I'm going to save all my explanations and gratitude for after the chapter. I wanted all you readers to get right to the story; I've kept you waiting (in suspense I hope) for long enough.

Please enjoy…

CHAPTER 5

Usagi pulled her 91 Ford Taurus up to the curb and parked. She was about a block and a half away from the new Crown Café and a few minutes early. She shut off the engine and sat there gripping the steering wheel with sweaty hands.

She wasn't sure how to go from here, and just getting here, had been hard enough. She looked down the road toward the coffee shop where she could picture her mother sitting in a corner booth, alone. She could see her sipping hot green tea, looking frail and aged, and her chest tightened at the sad image forming in her mind. She was left feeling pulled in two directions as her mind whispered that she turn back, while her heart pressured that she go forward.

'What do I say?' 'What will she say?' So many questions but Usagi had no answers for any of them. 'The only way,' an unnaturally soft voice whispered in her mind, 'you'll ever get them, is if you get out of this car and stop hiding. For once in your life Usagi, act like an adult,' and in sudden clarity she realized her stalling for what it was. She'd been hiding from her mother for seven years and that had been seven years too long.

She was going to have to be bigger than words in order to confront a truth she could no longer deny, because her mother deserved more than Usagi had given; or would ever give. Suddenly filled with a silent determination, she got out of the car with ease and walked down the empty street with a sort of purpose. As the Crown doors closed behind her she glanced back fleetingly, her confidence slipping slightly, but just as quickly looked away to avoid the temptation they offered, She walked toward the hostess swiftly, with every intention of seeing this through.

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Just 40 yards away from the cafe, on an outdoor bar patio of a place called Sharky's; Endymion sat at a table with a gin and tonic. He was wearing dark blue jeans with a white t-shirt and black loafers; and despite the casualness of his appearance and the atmosphere, he somehow managed to still look regal. His hair was wet and messy as it fell into his eyes, which were looking toward the dark entrance of the pub; they seemed expectant.

As if on cue a waitress came out, swaying hips and fluttering eyelashes, and Endymion hid a sneer behind his now empty glass. He took in her tall figure, and fake curves. Her face might have been beautiful if it hadn't been for all the dark make-up, and if she hadn't dyed her obviously red hair bleach blonde. She was wearing a short black skirt with a tight see-through halter-top and long black boots. There was a seductive smile on her face as she winked at him. He gave no response to her blatant sexual display, but it didn't deter her in the slightest. She placed a tray she'd been carrying in front of him, and bent down to reveal an unhealthy amount of cleavage as she offered him another drink.

"I thought you could use another one; it's on me." Her voice was low and inviting and it grated on what little nerves he had left.

"Well…" He looked to her nametag, "Beryl; lets get one thing straight. You can buy me as many drinks as you like, but there isn't enough alcohol in this world, let alone in this glass, that would make you appear even slightly appealing to me." He gave a small, condescending smile before turning away, dismissing her completely. Her eyes narrowed, and feeling completely humiliated, she slammed his drink down with a huff and stormed off; her face as red as her hair roots. (I had to do that because I'm a big BITCHY-BERYL hater. So I thought it would be fun to bring her in and humiliate her, in a brief tiny cameo. God I love my job!).

Endymion sipped his drink, ignoring her theatrics, while his perceptive eyes pulled out two women sitting in a corner booth from a crowded café down the street. One was older, in her early forties, but still beautiful despite the stress lines around her eyes, which unkind years had put there. Thick, black hair pooled around her torso in curls, and accented her tan skin; they complemented her dark brown eyes. She was Japanese, though very few people would have guessed the same.

She was sitting across from a younger woman who had her back to him, but he knew who she was. He knew by the cherry-vanilla fragrance she wore, and by the silvery-blonde color of her hair. He could feel her anger at the older woman and the older woman's tired frustration at everything. They were arguing.

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Usagi put her head down, regretting her belief that she could do this. She should have known, when her mother had greeted her with a short, 'you look too thin', that this had been a mistake. They had exchanged pleasantries awkwardly after that, both not knowing where to start. So Usagi, uncomfortable with the awkwardness, had asked bluntly, 'what to do you want?' It had gone downhill from there, gaining momentum, until Usagi had had enough.

"I shouldn't have come." Usagi stood up and gathered her things, disappointed beyond belief that her mother hadn't changed at all. "I thought maybe, maybe after seven years, you'd finally grasped the concept that I'm not like other people, that no matter how much I wish I could be normal I'm not, but I guess that's asking too much from you. I should just accept the fact that you're never going to understand."

But before she could slip out of the booth completely something caught her wrist, and she turned to stare down at her mother's tired face.

