2002

Frantically Ella fought to regain her breath as she leaned against the wall. She let herself slide to the floor, burying her face as she tightly curled into a ball. The fear that she'd been trying to outrun had only followed her. Something was wrong, so wrong and she couldn't have explained it, even if she tried.

She had the irrational thought that by just being in her presence it would allow the evil to find and harm those she loved. The fear twisted as painfully inside her chest as a sharp knife.

She could hear the moment everyone burst into the kitchen, their voices clambering to know if Nana had seen her. She took a deep breath to calm herself as the scent of dinner cooking filled her nose. The smell of barbecue drifted up from the kitchen. It was such a comforting smell; she tried to concentrate on that and push the fear from her mind. She uncurled a bit, feeling a little silly for letting the gypsy upset her so much. Taking another breath, she noticed an odd metallic scent under the aroma coming from the kitchen.

She got to her knees, one hand braced on the wall, as she heard a soft groan coming from the bathroom across the hall.

A dark shadow pooled under the door, a darkness that when she looked closer wasn't shadow after all. It was a puddle: thick, and dark, slowly inching its way toward her. The rich and coppery scent was very familiar. It hadn't been the first puddle of blood she'd seen. From training mishaps to broken Guardians dragged to her grandparent's home on the brink of death, it was a sight that was as common to her as milk and cookies to most kids her age.

Carefully she approached it, her hand going cautiously once again to her knife. The noise came again. It was a soft groan that ended in an odd choking sound.

She could see her hand shaking as she reached for the doorknob; her heartbeat was like a drum in her ears. Conscious thought had shut down, allowing her instincts and training to begin taking over. What would send most adults running for help had her coldly, clinically, assessing the situation.

Logically she knew nothing should've been able to get past the wards at the edges of their land let alone those on the house. Her instincts were screaming that something wasn't right, something incredibly dangerous lay beyond that door.

"Nana," Ella called. Her voice was calm-too calm-as she fought downthe terror she was feeling. "Nana, Grandda!"

She knew suddenly it was her uncle Rico in there; she didn't know how she knew it, but she did and he was alive. She couldn't know how much longer he would remain that way, but as long as his heart beat, she couldn't leave him. She heard an odd choking moan, one that told her she couldn't know how long he would stay that way, but she knew she didn't have time to run for help. It was up to her to try to save him.

The doorknob turned softly, opening into darkness where a lone candle flickered on the sink. Blood was puddled around Uncle Rico, who lay face down on the floor.

She prayed as she slowly pushed the door fully open.

"Our Father who art in heaven…" The Lord's Prayer had been Ella's safety blanket for all of her short life. She whispered it over and over as she moved to where she found a circle drawn on the floor.

A part of her registered the odd designs around the circle and the waxing crescent in its center, a star nestled into its curve. There was blood everywhere; it looked like a serious injury, but earlier that week Rico had frightened both Jessi and Ella near to death with red tinted Caro syrup. She knew only too well the smell of death and blood… still she couldn't help but grasp at the barest glimmer of hope that Rico was only trying to frighten her again.

"Uncle Rico, if you're trying to scare me again, you're so in for it," Ella said as she crouched down, her hand going automatically to his shoulder. "And Nana's going to be livid; you'll be cleaning this up with a bucket of water and a toothbrush."

He didn't respond. She shook him, but he only made the same whistling, choking sound. A low keening came from behind her and Ella whirled around as a dark shadow swirled past her. She noted that her breath came out in gasps of white, a sign of a malevolent spirit.

Uncle Rico grabbed at Ella's ankle bringing her attention back to him. He was fighting to wrap his hand around the handle of a knife that was made out of something white as he tugged at her. Everything in her was screaming to get out of there, but she couldn't leave her uncle.

Dimly Ella could hear the sound of feet pounding on the stairs as she grabbed Uncle Rico's shoulder and attempted to get a solid grip on him. She managed to roll him over before she saw the red streaming down his throat, his deathly white face, and his terror-filled eyes. Desperately he was fighting to tell her something, but the wound at his throat made it impossible for him to speak.

