When Lena woke up the next day, it was with a fading headache. Her memory of yesterday's attempted rescue mission, along with her unfortunate injury, began to feel less like a dream and more like reality. Groaning, she shifted onto her side and noticed how Sam had awkwardly tucked herself into a large chair that couldn't have been much better for her back than the bed the Slayre had slept on. Lena wrestled with the very hard choice of taking a picture or scaring her awake.
But, alas, with a dry throat and her phone nowhere to be found, Lena resigned herself to moving back into place on her bed, somehow finding a position comfortable enough to fall back asleep. The sun shone through the slatted blinds, illuminating a spot on the white laminated tiles that covered the floor of the room—and, no doubt, the entirety of the building. She guessed it couldn't have been later than two in the afternoon, though she wasn't exactly an expert, since the only time she had seen the sun in the past five years was during sunsets.
When Lena awoke for the second time, it was with a start, her eyes wide as she scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. However, she instantly relaxed at the sight of Sam's soft grin.
"Sleep well, princess?" As Sam stretched out the kinks in her neck, Lena wondered why her best friend and her mentor were so fond of that term of endearment. She found no answer to that particular question.
"Horribly," The Slayre groaned as she turned to rest on her back, craning her head toward Sam. The blinds were open behind her, the pitch black of the night staring back at Lena. "You?"
"Worse than that time we got wasted and had to sleep in Lucy's bathtub." Sam stretched to ease the soreness in her body, and it must have worked, judging by the pop Lena heard.
She then pushed herself into a sitting position on her sleep-stiffened but solid arms, ignoring the urge to comment on the particular memory Sam had brought up. The movement caused a ripple of pain that radiated from her ribs to her back, she tried to hide the resulting wince and failed. Letting out a puff of breath, she fixed her green eyes on Sam once more. "You could have gone home."
"A certain blonde hottie offered to stay with you, but you were kind of a colossal bitch to her. And besides," Sam shrugged casually, as if trying to hide the fact that she hadn't been deathly worried, "I wasn't going to leave you here alone."
Lena was happy to hear her semi-conscious self had half a mind to appropriately converse with Kara. "I'm sure she deserved it." She almost missed the way Sam narrowed her eyes, pondering and horrifyingly, perhaps even assessing the situation a little too carefully.
"She told me she'd cover your shifts. I gotta call her soon, actually." If that tidbit of information was a trap set by her best friend, Lena didn't have any chance of not getting snagged.
"She WHAT?!" If Lena had been otherwise unencumbered, she'd have bolted out of her bed.
"Seriously, what's with you?" Narrowed eyes regarded Lena, prompting an immediate wave of anxiety in response to the scrutiny from her best friend.
She swallowed thickly; at least Lena's integrity was still intact, considering the amount of guilt she felt at that very moment. "Nothing." It was a weak lie, and they both knew it.
Sam took a moment to respond, making Lena instinctively look away and chew on her bottom lip. "You're being fucking weird."
"Must be the concussion," Lena grumbled in response. She could say it was the meds making her grumpy, but she couldn't bear the weight of more unnecessary lies.
Sam sighed as she shifted to lean against the windowsill, crossing her arms over her chest. "Nice try, Luthor, but we both know you didn't hit your head."
"Wish I had," Lena muttered under her breath, sounding much like a petulant child. However, Sam's palpable glare clued her in that she must have spoken louder than intended.
At that moment, thankfully, the doctor walked in, and Sam's next inquiry died on her lips.
The door was gently closed behind the tall woman. "How are we this evening?" She had striking hazel eyes framed by shoulder-length dark hair, often pulled back in a neat bun. Her professional attire—a tailored navy blazer over a simple blouse—was complemented by a stethoscope draped casually around her neck.
"Sore." Lena may have expected an annoyed look in response to her short and curt answer, but all she received was a warm smile as the woman scribbled something likely illegible on her notepad.
The doctor lifted her head to look at her patient as she explained the extent of Lena's injuries. "A pneumothorax caused by two of your five shattered ribs will do that."
"Shtrigas pack a hell of a punch." Lena made a mild attempt at deflecting with humor, and it worked.
