Not a fairytale

This is not a fairytale. There are no happily ever after’s ,there are no princesses stuck in towers waiting to be saved, and there are no savage dragons breathing fire down the hero’s back. Well, there may be dragons thrown about somewhere in the middle there , but they are certainly not savages, and some of them would kindly argue that the entire fire bit got kind of exaggerated over the years.

So no, this is not your traditional kind of story. In fact some of us would argue that it’s not a story at all, but more along the lines of a retelling of events; log since forgotten and long since awaited. Because in the dance of power between light and dark, everything that happened before will eventually happen again.

The cycle cannot be broken by sheer will.

Sadly, this is how it’s always been like on this little planet. Since the first seeds of life on it were given just the right push - just the right nudge to step forward, fate was never really kind to the kinds of twists life on this speck of dust would take. And for those of us who know her personally, Fate has always been a cruel little bitch. But let’s not digress.

So, life huh? Well that’s a loaded topic on a good day, but when you boil it down to its real essence, the true meaning of the word finds sinonymity in another: souls.

Every single life form on this rock has a soul, some have two, and there are even a handful that have more – but the point is that there isn’t a person alive that goes soulless. It doesn’t matter if you’re ascended, human, or fallen, you have a soul – and it doesn’t matter how shinny and whole it is, how gray, or how tainted and mangled – you only get one, and it’s yours to keep forever. In theory.

And this is the root of all evil, when you honestly think about it. Souls have power, great unmitigated power that sadly gets wasted in a human body more often than not. A nuclear power plant that’s held together by flesh and bone. For a mortal a soul is a given, a keepsake that keeps them alive and nicely crammed in their meatsuits. For everything else, souls are like currency. The more you own the stronger you are.

And that’s what started the bet all those millennia’s’ ago.

You see, a long time ago – longer than your bibles would have you believe, so long in fact that is was before man was even able to climb down his tree let alone stand up right, God and the Devil has a little bet: who could gather more souls? And at the end of it, if more souls were in hell than in heaven then the Devil will be given earth as a reward. But, if more souls were in heaven than hell, then God would cleanse hell and it’s king.

Sounds awfully altruistic of the old man doesn’t it? Having a bet with his most misguided of children, and trying to save him through it? What the bet fails to say is how much cleansing a tainted soul hurts, or how many eons of agony Lucifer would go through to be considered …. ‘clean’. But that’s the problem with deities, they always forget to mention the fine print.

So where does that leave Earth? Well, stuck in the middle mostly. No side is allowed to intervene directly, so we get what you would call “half breeds”; those with the heavens touch who were fathered by angels, and those with the hells touch that were fathered by demons. They don’t lurk in the shadows, they don’t hide behind the veil, they’re among us, among you, hiding in plain sight and whispering in your ears. They call it a balance in the system.

But every once in a while the system gets … a glitch. Something happens every few million souls or so. Something that no one can fully explain. You see. everyone struggles before they get shoved in their meatsuits at first, no soul honestly wants to go through humanity again – not if they can help it. So maybe glitches kicked more than they should have, or maybe they felt too cramped in their own bodies – all we know is that they can see beyond the veil, they can touch it, and they can walk through it. “Glitches” though, are dangerous to the system. It’s why most of them hide, most of them lie, and then there are some who simply learn to play it to their own advantage.

These are the souls that form the underbelly of the underworld.

Liars, charlatans, and thieves with no morals and even less backbone. Filth.

So why then, you would ask, did we chose specifically to focus our story on this particular group of lowlifes instead of targeting a more traditional hero type? Simple really. Every man is the hero of his own story, and every story deserves to be told.



We run into our first reprobate lurking in a dive down fifth and nowhere-in-particular, silently sipping a glass of what we would like to imagine is tea, but probably packs a stronger punch. She looks young; perhaps early twenties, perhaps even younger than that – but her eyes give her away easily enough. The blue of them shimmers in the dimly light bar light with a seethed dose of distaste when the bartender asks if she’d like another, and his glow red in return. It’s the mark of his side. Evil shines red, good shines green. And sadly, glitches don’t shine at all.