She watched him in horror as he reached toward her with the knife, animal-like sounds of terror issuing from her own throat. Her hands started to go involuntarily to her mouth and the blood on them had her letting out a scream. Ella's fight-or-flight instinct was kicking in and she knew there was no helping Rico and she didn't get out of the bathroom she would be next.

Rico's eyes were wheeling in terror, not for himself. The knowledge of impending death was in his eyes, the fear was for her. With the last of his strength, Rico pushed at her leg, his free hand gesturing for the doorway, urging her to get out of the bathroom.

Ella only managed a few small steps from the circle before the shadow reappeared. It positioned itself between her and the door, blocking her way with its cowled shape, the petite stature of it made it no less frightening. Looking at it was like trying to see someone shrouded in smoke making it nearly impossible to see any distinguishing features. The smoke shifted with the air offering only a momentary look at the person beyond the cowl.

For a moment Ella caught a glimpse of a lock of long curling hair that swung forward from under the hood. She found herself momentarily mesmerized by the dark auburn that idly reminded her of her own. As the creature shifted again, she could see the bone white shape of a delicately featured face and eyes that glowed red in the darkness.

A sharp burning across her shoulder, down her arm, and curling to the inner part of her elbow woke her from her trance like state, pulling her out of the spell of the thing before her. She looked down to find blood seeping through claw marks trailing down the arm of her shirt.

"Another child of Eleanor to kill. Another cursed Percy to destroy." The voice was like dried leaves skittering across concrete. The smokey shape made a noise caught somewhere between a hiss and a laugh. It was the most frightening sound Ella had ever heard, and she could see her death in those glowing red eyes.

Ella didn't scream; she knew the futility of it. Death was coming for her there was nothing she could do except pray as the sleeve of the cloak lifted. Ella trembled as she tried to face her death with the same bravery and dignity of her ancestors. The smoke shifted again, allowing a brief view of a white hand with red tipped nails before something the color of aged ivory flashed in the darkness. Ella blinked in surprise as the cowled creature retreated just a bit and hesitated warily just out of range of the bone colored knife.

An arm wrapped around her waist, snapping her from her frozen daze. Instinctively she attempted to stomp on the instep of her opponent, but whatever it was anticipated the attack and moved accordingly. Glancing back, she realized it was Dean that held her. Despite the dimness of the room she could see the determined jut of his jaw.

Quickly he assessed the situation, hesitating for only a moment before hauling her back into the circle and shifting Ella behind him. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling with the knowledge that she'd just come within inches of death.

In Dean's blood stained hands was the knife that Rico had been holding. The creature had withdrawn from it; it had hesitated at the sight of the seemingly simple knife. Something about the bit of bone made it move warily to the edge of the circle where it could go no further. They watched as it hissed in fury, pushing up against the edge of the chalk line. Dean dropped to his knees in front of her cupping her cheeks in his hands.

"Ella," he demanded, forcing her to look at him. "Are you alright, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she replied fighting for steadiness, her hands wrapping around his wrists, holding on to him desperately trying to pull herself together. "I'll be fine."

The darkness swirled around them as it focused on the knife in Dean's hand. He wrapped his free arm around her, tucking her head under his chin.

"It's alright, it'll be alright," he assured her. She nodded, but she wondered if he believed his own lie. They were trapped, none of their training so far had prepared for them for the threat before them.

It didn't stop Ella from cataloging the facts in hopes of finding something, anything. It'd become corporeal enough to scratch her, but could materialize like a spirit. She still had no idea how it'd even gotten through the wards, or what kind of circle was currently protecting them. The surrounding symbols were unlike anything she'd ever seen, either way it hadn't protected Rico well enough. The creature's head tilted as it lifted its nose, like a hound that had picked up a scent

"My fight isn't with you son of Du Lac, set down the knife, it's the House of Percy, the daughter of Eleanor that I want," the creature told Dean, its voice that same unnerving rasp. Ella looked to the bone knife still clenched in Dean's hand. He didn't drop it, instead he tightened his hold on it, and got carefully to his feet pulling Ella to hers, continuing to stand between her and the danger.