"I don't think I would want to test that theory." After letting out a short chuckle, the doctor continued as she walked closer to Lena's bed. "My recommendation, considering your healing factor, is bed rest for the next two to four days. I've prescribed some anti-inflammatory medication along with a mild painkiller."
Lena was handed the paper and squinted at the pen scratches, trying to decipher the words. It was a losing battle.
"You're gonna share right?"
"Sam," Lena hissed, as if to say, 'The doctor's right there!'
Her best friend had left not long after, groaning about needing to shower and feed her grumbling stomach before the start of her shift. Lena was still extremely on edge about the prospect of Kara filling in for her, though she supposed that with Sam, Olsen, and the rookie alongside her, the chances of the undercover vampyr getting found out were slim to none.
The anxious thoughts were pushed away once Lilian entered the room, made a beeline for Lena, and peppered her face with kisses. She forgave the sudden assault, if only for the warm double shot espresso her mother had also brought her.
The rest of her evening was eye-gougingly boring, sitting in HQ's meeting room surrounded by dusty tomes that, much like her, hadn't seen the light of day in ages. She flipped through page after page, reading about the known history of magically superior foes, and how previous Slayres had defeated entire covens on their own.
Once she found the information she'd been looking for, Lena penned a decisive list on their whiteboard of the things they could prepare before jumping into the fray. Runes were a given, though Leslie had been the only Slayre knowledgeable about such matters. The next best option was simply iron: iron swords, iron daggers—anything sharp and designed for slicing and dicing would be more than adequate.
It felt very medieval-chic to battle an ancient evil with an iron-forged blade, though Lena didn't totally hate the image it created in her mind. She decided she must have actually hit her head, considering the image her mind conjured up of the blonde vampyr wielding such a weapon.
As if on cue, her phone dinged and the screen came to life with a notification.
How are you doing, was the message she received from Kara, who had annoyingly forgone proper punctuation in favor of adding a grinning emoji at the end. Maybe Lena was happy for the break, but it certainly wasn't because she actually wanted to converse with the blonde.
She typed a quick reply with her thumb and hit send.
Shouldn't you be focusing on patrol?
Lena didn't have time to set her phone down before Kara had already replied. Three times.
Nothing to focus on.
The rookie talks a lot.
Lena snorted, if only Kara would realize how ironic that particular remark was.
And Sam wants to know if you're taking the meds.
Lena ignored the question altogether, knowing full well she had left the prescription bottle at home without intending to take any of the pills.
Instead, she asked: I trust you're being discreet?
I asked Jimmy if he wanted a sip of my blood bag and he ran away? Guess he didn't know?
Lena could swear she heard something crack in her phone as she stared daggers at the offending words Kara had strung together. Of course, she understood it was a jest, but that didn't ease the way her blood boiled at the mere thought of it being true.
Lena typed her next message with a glare, hoping Kara would feel it through the screen.
Hilarious. You're quite the comedian.
When Lena quickly read Kara's next message, she threw her phone on the table. The stupid grinning emoji seared into her mind, almost challenging her. She could imagine that same idiotic grin reflected on the blonde's face, no doubt.
I know, my reflection's a big fan!
Even though the joke had been downright revolting, Lena briefly tried to imagine how inconvenient it would be not to see her own reflection for the rest of eternity.
Hours passed, and J'onn had come and gone to check on the progress she'd made with the research. He stood next to the whiteboard, reading her notes with a small smile, as if he were mentally assigning a grade to them. He then left without uttering a single word; he simply squeezed her shoulder and walked out of the room.
Lena rubbed her tired eyes as Sam entered the meeting room, her face flushed from the fight. Her shirt bore a few scratches here and there, and dirt was smudged on her cheek. She threw herself down in the chair next to Lena, radiating an energy that felt overwhelming to the Slayre in her current mood.
A mood that darkened further at Sam's unfiltered comment: "So, your girlfriend's a pretty damn good fighter, even if you hate her."
Lena's hand twitched as she stopped herself from playfully punching the woman's shoulder. She figured Sam had been roughed up enough for one day. "I much preferred my life two seconds ago when you weren't saying such idiotic things."