She doesn’t react to the provocation though; no real point in it, they’re on neutral ground and Papa Midnite would sooner gut the first soul he’d find than break his vow of neutrality. So the fallen bartender asks again, a hint of growl under his breath that promises an unpleasant outcome if she snides at him again, and this time the pale girl with blue eyes just nods.
He smiles, a hint of fang popping out just beneath his upper lip, and she has a few seconds to wonder what species he truly falls under when the seat beside hers creeks under the weight of a new occupant and she sighs into her drink.

“Don’t be like that.” The man says, a bit of a smirk echoed in his voice that she doesn’t bother to confirming visually. “I come in peace.”

“If this weren’t neutral ground, you would have left in pieces.” She says in return, drowning and drink before signaling the daemon bartender for another.

“Oh yeah, that’s healthy.” The man says dryly nodding towards her glass, and earns an eyeroll for his trouble.

“I’m in no mood for a ‘ pot calling the kettle black’ type of conversation, Constantine.” She says, side-eyeing him in warning. He simply smirks, his lips thinning out over fair skin before eyeing an order at the bartender. Telepathy, works wonders in crowded bars.

“But it’s the best kind of conversation you can have at Midnites’. And drowning your problems will never make them easier to bare, Evy.”

“Neither will trying to smoke them way.” She snarks, fighting back the hint of a smile that tugs at her lips.

“Touche.” He chuckles, and almost defiantly lights up the thin cylinder of nicotine he’d been twirling around his fingers since he sat down.

The fall into a comfortable silence after that; half listening to the background music, and half taking in the select scene. She’s on her fifth drink when she finally notices the cluster of red eyed staring her down from the far left corner – they seem newly fallen, young and eager to prove themselves to whomever made them this way. To her right a group of green eyes dressed in expensive suits are entertaining themselves by turning cups of water into whine. And across from them, huddled together over a still alive and struggling bag of … something, a group of reds is … having dinner. One of them stops, eyes flashing and a raw piece of flesh dangling from the corner of his mouth, and catches her eyes. He growls, his upper lip twitching into a snarl. She shrugs.

It’s Midnites club. His rules. You get used it, learn to ignore it, turn the other way and shrug it off along with whatever sense of moral high ground you’d have left within you.

“ Neutrality is sacred.” Constantine finally breaks the silence, almost (and perhaps, most likely) reading her thoughts.

“My mind is my own playground asshole.” She says in return. He smirks in his glass.

“It’s nice and cozy in there. Lots of empty space to roam around in. “ he almost chuckles “Very quiet too.” She resists the urge to break her glass over his head, and sighs.

“What do you want John?” she finally asks, exasperation seeping through her words.

“Just checking in. I haven’t seen you in a while, I feared your line of work finally did you in.”

“My line of work? Do you honestly have any leg to stand on in this topic?” she smirks before adding “Deporter.”

“My services don’t go towards the highest bidder.” He says monotonely before dragging a deep lung full of nicotine from his cigarette. “Nor do I help he bad guys.”

“That’s right. I keep forgetting – your reasons are so much more altruistic than mine, you just want to buy your way into heaven.” She says lowly, with just a hint of venom before she throws a few crumpled pieces of currency on the bartop and turns to leave.

“I’m just surprised you’re not.” He calls over his shoulder, and knows without turning that he made her stop dead in her tracts – shoulders tight and control wavering.

“Glitches don’t go to heaven or hell.” She recites almost robotically under her breath while he blows a lungful of smoke considering her words for a second before he hums approvingly.

“Must be nice.”

“Nice?” she asks, turning to look over her shoulder with a hint of frown tugging at her forehead.

“No ax over your head. “ he hums, even though he knows his words are cutting in deep. But that’s who John Constantine is – brilliant, talented, a great teacher, a good friend, but ultimately a self-centered asshole.

“No. I suppose not.” She breathes out a smile. “Just …. Nothingness.”

