Hey guys. First and foremost, I APOLOGIZE wholeheartedly for taking so so long to update! Gosh, does life go by so fast! I think it's been a year, and I truly am sorry. I promise the wait will DEFINITELY not be as long, and I'll bring the story to a finish in a few more chapters. Thank you all so much for your reviews, alerts, and favs, it truly does mean the world to me.

I'm not sure if anyone would still be interested in the story, but I appreciate everything all the same. :-) Hope you enjoy this chapter! xxx

Carrying Susie, I slip back onto the Boardwalk, immediately merging into the crowd of people, and blending in again.

They are completely oblivious, with not realizing what I am, and what I only just did in an alleyway a few minutes ago to a poor, defenseless old man. No one even bothers to stare at me, or even so much as send me a curious glance, as I pass. To them, I'm just a normal young girl carrying her tired and sleepy sister along the Boardwalk at a crazily late hour of the early morning, scoping out the sights Santa Carla has to offer on the Boardwalk.

They don't even know what I just did, they have no clue that one of them just could be next- a meal for me, a means to getting blood- and that placates me in some odd, and overwhelming way.

People walk past me at close length, almost knocking shoulders with me; Head bowed down low, cramming in hot dogs, or letting their eyes wander curiously to crowded openings of stores. I like this. It makes what I just did easier, and that more effortless to ease the crippling guilt inside over it.

For now, back on the Boardwalk, I am merely a normal twenty-year-old girl again. Carefree, and untroubled.

Susie is with me, I have her in my arms, her head nestled on my shoulder tiredly, and that is all that matters. That my little sister is with me, always. Unhurt, and safe.

It feels as if this weight that had been baring me down to the point of exhaustion before, pulling over my shoulders greatly, has been lifted.

I take in a slow breath through my nostrils, marvelling in every part of it. I feel content, happy, and most of all, full. My stomach is no longer growling for blood, a feed. I feel satisfied and fortunate with a full liquidy belly. Almost, as if I'm ready for a fight, literally ready to do anything, be anything...

But that contentment didn't last as long as I'd hoped it would, because I could hear them; loud, and clear as crystal. And what I heard, with my keen senses, did not make me a happy, pleased girl. No, it replaced all that profound joyfulness, turned it all on it's head, and transformed it into wariness and tight knotted coils of fear deep inside my belly.

I don't know whether they've been following me, or not. I don't know whether they've been keeping a close eye on me, or not. I don't even know whether they witnessed what I did, in the alleyway. But something has me panicked and my ears and eyesight sharp and watchful.

I am nervous, as I run my hand over Susie's back in a comforting gesture to soothe her, pulling her closer into me. What I don't want, is for her to sense something is wrong. I don't want her to feel, or be aware of the tension that is gritting my teeth together, or the apprehension stiffening and tensing all my back muscles.

I turn on the spot slowly and, immediately, I catch them through the crowd.

Edgar. Alan.

Edgar sinks behind Alan fearfully at the realization I'm looking right at them, that I've caught my eye on the pair of them, and that I'm watching, I've got my sights on them. They linger against the wall furthest from me, trying to somehow slip into the bleak shadows and remain unnoticed.

But I can see them, I can definitely see them. I see the way Edgars lips move, in a hushed urgent voice, into Alan's ear, something even I can't make out what it is.

And then, slowly, Alan lifts his arms and I am shocked at the difference that overcomes his face. Determined, is the word. Fiercely determined, and cold. And then I take notice of, an instance later, just what it was Alan had in his hands.

A wooden hand-made bow, and it was pointing directly at me; his arms lifted, shoulders pointed back. His eyes are squinted in hard concentration at me.

And, it isn't just any plain old arrow on that bow of theirs. It was a thin, long plank of wood. The end was sharpened- probably by one of the boys- to kill someone, to drive the hardest point right through the chest of something, or someone.

Me. Or Susie.

For a moment, I wonder if I ought to maybe try and approach them slowly, talk to them and try to convince them out of it. Maybe put on some silly pretense that I'm still the same girl I used to be, though still living with a bunchful of vampires, like I'd told them so foolishly before. I could smile at them, make friendly with them, then warn them.

Stay away from the boys, and especially Susie...

If you know what's good for you, you will.

All I do though, is stare. I look deeply into their eyes- calmly, intently- challenging them to go ahead and do it, get it over with.

My staring and composed readiness to die disarms them, I think. They weren't expecting an easy surrender. And, maybe that off-puts them in some way, because then something startling happens. Edgar has a quick change of heart, and I can hear them this time. He is speaking loud and high-pitched in nerves.