"She's really into you," Sam stated easily, still wearing that overly critical look in her eye, as if she were mentally noting every slight detail of Lena's body language.
With an eye roll, Lena adjusted herself in the chair. She wasn't sure if the sudden need to stretch her legs came from wanting to avoid the conversation altogether or from having sat down all night. "I'm painfully aware, love."
"Anyways," Sam punctuated her words with an overly dramatic sigh, "since you're like a block of ice when it comes to dating, did you find anythingfunabout our new friend?" Sam's idea of fun was definitely different from Lena's.
"Iron. Sharp. Stab," was Lena's simple, if downright archaic answer.
"Cool, research turned you into a neanderthal." Sam leaned closer, feigning curiosity. "Should I expect you to start grunting next?"
They both burst into a fit of laughter, and Lena's anxious thoughts dissipated as the tension seemed to dissolve between the pair.
"The Zor-el family apparently has a long lineage of powerful magic users. They're either trained as magic practitioners or become Draugrs," Lena summarized her most important findings.
Something akin to fear briefly crossed Sam's face. "J'onn's gonna freak." Even though neither had encountered such a foe yet, the stories of the monster's abilities were enough to make anyone—trained or otherwise—nervous.
"He knew," Lena said, fully aware of her mentor's tactics. "He wanted us to know exactly what we were up against."
"Right, so we'd take this whole saving the world thing seriously?" Sam leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table.
"Something to that effect," Lena couldn't resist moving closer to wipe away the dirt smudged on her friend's cheek. Sam batted her hand away, fixing Lena with a playful grin.
"That's sohim." Sam shook her head as she leaned back in her chair, pretending to be annoyed at Lena fussing over her appearance.
"Very." The Slayre glanced at the stack of old tomes in front of her, imagining J'onn's stern expression at their usually jokey attitude toward the seriousness of their work.
"Anyways," Sam lifted herself out of the chair, immediately regretting her decision as she winced at the soreness that had no doubt started to settle in. "Shower and food?"
"Yes, please." Lena mirrored Sam's movements and stacked the large books on top of each other before being dragged out of the meeting room by an overeager Sam.
The martial arts training room in the Luthor mansion exuded a serene yet invigorating atmosphere. The soft overhead lighting cast gentle shadows on the polished wooden oak floor that gleamed with a rich, warm hue.
In one corner, a collection of traditional weapons—katanas, staffs, and nunchaku—rested elegantly on display, showcasing both functionality and artistry. Some of them were functional, others heirlooms Lilian had collected over the years.
A padded mat stretched across the center of the room, providing a safe and comfortable surface for training. In another corner was an assortment of boxing equipment, including a custom-designed punching bag strong enough to withstand the strength of a Slayre.
Lena stood in her fighting stance, feet shoulder-width apart and hands raised protectively in front of her. Her hair was twisted into a messy bun atop her head. She wore a pair of black shorts and an oversized grey sweater that had seen better days, its sleeves entirely cut off by scissors. Her hands were tightly wrapped with boxing tape, just like her brother's.
Lex, slightly taller and broader, mirrored her posture with a playful smirk. "Ready?" he teased, shifting his weight and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. The cords of his hoodie swayed with the motion.
With a swift movement, Lena launched a series of punches, her fists slicing through the air with precision instead of answering. Lex blocked her strikes, their hands meeting with soft thuds. He countered with a quick jab to her side, which she narrowly avoided with a quick side step.
"Your punches aren't quite back to their full strength yet," Lex noted, without a hint of arrogance or jest.
Lena was keenly aware of that fact, as the soreness in her ribs prevented her from shifting her weight as effectively as she was used to. Lex hadn't been too happy about training with his sister two days after her injury had occurred, contesting that it could worsen her condition. But, he eventually acquiesced to her demand with the promise she'd take the pain killers after the session.
"You can hit harder," Lena grunted, her wrist caught in a tight hold after her right hook had been deflected.
"The point isn't to worsen your injury," Lex chastised as he blocked a sharp elbow with the palm of his hand. Lena noticed him shaking the numbness out by flexing his fingers. It was the only time she smiled. After that, the only sounds in the room were the thuds of their blocked strikes, and no words were exchanged for the remainder of their hour-long training session.