To continue the story further, there is another soul that has to have its story told. A filthy one that is, considering demons were believed to be the ones that are the worst, the ones that brings chaos upon Earth and feeds from innocent souls, which would make them stronger in turn, remained oblivious to its true “power”. This one soul decided to lock it deep there and leave it for when the Hell would finally unleash on Earth and Heaven.

In a body of a fragile, yet strong and agile woman, that small soul decided to go with the chain of its own fate until that one, weak metal link would break. Amelie smiled as she catches her own thoughts, snickering in the end and almost giving an eye roll as she pushed open the heavy metal door of the night club called “The Roses”.


“Pathetic.” She whispered nodding at the massive black guard who returned her greeting. She calmly made her way on the red lighted corridor, sniffing lightly the air filled with smoke and sweat, forcing a hand to shot to her nose to inhale her own perfume. It was disgusting due to her high senses, not to mention embarrassing. Her black dress floated behind her as heels knocked on the wooden floor in a peaceful rhythm. Further ahead she made out the silhouette of a barely dressed blond woman and she knew what was following. It was as if the tape of her life was on repeat; either that or her mother was telling everyone of her arrival because as soon as she was half a meter away from the said woman gave a sly smile and as soon as she passed there was that disgusting hand on her bottom, squeezing lightly.
But tonight she won’t let her go that easily, so instead of just passing by, Amelie turned with bright red eyes and hissed at the filth, wrapping one hand around the small neck.



“I think that is enough already scum.” Her voice was low and menacing, made to show clearly which one was the alpha of them two. The taller girl’s eyes grew wider, taken by surprise but submitting with a whimper as she felt her breath growing slower. The hand was soon leaving her neck and she fell on the floor weak.

Amelie gave one last glance and left without a word continuing her walk towards the last door which wrote Gerda Schlaue. Knowing what was happening inside she entered nevertheless only to find her mother moving desperately over what was a young man.



“Mother.” She announced closing the door with a loud thud.

The woman jumped at the intrusion but didn’t stop her movements until there was a high pleasured moan and a grunt from beneath her.


“Ah sweetheart, ever heard of knocking?” she smiled ungluing herself from the man who looked as if his whole body was drained from blood.


“Ever heard of cheating is bad?” Amelie replied as she poured a glass of golden liquid. There was a chuckle before she felt her mother’s presence next to her. “No!” she replied happily as her daughter gave an eye roll before draining the glass. All this time the man one the bed stood with eyes wide opened as the two women conversed unable to even make a sound let alone move from the safeness of that piece of furniture.


“When will you stop being a bitch?” the young girl questioned as she poured another glass, this time deciding to savor the rum.

“Probably by the same time you will stop being a cunt.” Was the harsh reply as the other woman made her way back to her little lover, handing him a glass of vodka.


“Loving as always I see.” Amelie smiled sweetly at the view before falling on the sofa cross-legged. “Oh mother, a half breed? Really? I thought you had better taste than that.” She sipped at her glass watching the young scared man through her eyelashes.


“Heh…he offers me more than you can imagine.” Her mother licked her lips before stealing what was a kiss but Amelie knew better. Her mother was almost draining the poor boys soul. Her body gave a slight shiver before deciding to interrupt the horrible scene. “I have brought what you asked.” At that Gerda’s eyes flashed red before a wide smile stretched her perfect features. She turned at the almost dead boy and whispered something in his ear, the young giving a weak nod and getting out of bed, slowly making his way through the door which probably gave way to the bathroom.


Amelie turned and pulled from her leather jacket a piece of white cloth, throwing it at her mother.


“Ah…” Gerda unfolded the cloth revealing a bright golden ring with shiny runes on it that gave a scarlet red glow. “That’s why I love you dear.” She smiled leaning back to retrieve a small bag from the nearest drawer. She rose from the bed and made her way towards her daughter kneeling in front of her. “Here sweetheart.” She handed the bag to Amelie and leaned in to give her a brief kiss on her lips. “Tell your father ‘I love him’.” She gave one of her sickening smiles before disappearing into the bathroom.