"If you want her, then your fight's with me, I won't let you hurt her," he returned, tightening his arm around her, holding the knife protectively in front of them both. More than anything Ella wanted to bury her face into his shoulder, to block out the sight of the terrifying figure and the bloody vision of her mutilated uncle. She fought to hold herself steady despite it.

The creature let out a bitter laugh gathering itself to attack, but the lights flicked on in a blinding flash stopping it. It keened furiously in a pitch high enough to leave only the mirror intact. Both Ella and Dean watched the cloaked shape swirl like smoke through the air and disappear into the reflective surface. An eerie flash of glowing eyes remained for a moment before they too slowly faded until the only evidence that remained was a small, feminine, bloody handprint left on the mirror.

Shivering, Ella looked to the doorway where she found her grandfather standing, his hand still on the light switch. He'd frozen at the sight of the body of his son and the blood that had transferred to both Dean and Ella. He instinctively snapped himself out of his shock and gestured for them to get out of the room. Neither of them needed much motivation.

Dean half led, half carried her from the room. She knew she was safe for now; bereavement and relief warred within her since the danger had passed.

Sobs shook her shoulders for the loss of her beloved uncle. Dean guided her into her room as her body began to shake from both sorrow and latent adrenaline.

Grief swept through her and she found herself wrapped in Dean's arms, her head tucked under his chin; only his arms were keeping her standing.

"Dean…" she whispered, the word catching in her throat and she could do no more than say his name.

"I know," he returned, holding her tighter. "I'm sorry Ella, I'm so sorry, he was a damn good Hunter."

"Why do we keep doing this?"

She was desperate in her demand. Nothing made sense, not Rico's death, not the attack, nothing. It only drove home how easily they could die, and for what? All her life she'd been told that it was for the greater good, that it was their duty to take out evil at any cost, to sacrifice anything necessary and she'd believed it whole heartedly. Now confronted with Rico's death and her own helplessness she couldn't help wondering if the cost was too high. Rico had been one of the best and nothing in his years of training had saved him. How could she hope to do better?

Surely the pact made between the Watchers, the Guardians, and God had been fulfilled by now. Hadn't enough blood been spilled over the centuries, hadn't enough of her family given their lives to forgive the sin of love?

"Because there's no one else," Dean replied softly. "Because we can't let evil win, we can't let the innocent die, and we can't stand by while there's something we can do."

There was a burning in her shoulder that had started out simply annoying her, but was quickly building into serious pain. Her arm was beginning to go numb in places while heat scorched through it in others. Looking down at her arm she saw the tears in her shirt, and the black streaks that were spreading from her torn skin.

"Dean, don't leave me," she begged urgently as her gaze flew from the wound to him, her eyes wide with fear. "Please, don't leave me."

"I won't Ella," he promised wrapping his arm tighter around her trying not to let the fear at the sight of those black lines following the path of her veins and what that meant show.

From the moment Ella's scream had echoed through the apartment, Jessi had been instantly awake. She'd taken only long enough to grab her dagger before she hit the floor at a dead run for her cousin's room. She raced into Ella's room to find her lying in bed tossing and turning, tears streaming from beneath her closed lids. It took Jessi only seconds before her sleep-fogged and slightly hung over mind realized Ella was only dreaming.

It had taken a few more minutes to comprehend that it wasn't just any dream. It was the dream, the one that had haunted Ella for years after their Uncle Rico's death with glimpses of what had happened seven years ago.

Jessi forced her breathing to even as she crossed the room and plopped down in the chair near the window. The windows had been left cracked and the filmy white curtains danced in the cold winter breeze, filtering the early morning rays of sunlight randomly through the room.

