Zac cringed at the relief that flooded Sam’s face when he slunk through the door following Aya. He'd snapped his brother’s neck, but he was still glad he had come back. He was reluctant to speak to them, Sam and Liz. He knew exactly what they were going to say; every single word.

Aya grabbed his hand when he hesitated in the doorway of the parlor, pulling him into the room. Sam stood and shook his head when he laid eyes on his older brother, his gaze flickering briefly to Aya, who smiled wryly and left the room.

“Why'd you run, Zac?” he asked gently.

“I snapped your neck, Sam.” It was a statement.

He sighed. “Yeah, I was there.”

“Do you understand the meaning of ironic?” Zac snorted.

“Stop it, Zac,” Sam said, trying to hold himself back. When he was human, his neck had been snapped. That was how he had died.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Sorry would be a good start.”

Zac's gaze shifted to Liz. “Sorry about what?”

“Don't even go there,” Liz said, exasperated.

“You started it, Liz, but this was never about you,” Zac said without any emotion.

“Then what was it about?” Sam directed his brother’s attention back to him.

“The same thing it's been about for the last one hundred and whatever years, Sam. You trying to prove that somewhere in here,” he thumped his chest over his heart, “there's a good guy wanting to get out. When will you just stop and let me be?”

“We grew up together, Zac. We are as close as two brothers can get. Yeah, we're extremely different, but I know you better than you seem to know yourself. You're so much better than this. Fighting, war. It's not all there is.”

“Don't you think I've spent every single fucking day trying to find something else?” he spat. “She told me it was the only thing I was good at and I believed her. I still believe her.”

“Who told you this?” Sam asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Victoria.” He ignored the confused look on Liz's face.

Sam shook his head, not believing that Zac had kept this to himself for so long. He'd hardly ever spoken to him about his first few months as a vampire. The extent to which Victoria must have manipulated his brother scared him.

“Now do you understand?” Zac was saying.

“I won't give up on you, Zac.” Sam shook his head. “You never gave up on me when it mattered the most. So, don't think I'm going to start now, or ever.”

Zac glanced warily from him to Liz, surprised that he had been forgiven so quickly. “You know I'm...”

“Sorry?” she asked.

“Even if I can't say it, you know I am.” He looked away.

She began to speak, but Zac cut her off. “I know. Believe me, I know all about it. And if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone with the liquor cabinet.”

Sam nodded and motioned for Liz to follow him out of the room. Thankfully, they left without another word. Zac had had enough heart to heart to last the rest of the decade. He felt foolish and pathetic. Two things that should never be associated with him in his own opinion. Taking out an unopened bottle of whiskey, he drank a quarter of it in one shot.

Groaning in frustration, he picked up his bowie knife from the mantle and sat on the couch. Standard issue to Confederate Infantry during the Civil War, this knife had followed him in life and death. It had cut open the wrist of the woman who had made him. The knife that had drew the blood that made him a vampire.

Placing his hand on the antique coffee table, splaying his fingers, he stabbed the knife in-between his index and middle finger. Then middle and ring fingers, ring and little, thumb and index. It was a game he used to play to make his fellow soldiers uneasy. One he never lost and one that never failed in gaining their respect. If that respect was garnered through fear, then all the better. Each war he'd been in, the knives got longer and sharper, the men bigger and rougher.

The knife stabbed through the center of his hand, pinning him to the table. Grimacing at the sudden pain, he refused to make a sound, blood pooling from around the blade. He wanted to feel something real and this pain was as real as it was going to get. Pulling the knife free, blood gushed onto the coffee table. Running his thumb across his open hand, the wound began to close as it healed itself.

“So, you're into self mutilation now,” came that annoying voice from behind him. Aya. Always there to make a smart ass comment.

“Don't presume you know anything about me,” he snarled, standing to glare at her.

“Likewise.” Aya raised her hands, eyeing the knife. He knew it would be gone in under one second flat if she thought it were a threat. He sat back down and stabbed the knife into the table top, facing away from her.

“Keep your head screwed on, Zac,” she said without any inflection.

He turned to retort, but she'd already gone. Shaking his head, he sunk back down into his melancholy. Somewhere he'd lost his way. Why had they come back here in the first place? To pretend that they were human again? Deep down he knew Sam wanted him to find something in himself that wasn't about fighting and killing. Victoria had once told him that it was the only thing he was good at. Perhaps it was.

