his friend's pack made him feel bad. This was embarrassing. He was stronger than that. He would not start begging George for a drink. Mike grabbed for his own flask and eagerly drank half the water in it. He must've been too loud because Wade strode to him with urgent steps, snatching the flask from his hands.

"What do you think we are doing? This is not one of your bar crawls, Campbell! Can you at least stop drinking while we are on a hunt?"

Mike, still not entirely released from the grip of the nightmare, just stared back, frightened, like a child who had been smacked in the face.

Bastian's voice came from the side. "Wade, what's wrong?"

Wade was pissed and didn't even try to lower his voice. "You were right. We have a problem with our Knight." The Guardian lifted the flask accusingly while answering his Scholar. "Mike has nothing better to do than drink when he thinks we're not looking. At least he thought so."

Though he hadn't done anything wrong at the moment, Mike felt terribly exposed and weak.

Bastian got up quickly, snatching the flask from Wade's hand. "Wade, don't. There is only water in it. I saw him filling it earlier.

Mike jumped up and fled away from the others. He couldn't listen to them discussing his state of addiction anymore, while he was right in front of them. That Bastian had already talked to Wade about him, hurt more than Wade's heated accusations. He ran without direction; he just needed a bit of space.

"Mike!" Bastian tried to stop him, but he didn't want to talk.

WADE

The Scholar turned to Wade instead. "Are you out of your mind? That wasn't helpful at all, even if he had whiskey in there!" Bastian scolded him.

Wade felt like an idiot. Smelling the contents of Mike's flask he confirmed it was only water. What had he done?! George and he had been heatedly discussing his ways of leading the Brotherhood. None of the other hunters had balls enough to tell him what they really thought. So his three friends were his eyes and ears within their ranks.

Some had told George that the presence of the Guardian was more needed among them. But how the hell should he do that? He had to care for the whole Wilmington farm now. He had just lost his father and would have a child soon. The money the Brotherhood needed had to come from somewhere. Sure he was wealthy, and Rutherford too had taken care that the Brotherhood was well stocked with money. But he could hardly split into pieces and be everywhere at once.

Already enraged by his discussion with his advisor, a movement had caught his attention and he'd glanced over to see Mike with his flask - his second in command, his brother and best friend. Sure Bastian's words had concerned him. They could not afford a Knight with a drinking problem on top of his trauma of imprisonment and a broken heart. Seeing him drinking so eagerly made him explode. In the end he had probably made it worse.

Letting out a sigh, he massaged his temples with his free hand. "Fuck! I didn't mean to … fuck!"

Bastian shook his head, frustrated. "You better find him. You two need to talk this out. We need everyone focused on this hunt. We don't even know what kind of monster Butch found. Besides, it would be better for all of us if we are not at odds with each other in front of other members."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Wade said, then he hurried to follow Mike through the dark. "Mike! Wait, please."

He could barely see his hands before his eyes as he fought his way through the undergrowth of the nearby grove. Mike couldn't have gone far in this difficult terrain. "Mike, I'm sorry. C'mon, where are you?" Wade shouted. He heard a sniff and turned to his right. A white spot caught his attention not far away. He came closer, now sure it was Mike's shirt he had made out in the dark. "Mike," he sighed, squatting down across from his friend.

The Knight was sitting on the ground with his knees tucked up and his face hidden. Wade carefully took his hand. "Mike, …" Wade got concerned as he felt his friend's clammy skin.

Mike shifted a bit. Wade couldn't see his face but he heard the tremble in his voice. "I'm sorry, Wade … I know that you have other things to worry about, I shouldn't add to your load. I try to stop, I really try…" another sniff. "… but it's so hard."

"Shh, I'm sorry, brother. It wasn't fair of me to be so harsh. Let's talk, okay? Just tell me if I can do anything to help," Wade said, pulling Mike into his arms. He felt his friend's shoulders shake under silent sobs. He waited until Mike had calmed a bit. While holding him he felt that Mike's shirt was damp too. "Let's go back to the fire first, okay? You need to warm up. Why are your clothes damp anyway?"