The dream had haunted her cousin since that fateful night Rico had died. The horrors of what Ella had seen and the subsequent deaths in the family would've been enough for anyone, Guardian included, to have nightmares. Even after they'd been sent to live with their Aunt Ellen, Ella had struggled with the nightmares. After a few months they'd stopped coming as regularly. On occasion it would rear its ugly head, but for the most part they'd eventually faded away.

It had been six months since she'd gotten the call from Ella and had joined her in South Bend, Indiana. A few months after Jessi's return the dreams had come back. Not only had they come back, but instead of it starting and stopping with Rico's death and Ella's subsequent finding of him, they'd begun stretching earlier into the day, or later. She could only make a rough guess by what Ella said in her sleep. Either way they'd become far more intense than they had before and Jessi couldn't help but feel like that meant something.

Rubbing her arms against the chill she debated waking her cousin, but with the nightmares coming more frequently and Ella remembering more, it was becoming dangerous to wake her. More than likely she would react violently, leaving Jessi with no other choice than to fight to defend herself. It wouldn't have been a problem except lately Ella was so caught in the past that the training they'd once done was as fresh for her cousin as it had been the morning their lives had so drastically changed.

In her current state Jessi wasn't certain she had either the physical or emotional strength to take on a fight with Ella, at least not without one or both of them getting hurt. Part of her vibrated at the thought of a fight, at the opportunity to spar with Ella again, but she wouldn't risk it.

Caught in the memories of the past Ella's fight-or-flight instincts wouldn't allow her to be able to stop and Jessi could be forced to injure her cousin to end it.

Since there was no waking Ella without physically touching her, Jessi was forced to wait, something that went against her very nature. She plucked the sweater Ella had left on the chair in front of the windows slipping it on. She tried not to fidget, but watching her beloved cousin in pain was pure torture. The woman had been raised beside her; they'd been as close as twins for as long as Jessi could remember.

Jessi's powers of empathy were tugging at her, pulling her toward Ella's out-of-control emotions with the instinctive need to help. It took everything she had to pull herself back. No matter how desperately she wanted to help her cousin—until Ella understood that she wasn't dreaming, she was remembering—there was nothing Jessi could do.

Since she'd returned to South Bend nine months ago and taken the second bedroom in the apartment Ella was renting from Jem, she'd heard Ella's dreaming nearly every night. It weighed on both of them—it was no picnic for Jessi—but it was leaving Ella in emotional turmoil and utterly exhausted.

Once Ella finally quieted, Jessi slipped out of the bedroom, moved tiredly into the kitchen, and slammed a glass on the counter before hopping up next to it. She wasn't certain how much more she could take. Kneeling on the counter, she opened the cabinet above the fridge and took down the bottle of Johnny Walker she'd stashed there.

She bobbled the bottle, nearly dropping it as she heard Ella's voice once again. This time it wasn't a scream, she was speaking. Her voice, her inflection and tone told Jessi she was still in the clutches of the dream. Pouring a generous amount of the alcohol, she took the glass with her back into Ella's room.

"Dean," her cousin was begging, the pain sharp enough to wound Jessi's heart, while Ella's voice caught on the name.

"Why do we keep doing this?"

Ella's demand was despairing; it was a question Jessi had certainly asked herself often enough. It was something that at one point, if not many times, a Guardian asked no matter their devotion to the cause. The words why me, and why do we keep fighting had at one time or another haunted every Guardian and Hunter that had ever lived.

At some a point everyone felt they'd never do enough to hold back the darkness, that no matter how hard you fought it wouldn't end. Eventually you picked yourself up and returned to what was the right thing, but Guardians and Hunters alike were not without doubt. Perhaps they'd just been born with an inordinate amount of stubborn stupidity because it never really seemed to stop them for long.