"Stop holding back," Lena replied through gritted teeth. She could feel sweat dripping down her forehead, forging a path down her brow, her heart thudding in her chest. It usually took much more exertion to put the Slayre in that state.
"Enough, Lena." Lex's stern voice elicited a glare from the smaller of the two. He held both of her hands in the space between them, firmly yet gently. "What's going on?"
Her shoulders deflated, and her gaze fixed on their joined hands, which were shaking. "I'm going absolutely insane not being able to do anything." Lena turned away from her brother, her hands slipping out of his. She tried to regain control of her breathing without facing his concerned gaze—it was always easier that way. Lena never actually got into the habit of dealing with her emotions; she'd sweat them out during patrol. Clearly, that was the emotionally healthy option.
"How about we switch to something a little more fun?" Lex suggested, as if he could expertly read her mood.
She turned then, giving him a perplexed look as if he'd ask her to snort the world's longest line of cocaine. "Fun?"
He laughed, hearty and loud, at her answer. "Yes, surely you remember what that words means, don't you?"
"Bugger off," she scoffed as she worked to remove her hand wraps. Lex threw a clean, crisp white towel her way, which the distracted Slayre caught with her face. She lightly kicked his ass in punishment. After the small tussle that ensued ended, the siblings walked out of the training room together.
Her brother's next words would ignite the scientifically known competitive Luthor gene. It wasn't really, but J'onn was convinced otherwise. "I bet I can beat your high score onCruel Angel's Thesisat JJs."
"You know me too well. It's quite bothersome," she said with some ire, although a soft smile played on her lips. After a much-needed shower and changing into arcade-appropriate clothing, the siblings were on their way to the familiar establishment.
The smell that assaulted one's senses upon entering the purposefully retro neon establishment known as Joystick Junction was a mix of stale popcorn and something else Lena could never quite pinpoint—perhaps a combination of mold and sweat. There weren't many patrons at that time, and that suited the Slayre just fine.
The siblings bought their tokens and made their way to the object of their affection: a large Dance Dance Revolution arcade machine. To most, it was merely a source of entertainment for the night. For the Luthors, however, it was war.
"Ready?" Lena echoed her brother's earlier remark, wearing a similarly cocky smirk as she hopped up onto the platform.
Much like she had done to him, he didn't reply, his eyes locked on hers as he pressed play. As the sped-up beat began, Lena silently agreed that Lex had been right about her needing to get out of the house. Perhaps she had actually been going stir-crazy, but the annoyance in the pit of her stomach remained.
If she were courageous, she'd tell her brother about Kara. Or maybe it would prove to be a suicidal endeavor. She then wondered how Sam would take the news, and for a moment, she almost convinced herself that her best friend wouldn't be that surprised.
On their third attempt at the song, with Lex winning by two points, Lena was actually starting to enjoy the simplicity of the banter between her and her brother over something so silly. Between heaving breaths, they laughed and tried to push each other. Lex had vehemently insisted that was the only reason Lena was able to tie the score.
When they departed hours later, Lex held his trophy victoriously above his head, proclaiming himself a DDR prodigy. The trophy in question was a large, cutesy blue dragon plushie. It would no doubt be displayed somewhere Lena could see it often, a way for Lex to gloat without needing to be present.
Next time, she promised him, he wouldn't have an unfair advantage.
Slayre visions wouldn't only signify the coming of age of their supernatural abilities; they often tormented a Slayre's nights to prepare them for dangerous situations ahead, usually of the world-ending kind. Some reported that in the months leading up to such events, they would become less like dreams and more like memories playing back—clear and vivid. As if they had already lived through these events.
With Lena, it started the day after the night out with Lex. As she went to bed, her dreams transformed into twisted nightmares, hard to understand but deranged all the same. Images of Kara drinking from Sam until her body became limp filled her mind, pitch-black eyes staring back at her, reflecting a madness she had never seen before in the blonde.