I'm unsure why, but Edgar says, weakly and trembling, "Don't do it! We don't know if she's one of them, or not. We've just seen her tag along with the bloodsucking scum-eaters."

Only, Alan wasn't yeilding easily. He pulls back his elbow, bringing the quiver along with him. I lock eyes with him, not breathing. Hell, not even thinking. Just keeping my eyes trained right on him. "Come on, she's gotta be one of them," Alan argues, putting up one hell of a fight. "You can't hang around with a bunch of fangers, without becoming one of them sooner or later!"

Incidentally, I raise my eyebrows at them.

Come on, Alan. What are you waiting for?

Coercing Alan, goading him on to do it...

You know what I am now. Kill me, send that stake right through my heart on the Boardwalk. But, whatever you do... leave it at just me. Leave Susie and the boys out of this. Please, for me.

After a long and dreadful moment later, Alan crumbles, finally, over my blatant staring. "Shit, I can't do it!" I hear him wheeze out, lowering his aim on me. The dark eyes remain on mine, hard and searing. I let out the breathe I've been somehow holding in, aching with tears of relief and almost bursting at the seams, and then...

An arm is thrown carelessly around my neck, shaking me around and pulling me into them so roughly the side of my face mashes into their coat; Meanwhile, unlocking my jaw from my little stare-down with Alan, and sending my teeth chattering over the earthquake-like effect they are sending my body into with their boisterous, over-enthusiastic hug. Someone is commending me proudly over my feed in the alleyway, and I think I already know who it is.

David.

I can't quite convince myself to look at him, after what he told me through his mind to mine. Ultimately, I'm afraid to. I'm afraid it might rub him the wrong way, and get his defences up somehow. His sad story, his childhood. His drunk, abusive father. How he... he killed David's little sister. And then, how David finally got his sweet, sweet revenge on him after Max turned him into what he is today.

I don't know what I should do, so I stare down at my fingers instead, picking at my nails.

I'm starting to feel a bit sick with uncertainty. Should I thank him for telling me about what happened before he was like this and giving me at least some understanding into the way he is, or do I just pretend it never happened? Or hug him- do I hug him and make it known to him how thankful I am, how... sorry I am?

I had no idea whatsoever, so I was just reduced to simply standing there, looking down at my sneakers; his arm draped and heavy over my shoulder, sending me slumping in uncertainty.

But maybe he senses that, because I catch out of the corner of my eye, him looking at me, giving me a side-long look, his frosty eyes taking full inspection of my face. I wriggle a bit underneath his arm, unable to help it. He still has that unnerving effect on me, even if things have changed... inside, with all these watered-down feelings for him.

Biting my uneasiness, I lean back and look up at him, and he holds my gaze unwaveringly with his cloudy eyes.

His eyes always seem to pull me in, and they can't ever seem to be released from them until he does it first and tears his eyes away. Magnetic, are those eyes. Only, he doesn't; He doesn't look away. He stares down at me a moment later brazenly, and then I feel it, very aware of it, when his leather-gloved right hand comes up to rest on my shoulder, fingers squeezing down, hard.

It's like he is trying to say something with the gesture alone; Maybe he is trying to tell me it's okay, that I don't need to thank him for what he revealed to me so personally, and maybe he read it from my own mind a minute ago, that I was conflicted and unsure of what to say about it, since apparently he reads minds now and all that crazy jazz.

"I'm sorry about your younger sister." I whisper before I am able to stop myself.

I instantly regret it, the second I see his face.

In a split second, his whole expression closes in on itself, his whole stance changing from somewhat relaxed and unmoody a second ago, into defensive and angry, almost. His face darkens- as well as those eyes- and that unpleasant grimace is back again.

He hates me in some way again, almost as if all this stuff that happened before, with both our guards coming down and actually starting to build some level of friendship and trust, never existed- I can feel it.

And, like. Like, on my part anyway.

Well, it was more than like to me, and I knew it.

And, while I didn't completely understand the feelings I now felt for him, they were just there, for someone I never deemed I would ever feel this way for. And then, I'm awash with a bit of rejection here, because I don't know where his feelings stand.

And, deep down inside, maybe I never wanted to know.

"Nice going, Ruby," he mutters, immediately looking away.

I don't know whether this is his way of praising me over my successful solitary feed, or if he's just being smart at the words of his sister that had just flown out from my mouth, because his tone is so clipped and distant, but I don't care. I'll take it and accept it, either way.