Mike wiped his sleeve over his eyes. "I … uhm, had a nightmare." Mike got up but didn't move.

Wade brought an arm around him and guided him back to their camp. "Come. It's alright, we'll find a way."

*** EST OT ***

MIKE

They all could promise him as much as they wanted to help him. The main work was totally on Mike. Though he knew he needed his friends' support, he also knew that he was not strong enough for this and that knowledge drove him insane. He tried to lock the problem into the darkest corner of his mind. He needed to push through this, at least until after the hunt. If Randy was still alive, they had no time to worry about his broken state of mind and heart.

Mike sat by the fire in a dry shirt that Wade had given him and tried to warm up a bit while watching Wade heating water for a strong coffee. George had seen them coming back and decided to get some shuteye next to Bastian. They still had a long ride ahead and would be leaving soon enough.

Staring into the flames, Mike tried not to think of the horrible images his mind had created in his nightmare. He had to be extra watchful on this hunt. Wade was getting home in one piece even if it was the last thing Mike would do.

"Here." Wade held out a cup with steaming hot coffee, ripping him out of his brooding.

Mike gladly took it and sipped carefully, feeling the warmth spreading through his chest. He welcomed the feeling with a pleased sigh. It felt good, it felt alive. He needed to find this warmth again. Thinking back to the last night he'd spent in the Cedar Wood, he knew he had to let Diana go. He shouldn't have written her that letter. It had been wrong. It would only make it harder for her. She'd let him go when she'd thought him to be dead. Diana had looked forward, she had found another man, maybe he'd misinterpreted the situation at the wedding and she was even happy. God, the two had a child. He could not just show up and destroy her life. He sighed to keep the tears of desperation at bay. It had been wrong to play tricks on his mind with alcohol and a roleplay. It had hurt only brought him more pain. He blamed his own cruel game for his state today.

"You wanna tell me about that nightmare? It seems it still has a grip on you, brother," Wade stated.

Wade was right, he still felt shaky about the dream. "I was on a hunt and walked into a room. There was a body on the ground. When I got closer, I turned it over and it was you."

Wade chuckled. "Should I be worried that it was wishful thinking? I must confess, it's a blunt way to tell your brother you are angry with him, telling him you dreamt of his death."

"I'm not mad at you," Mike still saw the gruesome picture before him. Of course it was easy to put one and one together. It had been the same setting as how he'd found Finn in New York. Add in the intel Bastian had given about the case, and it was enough to bring back the guilt he'd felt then. "Your heart was ripped out… I … couldn't save Finn, I've delayed us getting to Randy, and I don't want us to lose more hunters," he forced himself to meet Wade's eye, "especially not our leader and my best friend."

Wade came closer, taking a seat on the log next to him with his own steaming cup of coffee. "I'm glad you never showed any ability of foresight, or I'd be worried now. What happened to your trust in the Lord? You were always the one to tell me He had a plan. If that's the case, you shouldn't worry so much. Just send up a prayer to above that we'll be able to find that fucker and send his ass to hell." The Guardian put a hand on Mike's shoulder, searching his blue eyes until his friend met his own. "We will not lose any more brothers. I promise."

"You can not promise that." But Wade was right. He hadn't prayed for quite some time and hadn't been to mass for even longer. The whole fiasco at the wedding had kicked him so far off his path that he now walked in a dark place hazed with too much whiskey - without any guidance - without any comfort - without the Lord.

Wade went on. "Well, at least I can tell you Clara made me promise to come back to her unharmed, and she always gets what she wants." He patted Mike on his shoulder and got up. "Don't worry about that dream. It was nothing. So, as cozy as it is to sit by the fire with you, Brother, we better get back in the saddle." Straightening his clothes, Wade put his vest and jacket on and began to clear their camp. "You warmed up enough? Get dressed and put the fire out. There is enough coffee for the others. I'll go and wake them."

*** EST OT ***

BASTIAN

Mike had been even more silent since that night. But Bastian was pleased to see him visiting the Catholic church in New York city when they got settled at Richardson's to stay the night.

