A/N: Apologies for the wait and the long chapter – promise to be more careful in the future. Please note that any words surrounded with " " indicate that the words are spoken in JAPANESE, not English. And for those that have been asking, YES, Noel is BISEXUAL.

Enjoy the chapter 3

"Alright, little man, final question."

Noel's words stoked a fire of determination within Pedro's eyes, the child staring at his elder intently.

The two witches had been sitting in the kitchens for almost two hours now, mulling over some fractions work from Pedro's math class. Each correct answer earned Pedro some hearty praise and a giant cookie; generously 'donated' by the Salvatore School's pantry.

Two fractions pages and three cookie boxes later, Pedro was well on his way to becoming a maths prodigy.

Turns out baked goods and sweets do wonders for Maths Anxiety.

But Noel digressed.

The witch slid three medium-sized cookies across the metal tabletop, tapping a black, polished fingernail on the open page. Of the forty practice questions they had gone through, only three remained.

"Your move, Pedro."

Noel smirked and folded his arms as Pedro looked at the page, his little nose scrunched and his eyes narrowed with focus.

So adorable. Noel thought warmly.

After a moment's pause, Pedro scribbled his answer into the book, holding it up to Noel with expectant eyes:

"3/1," Noel read aloud. "Equals 3. Correct."

Noel acknowledged the rightmost of the three cookies. Pedro quickly snatched it up into his hands and nibbled at it like a mouse with a cube of cheese.

"Next one." Noel instructed.

Pedro finished the cookie and looked down at the page, again taking a moment before answering:

"46/12," Noel read. "Becomes 23/6. And what sort of fraction are we left with?"

"An im-popper fraction." Pedro murmured, his feet swinging underneath his stool. "That's when the number on the top is bigger than the bottom one."

"Very good." Noel praised. "But remember, it's called an improper fraction, okay? Im. Prop. Er. Got it?"

Pedro nodded affirmatively as Noel handed him the second cookie, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as Pedro ate it within two bites.

And now, only one question remained:

"15/6," Noel smirked. "Think you can handle it, little man?"

"Yes!" Pedro pouted, folding his arms in a huff.

Noel laughed under his breath as Pedro wrote his final answer:

"15/6 becomes 2 and 3/6. Good."

Pedro's smile gleamed brighter than the Sun, the youth reaching for the last cookie...

...But Noel drew it back, wiggling a disapproving finger.

"...But not quite good enough."

Pedro raised his eyebrows, looking at Noel as if he had suffered the most unspeakable of betrayals. He glanced at the cookie, then to Noel, down at the page and then right back to Noel - his puppy-dog eyes in full-effect.

"Hey, don't look at me like that." Noel sighed. "The answer is right, but something's missing."

"What?" Pedro asked.

Noel chuckled. "You're supposed to figure that out on your own, silly. You wouldn't be learning if I tell you the answer."

He tapped the equation Pedro wrote with a pencil.

"Here's a hint," he said, circling the '3/6'. "It has something to do with this bit here."

Pedro stared at the page for a moment more until his eyes lit up with realisation and corrected his answer.

"15/6 = 2 3/6 = 2 1/2."

"Much better." Noel clapped, handing Pedro the last of the cookies. The elder took a moment to watch Pedro eat, a proud smile growing at the edge of his lips.

It made him happy to see Pedro like this, to see him confident and proud of his ability. He had known Pedro since the boy's first day at the Salvatore School. That friendly but intimidated child, too frightened of his own shadow to even contemplate something as genuinely frightening as magic.

But now, with the support of the Salvatore School staff, his peers (and in no small part to Noel's guidance), Pedro had become a standout student amongst the junior students.

Every smile Pedro smiled, every kid that he befriended and every teacher he amazed, always made Noel wonder, what if things had been as easy for him?

If he hadn't been born with fucked up magic.

If he hadn't been exiled from the coven.

If he hadn't been dumped at the school like a reeking sack of trash.

Noel grit his teeth.

...If he could control his magic. If the other students weren't scared of him. If his arms weren't covered in scars and burns.

Noel drew a sharp breath inward.