"Don't run from me Usagi, you did at 18 and you're doing it now. The only reason I don't understand is because you didn't give me time. You dumped all this supernatural shit on me right after Shingo died, and you expected me to handle it. Well, I couldn't, and yeah I got angry but you never gave me a chance to take back the words. Suddenly you were never home, always out late with Makoto, and when you were home, you locked yourself in your room. So I just stopped trying and then you left; what could I do?"

Her mother released Usagi's hand as she sat back down slowly, suddenly caught up in remembering the day she had told her mother everything, and the events that had followed after.

It had been a week after Shingo's formally announced death, a Saturday, and everyone had sat idle around the house. Her father, Kengi, had been sitting in a recliner in a corner of the living room; and for hours his unseeing eyes had stared at a picture on top of the mantle above the television. It had been a picture of Shingo and his friends celebrating his tenth birthday, with Shingo blissfully unaware that it would be one of his last. Ikuku had been in the kitchen, her hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, while Usagi, who'd been standing in the doorway quietly observing her, would watch as she took turns looking up into the dull, grey clouds through a small window above the sink, and then back down at the dirty dishes, which had been piling up in the past week. She looked lost, and Usagi knew the feeling because she was feeling it too, just like her father; they were all lost without him.

Usagi also remembered the heavy silence that had settled over the house like a thick, suffocating blanket. She remembered hating how large and empty the house had become now that her brother was dead. Dead; the word had sounded so final, and she hated that too. She hated the way her parents barely spoke anymore, and she hated the way their eyes always looked so sad, and she hated that her brother would never celebrate another birthday, or experience his first kiss, or start a family; but most of all, she hated herself for being the one responsible.

There were tears falling before she even realized it, as the guilt and shame and self-hatred festered in her heart and hit her hard. Her brother's life had been placed in her hands the night he had disappeared and she had let it slip through numb fingers. He'd been missing for three days, and when the police had found his body, they had labeled his death an unexplainable homicide.

When they spoke of two unnaturally large incision marks just under his jugular, and that his blood had been drained to a non-existent level, Usagi's fears had been confirmed. The monsters Usagi had only learned about just a under a year ago had murdered her brother.

Her parents however, would never understand, and Usagi had stayed silent with the fear of their reaction. She knew she would have to tell her parents, she would have to tell them all of her secrets because they deserved to know, had a right, so she had come down here to try. But how did she find the words to tell them that the reason they would never get to see their only son grow up was because she had carelessly left him to fend for himself, thinking that he'd somehow, stay safe.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hands, and by sheer will alone, walked up behind her mother, trying to utter something, anything, but her mother spoke first.

"Usually," there was only a small pause before her mother continued speaking, "right around this time, you'd still be in bed, sleeping the day away, and just about now, I'd ask Shingo to go and wake you, because I didn't want you to miss out on breakfast."

Usagi stayed silent at her mother's soft words, not sure where this was going.

"He would complain as he stomped up the steps, and I would smile at the exaggeration of his anger. I could hear him yell for you to 'get your lazy butt' out of bed, and for the next few minutes I'd only here Papa watching the morning news and the hum of the refrigerator, but I would always wait for it…" her voice went low as she remembered the Saturday morning ritual, and then her voice broke as she continued.

"Suddenly I'd hear a loud screech, yours of course, and then Shingo laughing. I'd hear quick footsteps as you chased him down the steps with a shoe. You'd end up chasing him around the table till you took notice of the food on the table; and in the end I'd get angry, and chastise you both for acting like four year olds."

There was another pause and Usagi knew her mother was crying, but she was trying to get the words out before she broke down completely.

"But the truth is, I was never really angry and I would give anything to have that routine again instead of this god awful silence; instead of this choking, unbearable, quietness. I can feel it creeping into my soul Usagi and I fear that it will leave me deaf inside."

She turned then, and Usagi was there when her knees gave out. She looked down into her mother's hollowed eyes and grief ravaged face, and Usagi's heart broke at how defeated and small she looked.

"I failed as a mother Usagi."

Usagi stifled a rising sob and weakly shook her head as her mother reached up to squeeze her shoulders painfully.

"I buried my son." Her voice was heavy and slightly crazed; as if she couldn't quite comprehend the words but understood the unmistakable significance behind them.

"He was supposed to bury me." She finished in a dazed whisper, her eyes glassed over and far away.