Logically, it didn't make any sense. The visions had been so specific that she hadn't even entertained the possibility they were anything other than a manifestation of her current fears. When Lena woke up with her heart pounding so hard she feared it might break her newly healed ribs, a thin sheet of sweat covering her body, she decided she couldn't deceive her best friend any longer.
At least, that was how she had interpreted the dream instantly upon waking. Plus, Sam's inquisitive looks had really started to make her paranoid. So, Lena did the emotionally healthy thing and paced in her room until she knew Sam would be up to get ready for her shift, then she showed up at her doorstep looking like a deer caught in headlights. The drive over was a blur, and she was pretty sure she double-parked.
Continuing on the path of healthy communication, Lena all but blurted it out the moment Sam opened the door. The scary "it" being Kara's true nature. Once the initial shock wore off and Sam was convinced it wasn't a joke, they moved into the apartment proper.
Lena slid onto one of the kitchen island stools, watching Sam's back as if it would somehow reveal how she was taking the news. She endured agonizing moments of silence as Sam prepared two espressos, not uttering a single word. Lena was almost positive that Sam was figuring out how to dispose of her body after murdering her.
Once a cup was slid onto the counter in front of her, Lena instinctively wrapped both hands around it, seeking comfort in its warmth. Her gaze was fixed on the dark chestnut liquid as she decided she should be the one to kick-off the dreaded conversation. "I convinced myself it would be better to keep it from everyone."
"Better for us, or better for you?" Lena heard the hurt in Sam's words and felt all the worse for it.
"At first, I wanted to be sure she wasn't full of shit." Lena glanced up at Sam, whose face didn't betray her feelings. "Then hiding her just became a habit." Or maybe Sam was right, and Lena was simply too afraid to confront the reality of her lies. Ignorance is bliss, after all.
Sam simply stood there silently, one hand on her hip and the other pressed against the counter. Lena had never felt so small and insignificant. "I get wanting to keep her to yourself. She's a real charmer," Sam finally said.
Lena released a long, shaky breath she hadn't even realized she was holding in.
"Don't give me that look; I'm still pissed. I had a right to know." Lena observed as Sam fell into her familiar chaotic rhythm, pacing the kitchen floor with her arms gesturing wildly as she spoke. And for some odd reason, that felt more comfortable to Lena than the stoicism she displayed moments earlier.
"Fucking hell, Lena, I spent entire nights patrolling with her! I know you wouldn't have let that happen if you thought there were any risks. I mean, anyone with a pair of eyes can see the woman is harmless, but that was still a fucked-up thing to do."
Of course, Lena had carefully weighed the risks, and as the only onelivingwho had ever fought Kara, the Slayre knew better than anyone how formidable she was. In fact, Lena was almost certain that the blonde had only been using a fraction of her full strength. Her jaw tightened at the thought of gambling her best friend's life on a reckless hunch about some damn fanged fiend. No matter how nice or handsome they were. Sam was right to say that Lena keeping that particular secret was beyond fucked up.
"I'm very, very deeply sorry, Sam." Her voice was thick with barely suppressed emotion as she ran a hand through her loose raven hair in frustration.
Sam took a deep sip of her coffee, her mind clearly racing. Lena watched as her friend seemed to struggle with what to do next, but before she knew it, Sam had crossed the room and wrapped her in a tight, almost suffocating hug—one that Lena eagerly returned with just as much strength.
"I know you are, babes," Sam said against Lena's temple, her arms wrapped around the slightly shorter woman.
"I do regret not telling you sooner," Lena mumbled into Sam's shoulder, a shred of guilt in her voice.
"It's already in the past, like that questionable sense of style you had five years ago."
After they shared a laugh at Lena's expense, the Slayre shared everything she knew about the blonde vampyr while Sam prepared for her shift. It wasn't much, admittedly, but she knew Sam would want every minute detail, like the nosy aunt she was.
"A vampyr vegan, huh? You sure know how to pick 'em, Luthor." Lena rolled her eyes at her friend; equating Kara feeding from blood bags to a diet choice wasn't exactly a one-to-one comparison, but she'd let her off the hook this time.
"You're going to be very late." Lena pointed out after shooting a quick glance at the watch on her wrist.