He hauls his arm off my shoulder, and moves away from me to stand closer to Marko, scowling, and searching for his cigarettes. I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach. The distance he put- his closed-off demeanour- intensely hurts in some way.

A little part of me is broken inside, because I didn't expect it to go like this. We were starting to make progress, I was starting to learn about him, and understand him- the true him, in all his complexities. And, what does he do- go into defense mode again, like some childish, mistrusting little boy!

I eye him critically, as he lights one of his stupid cigarettes, his expression unfathomable. He doesn't dare look at me. He won't. I know it's because of those thoughtless words I'd flung out at him, but I was only trying to be nice, and supportive. And, he took it the wrong way. Why did he take it the wrong way? Why is it so hard to reach out to him, vampire, ill-humoured, and all?

He doesn't look at anyone of his boy's, either though. He pays them no significant attention. He merely focuses on the cigarette he's holding in his fingers, watching the smoke whirl around and around into the air. Why is he so frustrating, so hard to understand?

I force myself to forget paying him any thoughtful attention, and focus on everyone else instead. For now, at least. Who knows? Maybe he'll cool off in a minute, or two? Hope so.

My brothers.

A relieved, big smile overcomes my face, and I breathe easy at the notion of no longer being alone with Susie, as I peer up at them all; Marko has Susie now; I think, he took her from me the instance David flung his arm around me. She is up on his shoulders, tiny fingers tangling into his matted sandy hair.

Marko is in fast mid-chatter with both Dwayne and Paul, who are laughing like they really have no care, or worries, in the entire universe.

If only that were true...

I didn't know how long we had, until Edgar and Alan finally grasped the bull by its horns, and got the courage to stake one of us. They chickened out on me tonight, but who's to say they would again, when the time come?

I debate on whether I ought to tell David what happened or not.

But then, I almost laugh to myself over that notion, when clearly he is shutting himself off from me. He doesn't want to hear me talk, he wants nothing to do with me right now. Least of all, he'd want to hear of my concerns over Edgar and Alan, and my near-stake death experience.

My eyes automatically seem to find him again, while he stands there, quiet and brooding with his lit cigarette. All the other boys laugh loudly at something, but not him. He simply smirks, then takes a drag of his smoke.

I can tell I've definitely wounded him somehow over what I'd said about his sister. Only, I was just trying to show him how much I cared. Why couldn't he see that?

I wished I didn't care about him, but I did. The other boys, too. They were exactly like a special, unique family to me, and I've come to cherish each one of them, bad habits and all.

Yes, even David.

But with Edgar and Alan's actions tonight, how they were so ready to send a stake at me, it told me something, and I knew then, things were about to change indefinitely. I could feel it in my bones. There was no going back from this, ever.

I know what I have to do now. I know what is going to happen.

The two young boys will come for all of us, try to break us down and come between us, I know they will. It's inevitable.

After all, surely they know what the boys are, and possibly what Susie and I are. I know what has to happen. I know what I must do.

I'll do anything within my power to protect Susie and the boys. Because this is who I am. This is who I have to be.

And they're all my family, now.

Until the end.

But, in the meantime, as far as David and I were concerned, I'll have to take matters into my own hands...

If this is the only way for him to get past it, and to rip him out of his terrible mood, then so be it. He's so infuriating.

His bright eyes are squinted pensively while he listens thoughtfully to what one the boys are saying, the butt of his cigarette pressed to his lips. I can see he has a reddish tint to the hair on his chin- blood, most likely, from feeding- and, for some reason, my body sings out in hunger for it. For him.

My tongue runs over my lower lip, because I'm undecided and yet full of staggering want. I want to lick that blood off his bristly chin, yet at the same time, I want to catch him so off-guard all his sullen attitude will crumble forever.

All I can hear is my heavy urgent breathing, and not much else. If my heart were to be still functioning, I probably would have been a dead give-away, because it would be pounding furiously with my blood. I don't care if he doesn't want this, or if it's completely crazy of me, I kind of just want to lick that blood off his chin with my tongue. Maybe I'm thinking too hard about it, because as he turns into my direction, the instance that cigarette falls from the white tip of his fingers to the ground, I'm at him, fast and relentless.

"Whoa now, Ruby," he breathes against my lips, sounding both surprised and a little nervous. His scruffy chin elicits an amazingly, tickly raw shiver through me, and, like that, he's not so moody with me any longer.