Usagi slid down onto the floor to be level with her mother and swept her up in the warmth of her arms. She rocked her slowly, carefully, while a deep fear began to settle fast within the recesses of her mind. She was suddenly afraid for her mother, afraid of what she might do to herself, not physically but mentally. The thoughts that filled her head, the belief that she had allowed this to happen, that she hadn't done enough, would ravage her mind until there was nothing left. She'd drive herself insane, waste away slowly in a disparaging house filled with the face of the reason she was suffering. But Usagi would not lose her too. She would save her mother where she couldn't save her brother.

"Don't mother," she rasped suddenly, "Don't spend the rest of your life wondering what might've been. Don't get stuck thinking there was something else; some small detail that could have changed anything. And don't; don't hold this travesty over your head, because the weight will crush you." Her voice had become sharp and strong, despite feeling weak and unstable, but her mother needed to hear this, needed to believe and understand that this was not her fault.

"You did everything you could, everything, but this is the way things are. And if anyone should have done something more, it…" and then her voice broke, her body trembled, but for the sake of her mother she would say this; she had too.

"It should have been me." It was a whisper, a tiny whisper but her mother had heard because she had pulled back to stare at her unbelievingly. Her throat went dry, and the words caught, and it hurt, everything hurt, but she would not let her mother live with the self-destructive thoughts that were building in her mind.

It was Usagi now who clung to her mother for support, but she wouldn't look at her, couldn't watch as her face turned angry and unforgiving. So her eyes picked out a dirty cup on the counter behind her mother, one that Shingo had favored, and stared at the sports pattern while she began her confession.

"I believe…" She swallowed painfully, "the place to start… would be about a year ago. When Makoto and I were becoming really close friends and things were still normal. But, then I stumbled, literally, onto a big family secret of theirs, and things just weren't normal anymore." Her mother stayed silent and Usagi was grateful, interruptions could make her lose sight of what needed to be said.

"I found… I… learned… that," she fumbled with the words, her body becoming hot and uncomfortable, while her breath began to shorten, "there are monsters… real life monsters… the kind… the kind you see in books… and in movies. And her family, Makoto's family, they fight them, and I can fight them too. I… I have a natural talent so… so they trained me, and taught me, and I excelled."

"And after four and a half months of lectures and facts and attack drills, Makoto and I were left fighting the real thing. They were big, and strong, and fast, at first, but I found that I was never really scared. Everything felt natural, familiar, and I began to anticipate the next confrontations. I realized that despite all their extra gifts, they were sloppy, arrogant, and mindlessly stupid. There ever-present hunger left them careless until it was all too easy for us. But then we became over-confident, reckless, and it almost cost me my life.

"Makoto helped me home that night, kept me conscious, and stopped the blood flow. We came through my window as quiet as we could, but Shingo was standing in the doorway just the same. It was when he didn't go running for you; when he quietly walked up to me and gently swept back the hair from my face, I realized he knew. Not everything of course, but just enough, and I was grateful to be able to share something of my secret. He stayed with me all night, while I healed quickly, and in the early hours of dawn I explained roughly my late night disappearances.

"He understood for the most part, but I remember him telling me that night, in this strange grown up voice."

'I should call you crazy and yell for mom because she would know what to do. But I watched the miracle of your fast healing and something in your eyes tells me that this is real. So I'll let it be for now. But if this becomes routine, where you come home half dead all the time, I well get anybody I have too, to stop this. Are we clear?'

"He sounded so different, older, and all I could do was nod a silent yes. I stared after him as he left, just as quietly has he had come. After that it was hard be normal with him around you or dad, so I began to avoid him. But every night, when I'd come creeping through my window, maybe close to two in the morning, he would peek in from my doorway, just to make sure I wasn't… hurt. Usually I'd smile an okay, and he'd linger for a moment before heading back to the comfort of his bed. The gesture was so simple, but it meant everything to me, and I loved him so much for it. But it was that worry, that concern that… that got him killed."

Her mother had gone still; her breathing almost non-existent and Usagi feared what she would do when she heard the end of this horrible story. This was the hardest part, and it would cost her everything.

"The night of Shingo's disappearance had started just like every other. I'd sneak out through my bedroom window as the last light in the house went out. Then I'd rush through the empty and dirty streets of the city to meet Makoto at the public park near the flower walk, and things unraveled so fast from there that I was helpless to do anything but let it happen. From the start even, there was nothing I could do."

She took a shaky breath, "I arrived to find myself alone, and it took just under an hour of waiting to realize that something was off; that something was wrong. Makoto was unconscious when I found her, with various bite marks on her neck and arms. There was a large purple bruise on her right shoulder and upper left eye, a deep cut near her collar bone, and her left arm looked like it had twisted funny; it was broken. I searched for a pulse, not expecting one, and instead, it was unbelievably fast. Everything was such a fuzzy mess in my mind that I didn't think about what it meant. I remembered thinking, why didn't they kill her, why isn't she dead, but then her eyes opened; it was too late by then.