Sam gave her a look that said, "And whose fault is that?" as she strapped an ungodly number of stakes to herself. After laughing at Sam's muttered curses over the straps of the gauntlet she'd designed herself, Lena stood up to help her—solely out of pity.
They left Sam's apartment together, and just before she got into her vehicle, Sam kissed Lena's forehead like a father saying goodbye before a day at the office. The last words she had spoken left the Slayre feeling puzzled:
"You better have Kara's address when I get back."
"What for? Sam?" It was no use, Sam had already sped off into NC traffic like a seasoned taxi driver.
Of course, Lena had quickly come to the conclusion that her friend's absurd plan to absolve the vampyr of lying and any wrongdoing was to spy on her as if they were in some mediocre summer blockbuster heist film. It was truly a wonder how Sam was the older of the two.
When Sam returned from her shift that morning, hair askew and with a busted lip, Lena realized her friend's plan was far worse than she could have ever have imagined. "I want to state for the record, before we get arrested, that I think this is a terrible idea. The worst, in fact."
Lena hadn't actually been able to track down Kara's apartment on her own; without a trace to follow, it was nearly impossible in a city this size—even with her heightened Slayre senses. Sam, wearing an aggravating grin, admitted that the wild goose chase was part of Lena's punishment for being a royal asshole. She also confessed that she already knew the location of the aforementioned vampyr because the blonde was a "hell of a talker" during patrols.
"It'll be fine." Sam's almost aloof overconfidence made Lena rub her eyes in annoyance. She couldn't very well decline at this point. If this was to be her retribution, then so be it.
The plan was set in motion the following evening. Sam's intel assured Lena that Kara would be out attending to "things" that night. Lena suspected that this so-called intel had come straight from the vampyr herself. Although the information was suspiciously vague, it had already been agreed that the Slayre would have to indulge her best friend's antics.
Everything was not fine.
The inconspicuous scaling of the fire escape stairs behind Kara's apartment complex, coupled with their act of being two women who had been overly served at a frat party, went off without a hitch. Even their little charade of being so drunk they'd accidentally broken a window seemed to unfold perfectly.
The problem arose when they entered the apartment and came face to face with a woman who was clearly not Kara.
She was slightly shorter than the blonde vampyr, with a lighter frame. She wore short, dark auburn hair styled in a neat, side-parted bob. Her whiskey brown eyes were soft, and she seemed friendly—until she bared her fangs at the perceived intruders and her eyes turned pitch black, with equally dark veins crawling around her eyes and neck.
And that's how that particular destructive brawl started.
Lena's back slammed against the exposed brick wall, the force causing hairline cracks to appear at the point of impact. She had managed to halt the growling vampyr's momentum just enough, or the wall would have been the proud owner of a Lena-shaped hole.
Lena then drove her knee into the vampyr's stomach, but a forearm was pressed against her throat in retaliation, its weight equivalent to that of a semi-truck parked on her throat. She struggled to find enough space to lift her leg and kick the woman away. Instead, she swept the vampyr's legs out from under her, and they both went crashing down onto the floor.
Lena quickly grabbed a chunk of brick that had broken apart earlier and smashed it against the woman's head. The blow hadn't dazed the vampyr, but the powder from the brick temporarily blinded her. Lena seized this opportunity to straddle the woman, gripping the front of her shirt, and smashing her forehead down into the vampyr's nose until blood spilled out.
The bone shattered on impact, which only fueled the vampyr's anger. This was evident to Lena as she soared through the air and subsequently crashed into the kitchen cabinets. She was almost certain that a broken piece of mug was embedded in her back. She had no time to dwell on that fact, though, as the moment she was back on her feet, the vampyr was right in her face.
Lena feigned right, he left knuckles colliding with the vampyr's jaw. Just as quickly, though, her hand was caught in a strong grip. She was spun around, hand twisted behind her. Lena attempted to knock her head back into the vampy, but it was easily avoided as it had been anticipated by the other woman.
The vampyr countered by wrapping her arm around Lena's throat, squeezing tightly with her bicep. Maintaining her grip in the headlock, she forced Lena to lean back at an awkward angle just before driving a sharp elbow into recently healed ribs. As Lena hit the ground with a thud and a louder groan, she heard the discharge of Sam's gauntlet.