Jessi studied the woman sleeping in front of her as she fell silent, taking a drink as she noted Ella's fair skin that was ashen and sheened with sweat; her hair shined copper in the sunlight except where it stuck to her face. There were hollows in Ella's cheeks that hadn't been there nine months ago. After a moment Ella calmed and was peaceful, too peaceful. Jessi nearly dropped her glass at the unnatural stillness of her cousin and then Ella's breathing evened. A blush burned across Ella's pale cheeks. Jessi wondered what Ella was remembering, curious if it was about Dean.

Jessi hadn't heard his name from Ella since the night Uncle Rico had died since Nana had worked the spell to change Ella's will. Nana meant to bind Ella's powers and strip her of her will to hunt, but there was a price for that kind of magic. In her desperation her grandmother had toyed with forces she had no business playing with.

No matter how much any well-meaning person researched and carefully constructed the spell, there was always an unexpected price. In the end that price had jumbled the majority of Ella's memories, some it had erased completely and it'd wiped away so much of what had made Ella… well, Ella.

Everything about the summer Uncle Rico died—including the boys that had trained with them off and on for two years — had been wiped. Jem said it was because Ella would've wanted vengeance had she retained her memories, it would've been too strong to bend her will away from hunting.

It had rocked Jessi to hear Dean's name from Ella's lips. Jessi's memories were intertwined with the present and she was running away from both.

It hadn't been Ella's call alone that had brought her back; even briefly thinking of her other reasons made her gasp as a sharp pain stabbed into her heart leaving a nagging ache. Her college career couldn't be counted as anything other than a loss. She wasn't certain which bothered her more: that she'd failed—and she hated to fail—or what had sent her running to begin with.

Jessi sighed. The idea of being free from the family looking over her shoulder had been a large piece of her decision to go to Tulane after she'd been accepted. She'd been tired of trying to cover up the hunts that seemed to find her no matter how much she tried to ignore them and the more she tried to walk away the more dangerous it had become.

She'd had to accept that fate wasn't going to let her out of the game, no matter what Nana wanted, and contrary to what Nana believed, Jessi never looked for a hunt; from the moment she'd been banned she'd continued to train, but she'd never tried to go against the edict. She couldn't deny that when she got bored she on occasion looked for trouble, but it wasn't different from the mischief any bored human looked for. She hadn't gone looking for the kind of trouble that required a Guardian's knowledge since she'd been banned. The cost of getting caught was too high.

It was a death sentence, a decree that she was too dangerous to continue to live. Death itself didn't scare her, but leaving Ella alone to the whims of the family did, and nothing would ever keep her from protecting her cousin.

In the end she'd wound up missing too many classes as the darkness that was drawn to her blood found her over and over, forcing her to hunt to save herself and the innocents who couldn't understand what was after them.

College had turned into an impossible task, one that had left her feeling like Sisyphus, eternally pushing a boulder up a hill only to be forced to watch it roll down again and again, doomed forever to repeat the task.

She'd been thankful for Ella's call and the excuse to leave New Orleans. She looked at Ella, fearing there was a larger toll she was going to be forced to pay in walking away from a civilian life. There was the chance that she'd have to leave her cousin behind. Jessi blinked back tears of guilt and sorrow as she watched Ella tossing and turning.

Taking a sip of her bourbon, she reminded herself there was also a chance that she could return to hunting with Ella at her side. Granted, not like she wanted, but still working with her and actively in her life. After everything she'd lived through, she tended to be pessimistic. It was much easier to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised when you didn't get kicked in the teeth. Dean's name whispered from Ella woke the hope that she might finally be remembering, a hope she was fighting to dim.

She took a deep, and a much needed fortifying drink before she set her glass on Ella's desk. Perhaps it was time to see what lay in Ella's memories. Jessi would need to understand how much her cousin was remembering. If there was any chance, those dreams would go beyond nightmares allowing Ella to once again know the whole truth, Jessi would do whatever it took to help it along and to get her cousin back, whole.