Liz sighed as her fifth call to Alex went straight to voicemail. It looked like she would have to go the direct route.

She felt guilty neglecting him the last few days, especially after he had been attacked. Everything had blown up in her face after she kissed Zac. Sam's broken neck and having to send Aya off to pick up the pieces. She now felt she owed the two thousand year old vampire and that couldn't be good. But she thought Aya had done it as much for herself as for them. She could see her and Zac finding themselves together someday, even if they couldn't.

She had spent the last few days with Sam, working out what had happened, while they waited for news from Aya. Sorting out what it meant for them. It seemed that love did prevail, at least this time. Liz would never let herself waver again.

Hovering on the sidewalk, she watched Alex working in the garden. What the hell would she say? You were being attacked by a crazy vampire controlled by a two thousand year old witch while I was off cheating on my vampire boyfriend? She shook her head and set off across the grass before she could change her mind. Alex deserved the whole sordid truth.

He caught sight of her as she approached and glared. “Geesus, Liz. Can't you take a hint?” He rolled his eyes, beginning to walk away from her, but she was in front of him a little too fast to be normal, blocking his way.

“Can I just explain? Then you can decide why you want to do,” she pleaded. “If you never want to speak to me again, then I will respect it.”

He groaned and sat on the grass by the bandstand, knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid her for long. She could probably out run him. ”Don't sugar coat it, Liz. If I have to sit here and listen, you need to tell me everything,” he said forcefully. “I was attacked by a vampire and saved by two more. It wasn't very pretty.”

“I know,” she said. “All in.”

They sat on the grass, Liz thinking for a moment, trying to piece it all together. The simplest way to describe everything that had happened in the last year. Taking a deep breath, she began.

“Before it happened, a year ago, I didn't know what Sam and Zac were. I just thought they were two rich brothers that had moved to town just like everyone else. Not until the day I decided to change the route I usually took when I went for a run.” She paused, quietly gauging Alex's emotions. “The details are still sketchy. I don't think I'll ever remember everything that happened that day. I do remember being attacked, but nothing about who it was. There was a lot of blood, that I know. Theirs or mine, I have no idea. When I woke up, Sam was holding me.”

When she stopped, Alex reached out and held her hand, sensing that she needed this gesture at least. He was still looking off into the distance, scowling.

Squeezing his warm hand, she continued, “He thought I was dead. I was dead. The way he held onto me... He was horrified and relieved all at the same time when he realized I was alive. We've been together since. Sam and Zac, they helped me through it all.”

“Did you find out who did it?” Alex whispered.

“I don't know,” she replied. “I know for sure it wasn't the brothers. I trust them completely. They tried to find the vampire who attacked me, but couldn't find any trace of them. I’ve come to accept the fact that I’ll probably never know.”

“What about Aya?”

“Aya,” Liz said with a sigh. “That's more complicated.”

Alex frowned, rubbing his temples with his calloused hands. “I'm all ears.”

“A few weeks ago, a vampire came to town and got into a fight with Zac. Zac killed him, but in the process managed to piss off a very old and powerful witch named Katrin. Gabby helped him cast a summoning spell she found for help. They called an extremely old vampire known as the Witch Hunter. At the time we didn't know who that was. We had nothing else to go on and it seemed like a better option than just letting Katrin kill him. Aya hid her true self from us for ages, gauging our intentions, but she came when she was called and decided she wanted to help. Katrin is after her as well.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. She's very secretive, but I would guess it has something to do with being referred to as a Witch Hunter.” Liz sighed heavily. “That's pretty much where we are now. Trying to find a way to deal with Katrin before she can kill us.”

She watched his features change as he thought through everything she had said. He looked, angry, confused and strangely enough, relieved.

“You know this is a huge head-fuck. And I don't normally use that word,” he scolded her.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I was trying to protect you. I thought the less you knew, the safer you would be.”

“But you've been lying to me,” he said. “It's not just a little white lie. This is the mother load, Liz. Geesus.”

“I'll do anything it takes,” she pleaded. “Anything.”

“Well,” he said after a minute. “You and Gabby. You’re my oldest friends. I can understand why you wouldn’t tell me, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I know.”

“You have to promise not to keep anything from me anymore. I can handle it, Liz. After all, I’m not a mess now am I?”

“You are surprisingly calm,” Liz said carefully.

He shrugged. “When life hands you lemons...”

“Oh, Alex!” Liz flung her arms around his neck, hugging him just a little too hard.