"I sailed hard into a tree with the breath knocked out of me, and the ground spinning fast. She was there in another second and I felt myself being lifted by my neck, her hand squeezing at my windpipe while my feet dangled off the ground.

"They must've been waiting, planned it so a large gang of them would come at her all at once, in order to over power her. And while her battered body showed she'd put up one hell of a struggle it hadn't been enough. And with so much blood loss she was vulnerable to their hypnotic suggestions, their mind control; they had poisoned her mind against me. I knew from the white film that covered her eyes and by the way she would twitch from the evil overdose.

(Okay here is where I'm changing the writhing style, it's like she's taking us back into another flash back)

"I'm going to make this slow and painful, and begging will be of little use to you." Usagi was thrown another fifteen feet, effortlessly, into the ground. She sputtered on the air now available to her burning lungs, but concentrated more on where her attacker was. She blocked the next hard kick with her arms and kicked at Makoto's stomach with enough force to make her stagger backwards. Usagi got up fast, on the defensive, and tried to think of a way to knock Makoto unconscious again, because only then would she be able to help her.

Makoto came at her again and Usagi jumped up into a round-a-bout kick, which connected with Makoto's head and had her stumbling to the side. Usagi came down just as Makoto stood ready and balanced again. In the short moments where both waited for the other to make a move, Usagi saw that Makoto's left arm was limp. Makoto charged at Usagi but she sidestepped and grabbed Makoto's useless arm to flip her over roughly on her back. Makoto grunted at the sharp pain racing up her arm and stayed down, panting heavily. Unfortunately, before Usagi could give her friend the comfort of peaceful unconsciousness, Usagi became distracted and terrified as her brother ran out into the clearing, looking confused and screaming at her to stop what she was doing.

That was all the time Makoto needed to kick her backwards a few yards, with her landing heavily on her side. Usagi watched, horror stricken, as Makoto charged after her brother who stood frozen in fear. She scrambled up, her heart racing, and literally flew at Makoto in desperation to intercept her. They tumbled down, smearing dirt across their clothes and faces, and rolled to a stop with just a few inches between each other. Usagi was up quick and dragged Makoto up with her, and before Makoto could gain her bearings, Usagi hit her twice in a double rounded fist attack (like how Faith does when Buffy and her fight in the third season) and then kicked her hard and far into the bushes behind her.

With Makoto busy for now she rushed over to her brother who was still frozen in his place and shaking. She lifted him up easily and carried him swiftly toward a concealed spot of overgrown and condensed shrubbery.

She looked into his wide, uncomprehending eyes, and took in his trembling form, and felt something heavy cross her heart.

"Stay here. Do not move until I come for you. If in ten minutes I'm not back, you run. You run like hell toward home and don't look back." He nodded once and she kissed his forehead briefly. She pulled back once more to look at him and smiled a weighted smile before she rushed off back into the clearing.

She returned to find Makoto was missing and everything had become disturbingly silent. Nothing could be heard except for the beating of her own heart, which seemed to pound so loud she was sure the people across town could've heard it.

She knew Makoto hadn't left because demonic orders would only leave you when you were dead or you had completed what was demanded of you. So she calmed her breath and opened her senses to everything surrounding her. She heard a dragging sound in the grass and ducked just as Makoto sailed over her, missing her intended target.

Makoto jumped up in a mad frenzy but Usagi was ready for her. She grabbed at Makoto's broken arm and pinned it behind her back. She kicked in her knee, hard, forcing her to kneel. Usagi then brought her free arm down even harder between Makoto's jawbone and shoulder, into the soft flesh of her neck. Something snapped and Makoto fell to the ground, limp.

Usagi fell with her, tears in her eyes, as she cradled Makoto's head in her lap. She brushed her sweaty bangs back, sorry for having fought her, for having to hurt her, and that it wasn't over yet. She reached down to find a pulse and panicked at how slow and weak it felt. She had to get her to a hospital; she needed a blood transfusion and lots of water for her dehydrated state.

She picked Makoto up and ignored the intense pain exploding in her muscles; glad that there was a hospital not to far from here. She headed toward the park exit when she remembered her little brother, frightened and alone, and waiting for her.

Her mind began to rationalize that her brother was smart and could take care of himself, where Makoto was injured and on the verge of death. He would be alright for now and she would explain things to him when she got home.