“Not even in hell mother.” Amelie sighed leaving the room.

Number three on our list of “greatest hits- but not really” comes in the form of a myth.  You see, long before God and the Devil decided to play Russian roulette with mortal souls, God was what you would call a very powerful kid with a very large sandbox. And before he could graduate to sandcastles, he may or may not have dug a few holes for the fun of it.

These proto-souls are what your legends and myths are based on. Your vampires, your werewolves, your anything and everything that you ever heard go bump in the night. The problem with ancient souls like these is that they tended to act like the piranha that could devour the entire aquarium. They were ravenous; forever hungry, forever powerful, and when humans showed up on the scene it became apparent that they were about to join an endangered species list as soon as they became … well … a species.  So the angels came together, had a little hunting party, and this is why the things that go bump in the night are only myths now-a-days.

The great beasts were silently slaughtered over the millennia, and gradually people stopped believing their very existence.  And that was the greatest ace in humanity’s sleeve – because once you stop believing in something, it stops being powerful. YOU stop giving it power.

A couple of thousand years later, and whatever was left of the beasts that once terrified angels and demons alike were now exiled in the human world. Forever wonderers, forever hidden.  It’s sad in a sense, pitiful in another, but most of all it was a lesson: survival means incognito.



And that leaves us here – face to face with mythology incarne.

He is roughly six feet tall. His shoulders are far too wide to make him go unnoticed, and his eyes are far too clear in sunlight; they vary in color – sometimes they’re a murky green, and sometimes … when he’s mad, they’re a weird little neon blue. His stubble is too groomed to pass off as careless or unkempt, but  manicured just enough to give off that ‘ironic chic’ vide that seems popular as of late.  He doesn’t speak as much as communicate with his eyebrows – and those who might pay enough attention to him would probably translate five different frowns as a means of communication.
He likes to think of himself as stoic and reclusive; unmarked by the events that eroded at his life. However, the truth is a little bit different.

He feels lonely most of the times, though he lies to himself in thinking he deserves it.  The past still haunts him, and for every moment of every second of every day the gaping hole in the middle of his chest aches just dull enough to remind him that he is solely to blame for it. He firmly refuses to move on, though he likes to think he hides it well enough to come off nonchalance.  He still suffers from PTSD and the nightmares and panic attacks still take him by surprise even after all these years.  He never cries, but he wishes he could. He tells himself he lost the ability to love, but he has been in love, consistently and unknowingly for a very long time now.

His name has lost meaning over the years, over the decades, over the centuries. He still remembers what he used to be called, and silently yearns to hear it called out kindly again. Sadly, not many  are alive remember it, and those who do don’t really care enough to speak it.

He goes by Derek now-a-days. He added ‘Hale’ as an afterthought, once in a stormy and cloudy day. He thinks it’s cleverly ironic. He also thinks he is hilarious and witty.

He is wrong on both accounts.

He joined the underbelly of the supernatural  maybe fifty years ago, and hasn’t really given much thought to it since. It’s a job, he liked to remind himself of it – and he takes in strive whatever dirty deed they have him do. But he remembers why he joined, he sees her every day and follows her word to a letter.
The phrase  “I don’t love her”  became a mantra by this point.  

He never questioned why she joined; never doubted her reasoning since he met her. He is by all account older and wiser, but he decided pretty early on that she was far too young and far too fragile to be out in by herself in the new world she stumbled in.  Myths don’t usually take glitches under their wing – something about honor and pride and the unpredictability of a glitch. But he did. Whatever was left of his kind frowned upon this. Some laughed behind his back, some laughed in front of his face. He never once looked back on the day he met her with regret.  He does however look back and think of it as the day she saved him from himself.

He met her when she was in her late teens, just stumbling through the veil by accident – as it happens with her type of glitches.  They ran into each other when she was running from a horde of low level  demons, and he was deciding to run away from living.  He saves her by accident – mistakenly thinking the demons were after him; some sick instinct of flight and fight still alive and kicking within him. And then he finally lays eyes on her .