“I don't know what I can do, but if there's something,” he said, extracting himself from her hug. “I'll be there for you guys, but you owe me. No more secrets.”

“Thank you, Alex. This means a lot to all of us. A lot to me.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Gabby sat cross-legged on her lounge room floor, the grimoire in her lap, her face screwed up in concentration. Groaning dramatically, she put the book aside and drew her knees up, resting her head in her arms. She was getting absolutely nowhere. What a pathetic excuse for a witch.

She'd felt different all her life, but had never understood that feeling was her powers trying to come out and be embraced. She still couldn't fathom what she was, being on her own was difficult and having vampires as friends went against everything that the grimoire had taught her. But that she wouldn't change and all things took time, right? It didn't stop her from getting frustrated.

Gabby wondered if she should try and contact her grandmother. She hadn't seen or spoken to her for years, not since she was a little girl. She would have had to be about ten years old when she'd disappeared. Her Grandfather was a less than nice man, severe and old fashioned. Extremely set in his ways. He'd passed a few years ago, but Gabby remembered that he had threatened to have his wife committed to an asylum.

Her parents had seemed to agree with him and her grandmother had up and left rather than stay with her husband a moment longer. Gabby always felt the reason behind it all was because she was a witch and even her own family was afraid of her simply because they didn't understand.

The day she found the grimoire in the attic was the day she was moving out and into her apartment across town a year and half ago. She'd gone through all her old boxes of childhood toys and stumbled across a box hidden in the back corner under her pile. When she'd opened it, she found the most curious things inside.

On the very top was a white envelope with her name written on the front. Opening it, she read the brief note and suddenly understood everything. It read, Gabrielle, when it is time, you will know what to do with this.

It was unsigned, but she knew it was from her grandmother. She recognized her handwriting from birthday and Christmas cards. Underneath was the grimoire and what could only be witches tools. Wrapped up in a deep purple quilt was an ornate knife with a bone handle, a silver bowl and several jars of dried herbs.

She managed to take the box without her parents finding out and began visiting the old cemetery, trying to understand what she was. It wasn’t long before she realized the strange things she'd been feeling all her life was the earth trying to speak to her.

It had been over a week since she'd been entrusted with finding what had kept Katrin's soul attached to the living and for the life of her she couldn't work it out. She'd spent hours pouring over the grimoire, but she couldn't understand most of it, the languages many of the pages were written in were old and strange. The nights she spent communing with the earth to search its energy for anything that seemed out of place, but came up empty time and time again. Truthfully, she didn't know enough to understand what she was looking at.

Sighing, she put the grimoire aside and climbed into bed, exhausted. Tomorrow was another day and she would try again. She had to, even though she knew she would come up empty handed.

Soon, she was fast asleep, her mind wandering into different dreams, of her grandmother, the story she'd read about Aya saving her ancestor from burning at the stake and her search through the grimoire, the pages blending into one huge blur.

As her dream settled, she found herself in the old cemetery, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a circle of power, as if she had been in the midst of meditation. The night was dark around her, the wind wailing with a brewing storm. The only light that pierced the darkness was the flickering candles that surrounded her.

Gabby jumped in surprise as she saw a woman emerge from the darkness. She approached calmly, her hands clasped in front of her, expression cold and unwavering. She wore a dress of long white folds of silk, low over her shoulders, draped to the ground, cinched at the hips by a low golden belt. Long auburn hair spilled over her shoulders that lay still, even as a strong breeze buffeted the cemetery.

How she knew that this woman was Katrin was beyond her. The witch stood at the edge of the circle, her expression closed, calmly assessing her before stepping harmlessly over the line that was meant to keep others out. Her eyes flickered to the grimoire on the ground and her covetous look didn't escape Gabby.

“I'd hoped that you were one of mine.” Katrin rested an ethereal hand on Gabby's shoulder. “But you're Ismena's. Not to worry.”

Gabby was too surprised to say anything and when Katrin reached out and placed a hand over her eyes, she froze.

Katrin began to murmur under her breath, then said audibly, “Your eyes will be one with mine. What you see and hear, will be mine.”

Gabby gasped as she woke with a start. Her mind was confused and she blinked hard a few times and realized she was at home, in bed and it was three am. The dream slipped from her mind just as quickly. An odd feeling told her to try and remember before it was gone, but nothing came to mind. The only thing that she could think about as she fell back to sleep was that she would be wrecked at work tomorrow.