If he wasn't that 'skinny scarred kid'. If he had someone looking out for him that wasn't some teacher paid to give a damn about his problems. If Alyssa didn't make it her mission to turn the coven against him. If Jed and his pack didn't laugh and kick the shit out of him every time they met in the halls. If he had a friend in the world that wasn't a co-dependent siphoner. If he-

Noel stopped. He relaxed his jaw and wound up shoulders, releasing a shaky breath.

...No. That was the past. Something that was out of Noel's hands.

He couldn't just sit by and wallow, to wear his shame and past like some heavy, stifling cloak while other kids were being brought here.

Noel couldn't teach them magic, and he certainly couldn't shield them from the horrors of the supernatural community. But he would do his absolute damnedest to make sure that every one of them felt welcome and looked after. That they had a friend watching out for them, an elder to look to and, if need be, a shoulder to cry on.

Luxuries that Noel was never afforded when he was Pedro's age.

"...oel?"

Noel's broody thoughts came to a crashing halt as Pedro called out to him, the child looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"...Yeah, Pedro?" Noel asked, regaining his composure.

"It's all done." Pedro pointed at his homework.

"Oh...right, yeah." Noel cleared his throat. "Are you sure that's everything? Do you need to work on any other subjects you aren't sure about?"

Pedro shook his head. "No, that's all the homework the teacher gave us."

He gave Noel a toothy smile as he finished his cookie, licking the smudged bits of chocolate chip off his fingertips.

"You're a wayyy better at teaching than he is. And the other witches too."

Noel half-laughed as he packed up Pedro's textbook and worksheets. "You went to the other members of the coven for help?"

"Yeah, but they weren't very nice to me." Pedro frowned, looking down as he swung his feet. "They were too busy and kept saying that 'I should be hanging out with the other kids'..."

Noel rolled his eyes. Typical Salvatore Witches...

"I asked Alyssa 'cos she's super, duper smart and all, but she said she was 'too busy with her 'perfemm'."

"Perfume." Noel corrected him.

"And then I asked Wade, but he didn't know much about fractions. Then Cain, then Druscilla, Penelope and Lizzie-"

"Wait," Noel exclaimed. "You really asked Lizzie for help?"

Pedro nodded. "Yeah, but she said-"

"Don't ever listen to what Lizzie says, man." Noel sighed. "And never ask her to do anything for you. Unless it'll benefit her in some way, she won't do it."

Noel sighed, folding the last of the worksheets away.

"Trust me, Pedro, she can be a real bit-"

But Noel stopped himself before he could finish, reconsidering his words as Pedro stared at him innocently and intently.

"Uhhh," the witch stammered. "A...um..bi...big...big...meanie! Yeah, she can be a real big meanie!"

Noel mentally chastised himself for saying something so childish, a sentiment shared by Pedro, who looked at him with a frown.

"...She's not that mean." Pedro defended, angling his head.

Noel couldn't help but shake his head. Honestly, Pedro was too kind for his own good.

The witch tucked Pedro's books away into the boy's brown leather school-bag when suddenly, a folded piece of paper slipped from the textbook pages and onto the floor.

Huh?

Noel hopped off his seat to pick it up. It was a tri-folded sheet of plain paper, covered from top to bottom in neat, cursive writing.

Paper-clipped to the very top of the letter was a crinkled photograph; of a beautiful, curly-haired woman standing on a beach in a sundress with a small child in her arms:

'Pedro and Mama' the caption read. '2025.'

Noel couldn't help but smile. "Is this your mom?"

Pedro nodded bashfully, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire Cat.

"...Yeah. She and Daddy live really, really far away but she always sends me letters 'n pictures."

"That's nice of her," Noel smirked. His eyes wandered back to the photo, falling upon Pedro's mother.

There was something attractive about the picture, something that drew Noel in. Not Pedro's mother per se (Noel wouldn't dishonour Pedro like that) but the feeling about her. The joy on her face, that bright, guileless smile and the gentle strength radiating from her as she held the infant Pedro in her slender, sun-kissed arms.

So much emotion. Warmth. Happiness. Love. Was this how mothers felt around their children?

"Do you get letters from your mama too, Noel?"

Pedro's words caught Noel off-guard and struck like a hot blade to the elder's heart.

"...No, little man." Noel murmured. "Not me."

Noel ignored Pedro's confused expression and looked back to the photo, staring at the smiling woman a moment more. But the longer he looked, the sooner Noel felt the warmth in his heart dissipate; replaced by a nauseating, twisted knot in his stomach.