She was gaunt, eyes hollow and resolute; the things she must have seen, he’d wondered.  He remembers thinking that killing her would be an act of mercy , rather than leaving a child alone to face the world whose door she didn’t want to open.

She smiled at him then. Among the chaos, the blood, the carnage mixed well with the sickening smell of sulfur and death – she smiled.

She smiled and saved him from himself.

Heaven – what exactly is Heaven? They say it’s a paradise, where there is no hunger, no thirst and no pain; it’s a place where everyone lives in peace, finding that good part of them that was probably shoved aside in order to cope with life on Earth. To reach Heaven you must be good or at least follow those seven virtues. I personally say that Heaven is what you make of your life.


There is a reason why Heaven and Hell exists and there is a reason why here on Earth everyone meets, fights and gets along with. The reasons are irrelevant but there is a point in everything. As we have mentioned earlier God and Devil made their bet that involved souls; gathering as many souls in Heaven was a must, in order for peace to be brought upon Earth. There was one archangel seeker that would wonder upon earth, giving to every new born soul a guardian angel, to guide them through their lives so that when the time would come, they may be taken back to heaven for eternity.

One day, the seeker came to a hospital where there was a rumor that a new soul was born but what the archangel didn’t know was that it was a black soul, or more accurate a demon. You see archangels under normal circumstances they can sense the evil and they would know if to give a guardian or not, but this time the soul was born into a very prematurely little baby. It had no chances to live, the doctors said, so the soul would not stick to its suit unless the body was strong enough to survive.


The moon was in its full glory and the archangel snickered at that as he descended upon the nearest balcony of the hospital. It was a restless night, nurses and doctors running in all directions, tending the wounded and fighting with death itself. Little did they know that through all this commotion, on the other side of their blind eyes, angels and demons were waiting patiently to take what was theirs, throwing daggers at each other and claiming superiority.


He eventually reached his destination and when he stopped in front of a sealed door, inside an incubator was sitting peacefully a little buddle. He passed through the door, making his way towards the see through box. The little chest was rising rhythmically while the beep of the IV pointed a very slow heart rate.


He wondered why God didn’t have on his list this soul, but little did he know. It didn’t pass more than two minutes since his arrival and the IV beep to a faster rate before the infant started to twist its little hands and feet. The archangel’s eyebrows shot in surprise as two eyes blinked open to reveal the most innocent eyes he had ever seen at a baby before; in just a millisecond they flashed red.


That was when his knees gave over and he fell on them, not even once blinking away the stare that their eyes locked in. He knew that it was wrong and he knew what he should expect when he will return in heaven but he just couldn’t leave them; those clear shiny red eyes where he could see what hell was like.


The archangel understood why to that soul was not given a guardian; without point it could never be saved, it could never be clean from its sins and he felt sorry but in the same time he wanted to try and save it so he could bring it back to heaven.


So he returned to Heaven; only to have God banish him from his home. In heaven guardian angels were not supposed to see the soul that were not assigned to them for several reasons.


One of them was that black souls had no chance of purification; they were too tainted to be able to cleanse them and in heaven they were seen as bringers of sins. God did not want Devil to come and dirty his souls that he so much tried to gather, so he banished anyone that would come in contact with those souls, especially pure angels that would fall for them.

The archangel fell from Heaven and the veil closed forever for him. He wasn’t able to pass through it no matter how many times he had tried. His powers remained though, deciding to be that souls guardian angel no matter what.


He became Sean Renard, a lieutenant, because no matter what sin you’ve done, as an angel you will want to fight with the good side. Unfortunately with time, Sean lost track of his soul and in the same time he lost the meaning of his existence. It felt as if purgatory fell over his life, turning him into a puppet.

There come certain moments in your life when you might be tempted to question your own actions. To look towards them with a vague sense of self-pity that seems to mix well with a deep seeded dose of self-loathing . Some of us are equipped well enough to develop some form of self-defense against own psyche, strong enough to derail us from venturing down one dark path too many.