The vampyr had caught it just as easily as Kara had on the first night they'd met. There was a moment of silence as Lena leapt to her feet and pulled the piece of glass from her back. She threw it to the ground, her hand and the floor now slick with her blood. Most worrisome of all, however, was how the vampyr's undivided attention was directed toward Sam.
"Nice shot, for a human," the vampyr's voice was softer than Lena would have expected. "Name's Alex."
"Thanks?" Sam stood there, too stunned to speak more than a word at a time for once—a miracle. "Sam," she managed to get out, no doubt struggling to understand the sudden shift in tone as much as Lena was. Her eyes darted between Lena and Alex as she was offered a hand and a friendly smile from the vampyr.
To Lena's horror, Sam actually took the woman's hand in hers as if she had been in some sort of daze. It wasn't a trick; they really did just shake hands. The normalcy of it all made Lena's skin crawl.
"Pardon the interruption, but what the hell is happening here?" Maybe this "Alex" had actually knocked Lena into another dimension. Or perhaps she was unconscious and being feasted on by a rabid vampyr, and this was the dream her brain had conjured up.
The playful smile Alex directed at Sam almost reminded Lena of a certain blonde vampyr, who also just happened to burst through her apartment door, nearly knocking it off its hinges.
Kara's eyes were wild with apprehension as she scanned the room. Lena noticed her face went through several phases: first confusion, then surprise, and finally anger. She must have heard the commotion from miles away, wherever she'd been. Lena felt a wave of disgust at herself for finding the vampyr somewhat adorable in this state.
"Alex, come on," Kara groaned. "You've been here for one day, and you've already turned my apartment into a total war zone!" Her disbelief was punctuated by her hands gesturing wildly at the mess before her.
"I didn't, she did." Alex shifted all the blame to Lena with a nod of her head.
"Correction, my body did after being thrown around by…" Lena motioned her hand towards the brunette vampyr.
"My sister," Kara supplied helpfully as she bent down to pick up a broken mug, staring at it sadly. Despite herself, Lena did feel horrible about the current state of the vampyr's apartment.
"Your sister!?" Lena squeaked out the words for some ungodly reason. At least that admission had stopped her from saying something even more embarrassing, like how she'd replace Kara's beloved mug.
"Friends of yours?" Alex asked, now seated on the couch in what could barely be called a living room. A very shabby, old floral couch, along with a matching and equally unattractive loveseat, were crammed together in front of a flat screen TV mounted on the brick wall.
Kara sighed. "Yep."
"Oops."
Kara's loft was spacious, for the most part. The high ceilings, exposed wooden beams, and brick walls made it feel incredibly cozy—and probably quite expensive. Large, thick curtains were drawn over the few windows around the apartment. The only room with a door was the bathroom. Various pieces of gym equipment occupied what was likely meant to be the dining area, which Lena figured explained where Kara had gotten her muscular physique. The kitchen was fairly small, but it wasn't like a vampyr needed much counter space.
"In her defense," Sam said, and Lena didn't miss the way Alex's gaze snapped to her instantly. "We did barge in here like hot, badass shadow assassins."
"More like stumbling toddlers," Alex shot back with a laugh, likely recalling the duo's less than skilful entry into the apartment through the kitchen window. She brushed brick dust out of her short hair, letting it fall right onto the couch. She then set her broken nose as easily as one would crack their knuckles. It healed instantly after that.
Kara shot her sister a glare from the kitchen.
Lena was about to retort when the blonde's usually soft voice cut her off.
"Enough!" The silence was almost immediate. "Can the adult in the room please explain what exactly happened here?" Her tone was firm, like a parent scolding a child. She carried herself with the commanding presence of an army general, and Lena couldn't help but feel frustrated with herself for finding it so undeniably attractive.
All eyes were on Lena, and she instinctively rolled hers at the pair on the couch, Sam having moved there after some prompting from Alex. They both feigned total innocence. The four of them decided to clean up the remnants of the battle, while Lena gave Kara the brief version of how they ended up here. She desperately tried to get Kara to stop laughing after doing so for much longer than was necessary, at least in Lena's opinion. She was powerless to do so.