When Usagi knew that Makoto was safe within the hospital's care, she slipped out before they could ask questions and raced home; running fast enough to break world records. She entered her bedroom window and felt close to collapsing, but she would not give into the treading darkness that clouded the edges of her vision until she knew that her brother was safe. She tore through his door and groped for the light. When the room was flooded with it she found it empty.

She swayed, unable to think about what it might mean. 'He's here!' she thought frantically, 'he's just hiding, because he's scared.' She ran toward his bed, with the covers askew, and began to tear it apart to find him.

"Shingo" she called softly, so as not to scare him further, "Everything's fine and I'm home now so you don't have to worry anymore. You no longer have to be afraid. I'm here, so please come out." But he didn't and Usagi began to pick apart his room in a crazy rage to find him.

"Shingo! Shingo!" Her voice grew louder and shriller every time she called his name. She kept searching until her desperate screams woke her parents and brought them rushing in, confused and still half asleep.

"Usagi?" Her mother's light voice questioned as she saw how Shingo's room lay in shambles; lamps turned over, his mattress shoved off the bed frame, and his clothes and toys littered everywhere. But Usagi ignored her clueless parents, pushed herself past them, and ran down the stairs still yelling for him. She looked under the living room couches, inside the bottom kitchen cabinets, and checked both the bathroom showers.

She returned to the living room, subdued and shaking, to find her parents at the bottom of the steps still confused but now more awake and worried.

"What is going on here Usagi? Do you even know what time it is, and where is your brother?" Her mother's voice was slow and deep in her head, far away. It was the million-dollar question. Where was Shingo?

"I... I don't… know," and then she collapsed, no longer able to hold off the darkness. But she welcomed it, took comfort in it as she began to fall to impossible, silent depths.

Usagi's voice fell away and her mother was left to blink away the images that had filled her mind at Usagi's words. But she couldn't make any sense of it, so she stayed silent and unmoving. Usagi tried to look at her mother, tried to determine her thoughts, but found she didn't have the strength to do so. So the seconds ticked by as the silence grew stale and choking.

Within a few minutes Usagi's limbs began to tremble and her breath became heavy and short as she waited anxiously for her mother to say something, anything. Instead she stayed frighteningly still and rigid.

"Momma please," she spoke at last; in a mumbled, pleading whisper, "please speak to me."

She moved to rest her forehead on her mother's shoulder when she suddenly staggered to her feet. Usagi fell forward with the abrupt loss of support but didn't attempt to get back up.

"I…" But her mother couldn't finish, not sure what to say.

"This… this is crazy," the words were a breathless whisper and Usagi looked up quickly to stare at her mother's turned back as she walked slowly toward the kitchen sink.

"Do you understand how this sounds? Do you realize what you're saying to me?"

"I'm not crazy mother; even though, right now, I wish I was. I wish… I wish this was just some cruel, crazy nightmare and that any minute I'll wake up to find him in his room playing video games. But this is real and he's… he's gone." Her mother flinched as the words left her mouth but Usagi ignored it. "And I know how it sounds, but I need you to just… I need you to… to believe me. Just… please…"

Ikuko tried to clear the thick fog suppressing her mind, tried to think rationally over everything, and found that only one thing stood out in her mind; just one. It left her cold and numb and hateful.

"How then…" Her mother's voice had suddenly become ice as she gripped the counter hard, hands tight to restrain herself. "How then… could you abandon your brother?"

She didn't turn around and Usagi began to shake uncontrollably, almost painfully, and hung her head in shameful despair as she tried to explain through the harsh tears that escaped her eyes.

"I didn't know what else to do at the time. Makoto was unconscious and nearly dead. I didn't have time to check on Shingo and get her to the hospital in time. So I…"

The sound of shattering dishes cut her off unexpectedly and she cringed away from the cutting noise. It took a moment for Usagi to look up into her mother's brown eyes that were shinny with hot anger, and deduce that her mother had shoved the numerous dishes off the counter in blind rage as she whirled around to speak at her.

"So you left him alone and vulnerable in a dangerous environment and figured that he'd be just fine?" Her mother's voice was casual, almost humored, as if the question was funny. It was as if this whole conversation about Shingo's death had suddenly turned funny, and it sent cold fear creeping up Usagi's spine. She could feel her heart freeze for a beat or two, so strong was her fear.

"No I…"

"Well, it sure seems that way, doesn't it Usagi? You had a decision to make it seems, Usagi, and your brother wasn't even worth your consideration. Now I've lost my son; my only son." There was a small sardonic smile on her face as she spoke with the same casual humor in her voice. Usagi felt her emotions shift suddenly, and though she had no right to it, she became angry at the accusation.