The problem is, there always comes a moment in life when even the strongest defense, the sturdiest of ignorance, gets broken down. And that’s when the lathe breaks.

Derek Hale has been actively ignoring the screeching sounds of his own mental barriers breaking down for years now – though, if he were to be honest he’d probably reluctantly agree that he had been blissfully embracing ignorance from the very beginning of this particular chapter of his life. But let’s face it, Dare Hale is not one to employ truth as his attorney, not when he’s on stand.

When she first came to him with this idea – happy, exited, and smiling that disarming smile – he simply frowned. She wanted to join the Gekai, it was the only way to survive long enough to grow strong – she had said . He still remembers how it felt like to hear her say that; like a slap, cold and jagged to his face, because he thought he would be enough to make her feel safe – he thought he was strong enough for both of them. But he wasn’t part of her plan apparently, not initially at least, and he’d lie if he’d say that didn’t make something in his gut twist in anger.

He wasn’t part of her plan, but he damn well made sure he would be.

He told himself back then, that he was only following her into this idiotic adventure because she needed somebody to look out for her. The truth was that Evy hadn’t needed anyone’s help in over a decade. But this was the lie he chose to go with, and together they joined the criminal underworld of the netherworld.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, not really. They just hung around the right bars, talked to the right people, cut the right deals, until eventually somebody noticed. The hard part was meeting a Gekai member to trust them with a way in, and from there it seemed almost like smooth sailing.

They rose through the ranks easily enough; from petty crime to petty crime until they were asked to prove themselves by doing something … stupid. They took a life. It was easier than it sounded. An elderly demon Halfling masquerading as a priest and having just a little too much fun with the altar boys. They told themselves it was weirdly justified.

It wasn’t.

They worked on the logistics of the hit together, she came up with the detailed plan and the exit strategy, but in the end it was his claws that sank into the halfling’s throat.

Their roles in the organization were pretty set after that: he was the muscle, she was his brain. His orders always came from her; even after she rose through the ranks – he simply refused to work with anyone else, and if it were anyone else he would have gladly walked away by now. But he could never say no to her, never to her, no matter how much the faces of the lives he took still haunted him. And every time she would come by his apartment, or at the part-time job he didn’t really need – carrying a stack of bills and an unmarked folder, it would always be with a sad smile and an apologetic look – like she knew what this kind of work was doing to him, and felt horrible for making him do it.

But Derek never refused a job she handed him. Derek always followed her orders.

Bernhard Schlaue was a loyal friend, but the worst enemy, showing no mercy to anyone who would as much as lay a finger on those important to him. Above everything else, his unconditional love for his daughter showed nothing more than how much of a great father he was. However, despite his attempts of being a good example for his daughter, the missing link in her life started to show and seventeen years later here he was, alone in their house waiting for his little baby’s arrival. After all, a woman’s hand did wonders; he could see it how Amelie slowly turned into an independent young lady, catching roots in the merciless, ugly underworld. After all those years, trying to keep her mother away from her, Bernhard’s wife came back, asking for Amelie as if she was some sort of trophy. No one remember how she abandoned her when she was merely few days old, when the doctors had not given her any chance at life. Of course Bernhard could not deny her mother’s presence when she demanded to have it, even after the abandonment, because he just couldn’t; because in the end Bernhard Schlaue loved his wife still.


The glass in his hand almost cracked under the pressure when he thought what kind of woman he chose to have his child. Before she had fallen under the feeling of need for more power she had been the perfect woman; strong, beautiful, kind as much as any demon could be; she used to adore him, respect and fight for them as a family. But he lost her on the way; the exact time he signed himself to be part of Gekai.

She wanted more than ‘be a part’ of Gekai, she wanted to rule it, craving for the power, having the whole world at her feet. And she did it eventually, leaving him for one of the leaders.


“Stupid woman” he thought laughing hysterically in the empty apartment. After all to want such power there had to be a price to pay.