His friend hadn't been to mass for weeks. Every Saturday Mike went out, not returning until the 'wee hours' of Sunday. So Bastian hadn't even asked him if he wanted to go.

If Mike felt better afterward, he didn't let on, at least their Knight stayed with Wade and Richardson to research the case. Maybe Richardson had seen something similar here in NYC. A lot of things happened in the city and the police captain was a really good source to get information about the crimes in the area.

Without much news they got settled in, all exhausted after the hard ride. The insides of Bastian's thighs hurt so badly, he almost couldn't endure the fabric of his pants chafing against his aching flesh. Something was wrong with his saddle. He should take the time and get up early tomorrow to upholster it a bit. He had flipped through a book called 'Upholstery' not long ago which had a section about saddles. He was sure there had been some useful knowledge to help him endure the next day's ride.

Mike entered the room they shared, just as he was about to inspect the reddened spot on his thigh with lowered pants.

The Knight chuckled amused. "Wow, friend, that doesn't look good. What did the horse do to you?" Mike said with a wink.

To see Mike smile about something made him play along with their old foolish banter about the similar sound of the two words. "The whores did nothing to me, it was my damn saddle."

Mike went to his pack and checked the smaller pouch, what his brothers teasingly referred to as his 'beauty bag', which usually contained his razorblade, soap, and other small useful things that otherwise would get lost in his pack. He pulled out a small jar, offering it to Bastian. "Here, a girl from the saloon where I stayed last time in NYC gave it to me. It's Calendula balm. She said it helps against small wounds as well as smoothing hurting scars. Try some. You don't need much."

Bastian eyed the jar Mike still held in his hands, thinking about the small things Mike had said unintentionally between the lines, he didn't take it instantly. The mention of scars, saloons, and girls made him careful. Obviously he brooded too long and Mike went on with making fun of him.

"You don't expect me to apply it on this delicate spot of yours, do you?" Mike placed the jar on the nightstand and turned to get ready for bed himself.

Bastian couldn't hide a lopsided grin and used the balm. The burning lessened instantly and he sighed with relief. He remembered George used a balm sometimes on their injuries. They should all have some in their hunter's equipment in the future.

Grateful to finally rest, the Scholar closed his eyes to sleep and let the day pass in his mind. Tomorrow they'd leave NYC for the last part of the trip to Trenton. Wade wanted to do the 60 miles ride in one day. He already saw his thigh bleeding if he didn't find a way to modify his saddle. Anyway, he desperately clung to the tiny hope they could save Randy. Though nearly every hunter they knew had a bad history that brought them to the Brotherhood, that didn't mean hunting should make it even worse. Losing a brother was one of the worst things Bastian could imagine. He remembered precisely the hurt he had felt when they had gotten that message of Mike's death by a letter from the front. There was an initial blast, the sort that you shouldn't survive but somehow did, followed by days, weeks, months, of bleeding out slowly. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. So he would willingly pay with a bit of pain if they had a chance to save one of their own.

*** EST OT ***

Trenton, New Jersey

RANDY

He felt weak and foggy while he tried to figure out where he was and if he still was human.

Someone had hit him with a bat or something heavy and the last thing he saw was Laura, coming closer, telling him to let her take a look. Then he felt her digging her fangs deep into his neck. To his surprise there was no pain but an instant feeling of numbness, like he had a real good evening in a pub with loads of ale and gin, that increased every second. Only the sucking, smacking sound the girl made while feeding on him, told him he was far from drunk, but a victim of some vampire bitch. Then she suddenly stopped. Butch shouted his name but someone dragged his unresponding body away from his brother's voice.

The fighting noises stopped and he feared his brother might have ended the same way. But he was not dead yet. Randy would fight the enemy until his last breath. How? Well, that was the question of the hour. He wasn't even able to lift his pinky. He felt so tired and heavy that he wasn't able to stay conscious any longer.

Now he finally was awake and everything hurt this time. Glancing around, he found himself in some kind of mine. The air smelled moldy and the walls were of stone and planks. A lantern hung on a pillar of the narrow corridor. Both his hands and feet were tied to another pole. Still feeling the heaviness and exhaustion in his bones, he tried to move a bit.