Within moments, his eyes were overcome with a stinging sensation and tears threatened to fall; an emotional shift that Noel tried (and failed) to hide.

"Are you okay, Noel?" Pedro asked, shirking back in his chair.

Noel snapped out of his daze.

"Um, y-yeah." the witch lied, clearing his throat. "Just...um...hayfever, allergies and stuff."

Pedro opened his mouth to ask another question, but Noel quickly stood up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You're very lucky to get letters like this, Pedro. Make sure you look after them, okay?"

Noel folded the photo back up within the letter and slid it back into Pedro's textbook, touselling the boy's curly hair.

"C'mon," he encouraged. "Let's get you outta here, huh?"

Pedro nodded emphatically as he hopped off his stool, putting on his backpack as he followed Noel outside. The two witches left the kitchens and crossed the corridors into the hallway, exchanging little conversation until they reached the stairwell to the Junior Student Dorms:

"Now, remember the story we agreed on," Noel began, stopping Pedro as they arrived at the stairs. "What was the reason that you skipped class?"

"...Because I wasn't feeling well." Pedro answered, fiddling with a loose, yellow thread on his shirt.

"Right." Noel nodded. "And who will vouch for you?"

"You will," Pedro said. "Because you saw me being sick near Dr Saltzman's office."

"...And?"

"And I hafta fake a tummy ache to make them think I'm telling the truth."

"...Which shouldn't be too hard with all those cookies you ate." Noel chuckled. "You okay from here?"

Pedro nodded reluctantly, his eyes glazed over with unease.

Noel didn't like putting Pedro in this position either. But regardless of the reasons and who he was with, the fact remained that Pedro had skipped class; something no amount of finished fractions work would ever overturn.

Jesus, even supernatural school teachers were hardasses...

"If you run into any more problems," Noel smiled. "Homework or otherwise, you come find me, and I'll help you out, okay?"

Pedro beamed, the anxiety on his face melting away as he threw his arms around Noel's waist - pulling the witch into an embarrassed hug.

"Okay, okay," Noel laughed, pulling himself away. "Don't get all emotional on me..."

Looking away, Pedro adjusted his backpack and ran up the stairs, disappearing in a chorale of footfalls and childish laughter.

And the second Pedro was out of sight, Noel slumped forward against the bannister, heaving a heavy sigh.

The witch stood there for a moment, lightly banging his head against the backs of his hands.

What the hell was he doing? What was he trying to achieve, an outcast like him trying to give Pedro life advice? To teach him about being a good student and son?

Pedro's question rung hauntingly in his mind, like church bells.

Do you get letters from your mama too, Noel?

Of course not. Noel answered the question coldly in his mind.

He finally lifted his head, marching down the hall and forcing a scowl as he wiped his damp eyelids.

...Not unless they start sending letters from the afterlife.

ELSEWHERE...

The dry heat of the fireplace rolled over Rokubi in waves of marigold light, the elder sinking into his high-backed ebony chair.

It had been almost half a day since his meeting with Dr Greasley at Triad Industries. The arrangement had cost him millions of dollars; an agreeable loss were it not for the hours of patience taken along with it.

Rokubi grumbled under his breath, nursing a glass of lukewarm sake against the folds of his dressing gown.

But sooner or later, the tiresome day must kowtow to the quiet respite of the night. And a secluded manor in the middle of the New York State Forest was as 'quiet' as it could get.

"Any more news, Ichiro?" Rokubi asked the man at his side.

"No further news, Rokubi-sama," Inkune answered. He stood firmly by Rokubi's chair, the man's lean frame casting a long shadow over the ornate Shinto artworks adorning the stone walls around them. "So far, the only progress we have been able to make is ascertaining that our quarry is not within any northern states. In addition to the other dead-ends, we have now eliminated the states of Minnesota, South Dakota, Illinois and Wisconsin from our lists."

Rokubi leaned back into his chair as a low cracking sound reverberated in the air. Inkune couldn't tell if the sound came from master's chair or his knuckles tightening on his cane.

"...Send for the witch." the old man ordered.

Inkune's frame stiffened.