The elevator came to life breaking the silence that feel over the two floor apartment and within minutes the massive door opened revealing Amelie. His half lidded eyes glanced in her way, taking in her tiny figure.


“Hi daddy.” He greeted first making her way towards the couch he was sitting, giving a peck on his forehead from behind.

“Hi.” He replied smiling softly at her, waiting patiently for her to open the subject.

“Mind if I grab a glass?” she asked.

“Not at all.” Bernhard waved a hand towards their bar, handing her his own glass for a refill.


There was a anxious silence that both felt before Amelie dropped her body next to his, nudging into him and pulling her feet under her. She handed the glass and he took it eagerly.


“You know what I did.” She started with a shameful tone.

He didn’t reply at first, taking time to find the perfect words as well as the perfect tone, while his hand stroke her cooper hair gently. He was angry for sure but he just wanted to know why she did it in the first place.

“I know.” He eventually let it out with a deep sigh. “Why though, is the right question.”

At that Amelie didn’t know what to answer. She knew what her mother was, how disgusting she was and how, herself, embarrassed was to be called her daughter. Was it for the money? For the adrenaline she felt when she did it? Was it to see how far she could go? Well, Amelie couldn’t put her finger on the real reason she went behind her dad, despite how much she had given to her.


Bernhard could tell how disturbed his daughter was by this whole idiotic situation, but his anger was more towards his wife rather than his daughter. Amelie was young, passing through the stage of rebellious behavior, but his wife was over that, and to use their little one to get that stupid piece of metal which meant nothing to her was far beyond forgiveness.


“It’s ok sweetheart.” He kissed her temple, bringing her closer to him as he reminded himself that Amelie choose him over his wife and this was more than that cursed piece of metal that once bond them together. “Gerda just wanted that because she knew it means something to me.” He smiled though at the thought of how weak and childish Gerda was acting.

“I’m sorry.” Amelie whispered.

“Shhh…It’s nothing. If it means something to you, I’m kind of glad that you got rid of him.” He laughed when Amelie gave him a shocked look. “I didn’t have the balls to do it.” He stuck out a pink tongue as the perplexed look on her face before laughing loud.

“DAD!” she punched him in the arm, rising up from the couch and throwing a pillow in his face. “But seriously, I’m sorry. I have no reason to say why I did it, I just-“

“Hey” he stopped her grabbing her chin. “That meant something to me long ago.” His green eyes locked with two identical ones, smiling. “Just because I was weak to throw it away doesn’t mean that it still means.” He saw her frown and he sighed.

“Let me tell you a secret.” He pulled back sipping a large amount of whiskey from his glass. “When we get married, demons and angels alike, we are told to place a drop of our blood over the rings to bind us forever. I missed mine though.” He smiled apologetically when his daughter’s eyes shot up at the new information. “I probably knew she wasn’t the one for me, yet I still took her as my wife. Few years later as you know, Gerda showed me her true face and I felt so relieved that hadn’t done it that time.” His hand passed through his curly locks, frustrated that he had to tell her this. “Your mother wanted that ring because she thinks it holds my blood in it. She wants to use it to get rid of me.” He watched her closely, seeing how his young daughter passed through a chain of different emotions; surprise, disappointment, hurt then anger. So much anger that he thought she would explode. “Look I’m not saying this to make you hate her.” He tried to beat some sense into Amelie.

“The blood is supposed to be used for good and good only, but that’s not its only purpose.”

“Dad I had no idea, I’m so so sorry-“

“Amelie.” He growled instantly stopping her to stare at him. “You learn for your mistakes, first of all.” He smiled to make her feel more comfortable. “Second of all, I want you to think before you ever do a favor for your mother. I can’t tell you to stop seeing her, but just be careful, ok?” he brushed away a tear before rising from the couch. By that Amelie’s head bowed deep, her eyes staring at her hands. She was ashamed of what she did but moreover she was angry at her mother. How could she turned to be this horrible; but then again it was the nature of a pure demon and Amelie’s mind couldn’t help but wonder if she would eventually turn out to be like her.