Why was he alive? Was there maybe a chance to save the other victims? They had found two bodies with their hearts ripped. There were others that were just missing, no sign of their whereabouts. The only hint they had was the link to Laura and her father who had moved to town right before the people started to disappear.

Butch, his older brother, and he had ridden outside of town to pay them a visit and check if they were the ones they were after. He confirmed that Laura was not a werewolf, his silver ring would have caused at least a hiss when he shook her hand. She was also not a demon, for the mumbling of 'Christo' had no effect. To see a crucifix in the tiny room of the house made him believe they were also not vampires. So what were they? Were they even to blame for the murders and missing people?

Laura was a beauty and had an aura of trust. Butch always warned him against trusting women. Countless times he was so blinded by love or lust that he wanted to marry one of the ladies they'd met on their journeys across the land. If Butch wasn't looking out for him he'd probably have already been shot by a jealous lover or husband. He really should start listening to his brother.

There was a noise and steps coming closer. She was still beautiful but he would never trust her again. Laura held the lantern higher to look at him. "Good morning, sweetheart. Maybe I should snatch a last drop of your sweet blood before we won't have the chance anymore. You tasted so good."

Remembering the bite made him feel weak and submissieve - no he couldn't feel that way. He was a hunter for God's sake! He destroyed monsters like her. Randy's heart sped up, desperate for what to do. Butch would not be so weak.

Butch. Was his brother dead or captured too? "Where is my brother?"

"Don't worry about that barbarian. You'll soon have a new family," Laura said with a bright smile on her lips.

A dark shape of a man appeared behind her right before she wanted to feed on him again. She stopped and got up, waiting for the man's next orders.

"Thank you my dear, I'll take care of our new family member. Go and check on our other guests."

She nodded and followed his orders like a good soldier.

When he was alone with the man everything in him screamed to run.

"You can count yourself lucky. Laura begged me to make you one of us. She likes you."

"I don't care what the bitch wants. You are not vampires. What are you?" Randy asked while fighting against his bindings.

The man chuckled unimpressed, letting him fumble with the rope that held him. "I don't call us anything. But others have given us quite a few names before we came over the ocean. Choose one, Nachzehrer, Undead, Wiederkehrer. We are not vampires as some think. We don't lose our heads as easily as them." Leon laughed over his joke. "People have come up with quite a few tales about my kin. But I can assure you that contrary to the lore, we're not lying in our coffin chewing on our shroud or arm to drain people of their life energy. For my part I prefer the heart, but Laura is more the blood type. I'm curious what you will be like. For now you can call me just Leon, or if it pleases you, Master. I don't mind, as long as you serve me."

Randy pulled harder on the rope, his wrists already slick from his blood. "I will never serve you. My brother won't let that happen!"

"Oh, so it was your brother who cut Andre's head off. That was not nice of him. We should send him a message, don't you think? I answered your question, now you will answer mine. What are you? Usually people are not so cool minded when meeting one of us when not in ecstasy from the bite."

Randy got angry with this Leon. He had never heard of Nachzehrer or Wiederkehrer but Undead was at least something. "We are hunters and my brother will gladly cut your head off too, asshole."

"Hunters, huh? Well, well, this is gonna get quite interesting. I think Laura is right, and you will be a good asset to our family." Confidently, Leon came closer.

Randy tried to crawl as far away as possible, which wasn't much. When the guy's hands grabbed his scalp, he desperately tried to wrestle out of his hold. Leon was strong and bent his head back without effort. Randy closed his eyes and started praying for what he thought was his last chance to beg the lord to forgive him his sins. Then Leon bit him and it felt totally different than Laura's bite. Though it incapacitated him in the same way, rather than ecstasy, fire burned though his body, consuming his entire being, until nothing of himself was left.

TBC

*) I guessed the inhabitants of that time by census of New Jersey of 1810. If anyone has a more accurate number, feel free to tell me.

A/N: Follow the story or my author profile to get a not when I update or follow me on AO3 where I post simultanly under same pen name. Fanfiction somehow doesn't send E-Mails lately.