"Rokubi-sama," he cleared his throat. "It was a long journey to this manor from Georgia state. And it has been a long day. Perhaps it would be best if you retired for the eve- ."

"I am old, Ichiro." Rokubi spat. "Not decrepit. Bring the witch in here, now."

Inkune drew a sharp breath and faced the study entryway. "Enter!"

The study doors parted immediately, a balding man in a snowy-white yukata hurrying in.

"R-Rokubi-sama." the man bowed, patting away the sweat from his rosy cheeks. "What is it that you need?"

"Commence the ritual," Rokubi ordered. "Summon *them* here."

The witch raised his head. Enough that Inkune noticed the gesture but not so much that their eyes met. "H-How many of them, my Lord?"

"All of them." Rokubi snarled. "Every single one in this wretched country. We must regroup and change our tactics if we are to find our quarry."

The witch swallowed, bowing his head anxiously. Averting his eyes, the man hurried towards the fireplace, a hearth of black marble inlaid with gold kintsugi and took down a single mask from the mantel.

Studying the mask closely, the witch reached into the sleeve of his yukata and produced a gold, ceremonial knife.

"With your permission, Rokubi-sama?"

Rokubi pursed his lips. Putting down his glass of sake, the old man rolled back the sleeve of his dressing-gown, baring his naked forearm to the witch.

The witch took a step forward, his gilded blade gleaming in the light. But Inkune moved with him, catching the witch's sleeve with a stern grip.

"...Not too much." the aide warned.

The witch nodded as he drew the blade down Rokubi's arm, the crimson blood almost black against Rokubi's fair skin. Gathering enough blood to coat the edge of the blade, the witch set the mask on the floor and held the knife to his chest.

"...六美卿の血であなたを召喚します" he incanted, flicking the knife blade towards the mask.

The spell took effect immediately.

The second that the droplets of blood met the floor, the mask's vacant eyes lit up; the floorboards rattling restlessly.

"...六美卿の血であ." the witch continued, flicking more blood onto the mask. "...なたを召喚します."

By now, the whole manor was shaking; every floorboard, decorative wall and wooden panel heaving and groaning in all directions.

But despite the chaos, Rokubi sat firmly in his chair, his eyes oozing with spite as he perused the folder Inkune gave him on the helicopter.

"We will find her, Rokubi-sama." Inkune encouraged. "It is only a matter of time before she suffers for her transgressions."

"'Suffers', Ichiro?" Rokubi sneered. "Oh no, she will beg for suffering..."

The older man stood up, ignoring the witch's chants and the quaking walls around him as he tossed the manila folder into the fire but kept a grip on the photograph within it.

The 'woman'. The image of her soft, fair-skinned face and dirty-blonde curls burned Rokubi's eyes as if the elder were staring into the face of the sun.

And it sickened him.

"I will find her, Ichiro. Even if I have to raze the entire country to do it..."

Rokubi closed his fist, crumpling the photo between his wrinkled fingers.

"...And when I do, I will rip that traitorous whore limb from bloody limb..!"

And without another word, he tossed the photo into the fire.

MEANWHILE, AT THE SALVATORE SCHOOL'S OLD MILL...

Noel exhaled loudly as he downed the contents of his red plastic cup, shutting his eyes as he let the alcohol buzz through his body.

The Old Mill night party had been going for almost three hours, but the revelry and mirth were still going strong. Noel was no anthropologist, but if tonight was any indication, it seemed like the only way to make the school factions get along was by getting them drunk.

"Sure you don't wanna slow down, brah?" someone to Noel's left asked. "I mean, damn, that's your third drink in the last hour."

Noel turned on the wood log to see Kaleb Hawkins beside him; the vampire looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a smug smile.

"...And it's not gonna be my last." Noel chuckled. "Loooong day."

Kaleb shook his head with a wry smile, the other dozen vampires around the fire laughing with him.

"Hey N, we're not judging here." another vampire (a handsome one at that, Noel thought) spoke up. "Just sayin' that you take a spill and cut yourself..."

His voice trailed off as he indicated to the other vampires. "Y'know..."

But Noel shrugged off the boy's warning, reaching into an ice bucket at the end of the log.

"Calm down, Marc," the youth snickered. "I'm not that drunk. Yet."

The other vampire - Marc - smiled, his bleached buzzcut yellow under the firelight.