"That's not true! Makoto was dying. She was dying! I had no choice, and I left Shingo with specific instructions to run home if I didn't come back. He should have come home, but he never did like to listen to me. The fool probably waited too long and…"

It had been fast and hard and Usagi hadn't seen it coming. One minute her mother had been leaning against the counter and the next she had been startling close and then rocked back from the force of her mother's slap.

"Don't you dare blame Shingo for this!" She hissed ferociously, "don't you dare!"

Usagi brought a shuddering hand to sweep across her throbbing cheek where she knew large red welt lay. Guilt rose up like a tidal wave and swallowed her completely as she choked on scornful sobs. Her anger turned in on herself and she mentally began to lash out for the unthinkable, horrendous thoughts that had entered her mind without warning. She had no right to use Shingo as an excuse; none.

"I'm sorry." The words sounded weak and pathetic, and she realized they would never be enough. Ikuko let out a bitter bark of laughter, "You're sorry? We'll that's great Usagi, but I still don't I have my son back. Now I don't know what really happened that night, and I suppose I never will, but…"

"I told you what happened, I told you…"

"You told me a story about monsters and make-believe. You told me a distorted and deluded fairy nightmare. Underneath that, somewhere, there must be a simple truth in which something did happen, where you were involved, and regardless of everything else, whatever it may be or might have been, I blame you. I blame you…"

Usagi felt a rushing weightlessness engulf her, as if she were falling fast off some high-rise tower; and this time she knew there was no darkness to break her fall. This time she would hit concrete and she would break; she would shatter into a million pieces and lose herself.

"You need to leave. I want you to leave. Just get away from me, out of my sight before I lose my sanity."

Usagi didn't need any more encouragement and got up roughly, swaggering toward the swinging kitchen door. She pushed past it and froze in the hallway that connected to the living room where her father sat staring at her. His eyes were blank as he looked over her flushed tear stained cheeks and her red swollen eyes. Just as she was about to leave he called out off handedly.

"I thought I heard something come from the kitchen, a noise or something?" She gave her father a disgusted look, and pitied the waste he would become to her mother, but he ignored it. Then she remembered it was she who had ultimately put him in this ugly state of mind and her eyes turned soft.

"Don't… worry about it dad." She spoke quietly before running up the stairs without waiting for a reply; he didn't give one.

She closed her bedroom door softly and turned to face her quiet room. She fell slowly to her bed, collapsing with a hand to her heart. She had stopped crying, and now her eyes were dry and irritated, while her throat burned and ached.

She stared at the ceiling and felt the anger she had lost returning, anger at everything and everyone, but most of all herself. She welcomed it, craved it, because it was better than the swelling emptiness that consumed her. Violence began to rage inside her and she stood up to look around her room, unable to stay still. Her lips formed into a sneer at all the useless frilly junk, which covered her bedroom walls and cabinetry pieces.

The violence grew wild, became an uncontrollable frenzy that pushed for release along her whole body. She walked swiftly to the closet and grabbed a baseball bat from her younger softball days and rushed back to the dresser closest to her. She raised her bat high and swung with every ounce of strength and watched with a sort of cruel gratification as her figurines and trinkets smashed to pieces.

She swung again, harder, to make the pieces even smaller, and reveled in the destructive power that flowed beautifully through her fingertips. But her simple actions hadn't satisfied her completely; she needed more, so much more. She moved on to another dresser and began to swing at all her meaningless collectables and keepsakes.

She was ruthless and relentless, moving throughout her room with random steps, swinging at everything within reach. Piercing screams began to follow the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood, and she didn't care that they were her own.

Then suddenly there was nothing left to break, and Usagi stood lost and incomplete among the messy remains of what was once her room. She looked to her broken vanity mirror and stared at the distorted image of herself with numb eyes. 'Seven years bad luck' her mind whispered dazedly, and then she laughed, almost hysterically.

She fell onto her ravaged bed, covered in various ripped pages of her Manga and laughed. She ignored the bits of glass that tore at her skin and left her bleeding. She rolled onto her back, her hands forming tight fists as the laughter died off abruptly and silence reigned for a moment or two.

"IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!" she screamed to the heavens above with malicious fever. "It should have been me!" She repeated, and kept repeating it, over and over again until it became a mere bitter whisper. "It should have been me…"

As she spoke the words she could feel a part of herself slip away, close off and harden to become cold and indifferent toward everything around her. A wordless vow had formed upon her lips to find the monster who had taken her brother, who had killed him; and then make it suffer, make it beg and plead, but never show it mercy. Never!

Having something to look forward too now, she relaxed on the bed feeling completely exhausted and heavy with sleep. She felt her eyes closing and turned onto her side to get more comfortable. In one last fleeting sweep about her room, her eyes glanced over the mirror again, but what she saw now left her gasping and wide-awake.