Once the apartment looked less like an action film set and more like a living space, they moved to the arrangement of furniture that served as the living room. As Sam and Alex were occupying the couch, Lena and Kara had to sit pressed together on the loveseat. It was entirely inconvenient how Lena's body had to react to being this close to the blonde while she was wearing some godforsaken Hawaiian shirt with dolphins printed on them, making a mockery of the majestic animal.
Kara had just handed her a small bowl used for soup, usually, but the cupboard Lena had crashed into was where her vampyr had neatly placed all of her mugs. So, everyone was served coffee in a bowl. Shockingly enough, Lena apologized, assuring Kara that she would send someone to fix everything—free of charge, of course. A common Luthor courtesy.
"Wait," Alex said with a curious, somewhat disbelieving tone, "you're going to 'send people'? What, are you in the mafia?"
Lena laughed out loud. Over the years, the Luthors had been accused of being hired by every crime organization known to man, so this wasn't an uncommon jab.
"Nope, just a perfect, smart and rich Luthor," Sam answered as if she were discussing a historical fact.
Lena sipped at her coffee, which was a little awkward given how she had to hold the bowl of soup, but at least she could easily glare at Sam while doing so.
Alex whistled, propping her feet up on the makeshift coffee table in front of her. "Making friends in high places, sis."
"Isn't it kind of fucking weird, though?" Sam asked the room, or no one in particular.
Lena wasn't sure, since the only thing that felt weird was the shiver that shot up her spine when Kara sank further into her seat to position herself more comfortably. However, it was horrifyingly uncomfortable for Lena and caused her some serious mental distress.
"What is?" Kara asked, mirroring her sister's action and using the vintage wooden crate thrown over an old stack of books as a footrest.
"Vampyrs and Salyres working together," Sam clarified, and Lena was happy to notice her best friend wasn't faring much better trying to sip her coffee from a bowl.
"It's cute you think this is our first rodeo."
Lena would have found that answer frankly patronizing, but Sam simply grinned at Alex like a dork. She scrunched up her nose, deciding she would have to give Sam a stern talking-to once they were alone.
The Slayre turned to regard Kara, if only to protect her eyes from whatever the hell was going on between Alex and Sam. "You never told me this," Lena accused with a small smile, wondering when she had started smiling at the blonde without a hint of irony or sarcasm.
"You never stop insulting me long enough to ask."
The nerve. Lena narrowed her eyes at the slouched and grinning woman. "I will, the day you stop being so insufferable."
Kara stuck out her tongue at her, and Lena looked away, lest she be tempted to grab it and pull.
"You don't live in National City, Alex?" Sam asked.
Lena hadn't heard her friend make casual conversation like that in years. It was frankly unsightly.
"Nope. Metropolis."
"Traitor." Kara had teased her sister, unbeknownst to her it would almost start an all out war.
It started with Kara kicking Alex's foot and almost dissolved into a brawl if Lena hadn't been there to push Kara back onto the couch, stopping the blonde from sitting up. She simply didn't want to spill her coffee on the ugly rug on the floor and then have to shell out more money for a dry cleaner on top of everything else. It had been a problem with a simple solution, one that involved Lena touching Kara, not that she wanted to.
Though, the sibling interaction reminded Lena of how she and her brother often purposefully annoy the other. She was frightened to realize that she and Kara had something in common—other than being amazing at dispatching fanged fiends, of course.
"I'm just here to help my sister with some family stuff," Alex replied vaguely.
But, as Lena despised 'vague', she asked for further clarification. "Such as?"
Kara leaned forward to place her nearly empty bowl of coffee on the crate that served not only as a footrest but also as a table, apparently. She cleared her throat before speaking. Lena knew she was going to hate whatever the vampyr was about to say. "Alright, before I say anything, keep in mind that you just destroyed my apartment fighting my sister. And don't get all angry with me because—"
"Kara," Lena warned the blonde to cut to the chase already. A message which was received loud and clear.
"Alura's kind of, sort of my aunt," Kara explained with a sheepish grin.
"She's WHAT!?"
Coffee was spilled.