"Besides..." Noel smirked, running a finger down Marc's lips. "It's not like you haven't given me a good necking before, is it?"

Marc's smile disappeared, the vampire blushing furiously as Noel sat back down on the wood log beside Kaleb; who was barely containing his laughter.

Hanging out with the vampires wasn't like involving yourself with the other Salvatore School factions. The werewolves were too xenophobic and wary of any non-wolves and being a part of the covens meant walking a line that Noel couldn't toe (i.e. his little 'display' in magic class yesterday).

But the vampires weren't beholden to such prejudices. They accepted one another freely, without hostility and held no misgivings about any vampires being 'different' from the others.

'Vamps Before Tramps' as Kaleb was fond of saying.

"No, like Twilight ruined all vampire mythos."

A smile crossed Noel's lips as he recognised a familiar voice near the fire pit.

"Okay, y'all want reality," MG extolled to two other vampires. "Y'all got to go old-school. Okay, my man Blade... He is the GOAT. His crazy mom was all, "You wouldn't kill me." And then, he's all, "I must release you."."

Noel couldn't help but laugh as MG moved his hands wildly in the air, as if swashbuckling with some invisible sword.

"...And he's... bam, stab! Dude kills his crazy-ass mom!"

The boy paused.

"...But...uh...I'm not saying that y'all should kill your mom, 'cause t-that's messed up."

"I've always been more of an Underworld guy myself..." Noel spoke up, pressing his bottle to his lips.

A chorus of 'oohs' erupted from the vampire crowd as MG looked at Noel, flabbergasted.

"U-Underworld?" he asked incredulously. "Bro, really? But Blade's the OG! Wesley. Goddamn. Snipes!"

Noel's smile grew. "Kate. Beckinsale." he challenged. "...Kicking ass in a tight, wet leather bodysuit."

More laughter from the vampires. And a few approving wolf whistles.

But MG wasn't convinced, the vampire pointing at Noel accusingly.

"Man, y'all are sacrilegious as hell!" he exclaimed. "No-one's better than my man, Wesley!"

And without another word, he stormed off into the crowd, mumbling and grumbling to himself all the while.

"Damn, bro..." Kaleb snickered. "You just had to go after poor old Wesley like that, didn't ya?"

Noel felt a pang of guilt as he watched MG leave, but his feelings were forgotten the moment his eyes fell on anotherface in the crowd; a smiling face with a head of rich, auburn hair.

Josie.

Noel tensed up, like a bird about to take flight, edging himself off the wood log as Josie walked by him.

"O-One sec, guys!" Noel excused himself. "I'll be right back!"

The witch rushed over to Josie, ignoring the wolf whistles and teasing laughter from the vampires.

"Josie!"

The Saltzman witch turned around, her eyes widening as Noel approached her.

"N-Noel," she stammered. "I, uh, I'm sorry I didn't see you there..."

Noel stopped mere feet from her, readying a list of pre-considered topics in his mind. But the moment his eyes met hers, Noel's throat suddenly tightened, his mouth going dry as if filled with sand.

"...Is everything okay?" Josie asked.

"I just...uh..." Noel took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry...about this morning. I didn't mean to snap at you, I was just in a bad mood cos Lizzie woke me up and-"

"It's okay, Noel." Josie cut him off, her smile brighter than the fire behind them. "I understand. I know Lizzie can be a bit much sometimes, but she means well. Honest."

Noel wrinkled his nose. "...If you say so..."

Honestly, the witch wondered, how could she keep defending Lizzie's selfishness like this?

A silence fell between them, the momentum of their conversation falling like a puppet with cut strings. Not only that, but Noel could see Josie's eyes darting between him and the ground, her hands opening and closing shut at her sides.

"...I meant what I said earlier today," she told him. "That you can talk to me if things...if things get rough, y'know?"

The smile growing on Noel's face disappeared, the witch looking down.

"Talking isn't gonna help me, Jo." the boy lamented. "And it certainly isn't gonna stop everyone from thinking I'm a headcase. Even Dorian and your dad look at me like I'm a freak..."

"Hey..." Josie whispered. She took another step forward and put a hand on Noel's arm. "I'm sure he understands. Both of them."