She surged up and turned back around to face the dark haired man that she had seen standing in the mirror and found to be all too familiar.

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"Is this what you've been reduced to Endymion; some cheap stalker?" A foreign man's voice seemed to echo inside her head for a moment, before things began to fade away and she was suddenly left staring into her mother's much more older and panicked face.

"Usagi? Usagi what happened? You just about disappeared on me for a few minutes. Are you okay, do you need water?" Usagi herself wasn't sure of anything at the moment and while she tried to make sense of the last few minutes and convince her mother that she was fine, Endymion was trying to do the same. But instead of convincing his mother, who had died over several hundred centuries ago, that whatever had happened was nothing; he had to try and reassure his skeptic friend as well as himself.

Nephrite grabbed a chair and sat down while trying to hide the amusement that filled his face. It wasn't everyday that Endymion was caught unaware and spacey; more like never.

"Do you want to explain, or are we going to pretend that it never happened?" Nephrite was pleased to find that his voice sounded indifferent when in truth he was almost desperate to know what had happened in the last few minutes since he had come upon Endymion.

He watched as Endymion glanced up with slightly unfocused eyes that he couldn't seem to clear fast enough. Nephrite's amusement dissolved rapidly and was astounded to see the almost vulnerable expression on his friend's face. Nephrite could never remember a time in which he had seen this look. Ever.

Endymion struggled, after having lost himself inside Serenity's memory, to regain his impassive composure. His ruthless control had been stripped away while he watched a part of her tragic childhood unfold in vivid detail before his eyes. He was left helpless while his entire being filled with her every bitter emotion and self-condemning thought; powerful enough to make him believe for a moment that they were his own.

For one brief moment he had felt his heart, which he had forgotten was there at all, begin to beat fast with a powerful need. For only a second, this game had become more than just wanting what he couldn't have; she had suddenly become more than a mere possession. He had wanted something more from her, something special; he had wanted something that was meaningful and forever.

For a mere moment he had wanted to protect her from the future cruelty that life had yet to bestow upon her. He had wanted to soothe away the past scars that were branded forever across her heart. He had wanted to wrap her up in the strength of his arms and keep her safe from the dangers that awaited her. But then she had pulled away, the memory had dissolved, and reality had come rushing back to leave him winded and dazed, and empty.

He began to feel heavy, almost paralyzed by the magnitude of disturbing emotions that were stirring inside him. It were as though he was being swallowed up by a vast, violent ocean and sinking fast into its ominous dark depths. It felt as if he were loosing sight of his objective, unsure now of what he wanted, or how to obtain it. For the first time in over three hundred years, in just under a millennium, he was left questioning himself and his motives. Suddenly there were doubts forming, when he had been so sure of himself before; and he didn't like it. It made him feel weak and incapable.

Abruptly he shoved the sentimental thoughts away, his pride rising full force to bring back his confidence. He had lived too long not to know that every choice had consequences, but there was no consequence too great, if it meant he would have her.

With his objective clear once more, Endymion's eyes cleared, becoming as cold as ice, and coolly he glanced over at Nephrite to answer his earlier question.

"There's nothing to explain, I was just… thinking," His words were smooth and toneless while his expression had turned passive. The sudden change in Endymion's demeanor had Nephrite believing that he had imagined all of the last few seconds; until Nephrite remembered he didn't have an imagination.

"Right," Endymion looked up sharply at Nephrite, irritated at the obvious sarcasm, but Nephrite was too busy seating himself and calling over the waitress to order a drink to catch it; obviously having decided to let the matter go.

The waitress Endymion had burned earlier walked out in an irritated rush, writing down Nephrite's tall glass of bourbon in a furious manner, all the while glaring at Endymion. He ignored her of course, taking a large swallow of his drink as his dark eyes, brooding and intense, looked on down the road.

He wasn't going to apologize, she realized, and then ask her out on an expensive, intimate dinner for two. What little pride she had left from their first encounter, had just been completely shot to hell with this last encounter. She turned away sad and disappointed, but tried hard to stay angry so as not to cry, while Nephrite shook his head at another one of Endymion's brush-offs.

He watched the waitress until she disappeared inside the establishment, (sorry, but I got tired of saying the word bar. If I use a word over and over again, I go crazy! So I try not too…) and then turned back to Endymion who stared back; waiting.

Both were silent as Nephrite picked up a thin, black briefcase and slid it across the table toward Endymion. He picked it up, weighing it in his hands, his eyes looking over it carefully, slowly.

"It won't bite." The words were barked out in irritation but Endymion ignored Nephrite's sarcasm and continued his thorough inspection for another second or two, before speaking only a matter of five words.

"It doesn't feel like much."

Nephrite shrugged as if to suggest, 'tough shit', having expected as much from Endymion. Truth was, Endymion was right, even with a library filled with over a thousand books at his disposal, Nephrite had only been able to find a few measly paragraphs on the subject Endymion had specifically asked for. Of course, he'd also been slightly distracted with other, more important things on his mind; more specifically they were his own problems.

"Listen, if you don't find what you're looking for, fill free to conduct your own god damn research; I've got my own shit to deal with right now."

Nephrite knew that his angry words would push the feeble boundaries of there rocky friendship, but Nephrite was one of a very few who could handle Endymion's temper. Nephrite himself had his own temper brewing, and with good reason, because in the last thirty two hours he had denied himself the change into his natural from, the thrill of the hunt, and sleep. If anything, he was in the mood for a confrontation.

Strangely enough Endymion didn't take it any further and gave a short, swift nod of appreciation. Nephrite, bewildered into silence, felt his anger fizzle away and instead heaved a heavy sigh. The silence continued as a new, even younger waitress walked out carrying Nephrite's drink.

She looked slightly apprehensive as she approached the table, and her eyes glanced fleetingly from one to the other nervously. Immediately she noted the tense atmosphere between the two men, both of which looked very powerful and very dangerous, and decided over all that it would be best if she were to make herself seem as small as possible.

She placed Nephrite's drink down quickly in front of him causing the liquor to slosh over the sides of the glass. She gave a small embarrassed sorry, running a towel halfheartedly over the spilled liquid before turning around to scurry back inside; both were humored somewhat by her hurried, almost skittish behavior.

Nephrite was the first to remember himself, and suddenly tired of skirting around issues; decided he was going to be blatant with his suspicions.

"What is Andretos casting? I spied him earlier in the mirror room with a couple of different vials. I'm fairly sure he wasn't fixing himself a drink." Nephrite was surprised at how calm his voice sounded; he had expected childish sarcasm. He also had a logical guess what Andretos had been doing, but he wanted the truth from Endyimon.

When it appeared that Endymion wasn't going to answer, Nephrite let out a defeated breath. He stood up to leave, lingering for just a few seconds with the hopes of capturing Endymion's attention and possibly an explanation, but his eyes were hard focused in the direction of the café.

Nephrite shook his head, weather out of pity or frustration he wasn't sure, and turned to walk away. He had gone only a few steps when Endymion's cold voice reached him, "It's a cloaking tonic, to dim out all of the familiar aspects of my personality and appearance. Tonight she's coming face to face with her past, but she won't remember it; most of all me."

Endymion paused here, allowing Nephrite time to digest his words, and his motives, before adding, "as least not yet."

There were a million things Nephrite wished to say but not one of them was something Endymion wanted to here, so wisely, he said nothing. He only gave the barest nods and continued out.

Endymion kept where he was, his attention now fully centered on the conversation taking place down the street. He watched them acutely, noticing now that the older woman had glided next to Serenity with the intent to sooth her. Surprisingly he realized, she was crying.

Okay, Okay, first of all I know this is a rough place to stop the chapter, especially since I wrote in the last chapter that Serenity and Endymion were going to meet in this chapter, but it just got so long and I knew you guy were anxious for another chapter, I ended it here. If I had kept going, it probably would have taken me another three months to get it out. Which would you rather? I promise though that they will meet in the next chapter, PROMISE, PROMISE!

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Thats it...for now!

Okay next subject, I'd like to thank all of you that have left beautiful, positive feedback for my last chapter. I cherish your reviews and as always they inspire me UPDATE, UPDATE, UPDATE! Please continue with your wonderful reviews, I love to hear what you have to say.

This brings to yet another point, or topic, and that is this chapter, kinda sad I know but I wanted to explain her past, or childhood rather, (I'm sure there will be more flashbacks of her childhood) a little bit more and how she ended up fighting demons. I'm still going to explain her 300-year-old past with Endymion too, but I might end up making that a whole other story. Kinda like a sequel, nut not.

Last subject, If anyone wants to help with my editing, PLEASE e-mail me. I would be so grateful. I'm sure there are quite a few mistakes within this mass of words. The reason being is because I look it over kind of lazily when it's finished. I don't really catch all my errors because I'm itching to get the chapter posted. Please forgive me!

OH YAH! I have another story coming out soon! It's called Capture of the Amazon Princess! Hope you like it.

Well that pretty much sums everything up for now…Until next time!

Love,

Crazychaluppa99