Noel couldn't help but feel a strange flutter from Josie's touch; her hand warm and comforting, yet awkward and alien all at once.

Her face caught the firelight exquisitely, the sun-kissed skin of her face glowing a soft bronze.

"...Yeah." Noel scoffed, forcing himself to look away. "I'm sure some bookworm and middle-aged, vampire-hunting human know all about messed up witch problems..."

Josie pursed her lips, letting her hand drop from Noel's arm; the latter's heart sinking with it.

"...I'm sorry, Jo." Noel apologised again. "I know you're just trying to help but-urgh!"

A burning pain shot up Noel's right arm; coming and going like a bolt of lightning.

Josie's eyes widened in alarm. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah..." Noel winced, rubbing the sleeve of his shirt. The pain was only momentary, but it had struck sharply and suddenly enough for Noel to spill his drink everywhere.

What was that; a stray ember from the fire or something? The burn marks on his forearms and shoulders flared up once every few months or years but never something that inten-AGH!

The pain struck again, only this time in Noel's chest, just below and to the right of his collarbone.

And it stayed.

"AGGGH!" Noel exclaimed, pressing his hands to his chest.

"Noel!" Josie cried out, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Noel, what's happening-?!"

Josie's cries caught the attention of the vampires, Kaleb and Marc watching the ordeal with fearful eyes.

"Yo, Noel!" Kaleb called out, vamp-speeding over. "What's going-"

"STAY BACK!" Noel hissed through gritted teeth. "It's-AGH!"

Another wave of pain shot up Noel's right leg, forcing the boy to the ground in a fit of agony. The second his body hit the forest floor, the pain had reached his entire body; agony building to a horrific crescendo within every nerve and organ of his torso.

All eyes were on him now; every student in the Old Mill watching as Noel spasmed and sobbed with pain on the dirt of the forest floor.

"What's wrong with Nolan?" one of the students asked.

"Hey!" another called out. "Someone call somebody! Nolan's spazzin' out on the ground!"

"Jesus, what's wrong with the defective this time?"

That last sentence bit into Noel's heart, the boy scowling as he looked dead into the crowd.

"FUCK OFF!" He roared.

A burst of energy exploded from Noel's body; a torrent of magic that tore bark from the trees, kicked up dust from the ground, shattered beer bottles and sent flames from the fire pit bursting up into the sky like lightning.

The students screamed as the flames reached up into the sky, the trees and branches catching fire within seconds; right as another burst of energy went off.

Josie screamed as she was knocked off her feet, but was saved just in time by Marc's vampire speed.

But the same couldn't be said for the other students; the magic waves blowing everyone off their feet and into the air like a hurricane. Some landed more than twenty feet away, straight into trees and the old timber walls of the Mill. It was a miracle that no-one had fallen into the fire pits around the area.

It was like an event straight out of Revelations; terror, fire, brimstone and chaos raging in all directions, with Noel in the centre of it.

As if the pain weren't enough, bright circles began to appear in the lower corners of Noel's eyes - like flares in a camera lens.

"Ugh...Jo, I'm...I'm starting to see spots..!"

But Josie, barely up on her feet in Marc's arms, shook her head - a reaction shared by those closest to her.

"You're not seeing spots, bro!" Kaleb gasped, his dark eyes wide with terror.

Noel winced, a loud ringing in his ears. "What?!"

"Noel!" Josie screamed. "...Your birthmark!"

And at last, Noel found the source of his agony:

His birthmark was glowing.

The tomoe-shaped mark was barely recognisable under the blinding light bursting from it; every vein and artery in Noel's upper torso lit up like the Sun.

And as the light got brighter, the pain got worse - to the point where Noel's head began to swirl and his whole body went numb...

"Noel!"

...and he collapsed onto the ground, the pain swallowing him.

Noel felt the dirt on his face for a moment, skirting the edge of reality and blackness until a strange voice rang in his mind:

"彼はあなたを召喚します.

選ばれた十三人が再会します.

そして彼の刃の下で

不自然な世界は滅びます."

"...What?" Noel mumbled, his lips brushing the dirt. "...I...I can't...understand you..."

"He summons you," the voice repeated in English, soft and serene as the darkness it echoed from. "The Chosen Thirteen will be reunited. And under his blade, the Unnatural will perish..."

And then the voice spoke no more.