“That’s your choice.” Her father’s voice was gentle but gained the perfect reaction from her.

“What?!” her head shot back at the realization, leaving her with a wide mouth and a pair of identical eyes.

“Ha!” he laughed hard, clutching his stomach tight. “Oh this will never get old.” Is head shook as she got up on her feet. “Yes I do read minds.”

And that confirmed her suspicions. “Wait you KNEW that I did that even before i-“

“Yep.” He nodded still smiling.

“Even that time when i-“ her eyes grew wider.

“Yup.” His smile grew even larger.

“Even-“she was stuttering by now.

“Yes young lady I know everything.” He was grinning like an idiot.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” she screamed throwing her hands in the air.

“Because I wanted you to learn the hard way.” He grabbed his jacket.

“You could at least warn me you know.” She rubbed her eyes but smiled nevertheless. “Where are you going?” she asked eyeing him closely.

“To an old friend of mine that owns the best bar ever.” He grabbed her jacket and pushed with one foot her knee long leather boots. “And you are coming with me. It’s time to see my side as well.” He smiled waiting for her to get dressed before grabbing his keys and leading the way. “The only difference is that mine rocks.” He winked letting her pass before closing the door after them.

Factually speaking we could realistically stop here. We have everything we technically need: a handful of characters with a complicated quasi alliance between them that hangs by a thread oh a good day;. flaws and shortcomings; a bag guy, and maybe a semi-ulterior motive; and above all the ambiguity of grand master plan.

We could stop right here, and let the reader fill in the blanks for himself. We could, but we won’t.

Most of you can probably see where this would be going from the star, but for those of you who don’t, then let me tell you … if you think this story will have a happy ending, then you haven’t really paid attention up until now, have you?
But we will thread on, keep retelling the story for what seems to be the thousand time in its hundredth different format, because a story is supposed to be told – it’s supposed to be learned from.

The lesson you chose to take from this is solely up to you though.

Midnite’s is an … exclusive sort of club. That much has been made apparent by the unique sort of clientele it caters too. But even among the supernatural it has remained, over the years, a very hard place to get into. The building itself it shrouded under a veil of magic making it impossible to be noticed by a normal human. But just in case, in the unlikely event that one would be blessed with the sight but not the powers of their world, guarding the door within a door inside the hallway of the red-light light hallways of Midnite’s was a bouncer. But not just any bouncer, no. This man was the in-between, the bridge between the human world and the … not so human world. And true to his job description, so was he. A Halfling of a Halfling – half in half out. He would greet people with an unpleasant smile and the backside of a very special illustration. The admission was simple, guess what was on the other side of the card and you were deemed worthy of Midnite’s, guess wrong and you’d be kicked out in the most undignified method imaginable.

Nobody really knows what said method entrails, nobody up until now had been colossally stupid enough to either dare to venture into Midnite’s without the gif, or try to guess wrong for the hell of it.

Evangeline stares at the backside of the card, ignoring the deathly glare the bouncer sends her way when she takes just a bit too long to answer. He lips twitch almost indistinguishably at this.

“Haven’t we been down this road a few times too many now, Randal?” she asks, ignoring the slight twitch in the bouncers eye at the use of his name. He goes by Randy, mostly – hates Randal. The entire thing is delightful. “You’ve seen me enough to know I can and will get in there without the formalities.” She pushes, the bouncer simply grips the card tighter between thumb and forefinger as a way of warning.

“Just answer the man.” Constantine’s voice echoes behind her in a tight almost exasperated voice. She smiles.

“I’m just saying-“

“Don’t.” he cuts off “I’d rather not end up as puppy chow.” He adds matter-of-facty and Randal twitched his unblinking gaze from him. Oh, that’s a nice touch, dog jokes for the quarter demon dog guardian.

“Fine,” she sighed faux-put-upon before staring at the backside of the card again and smirking “Two ducks on a boat.” She says, and the bouncer promptly lifts the red velvet barrier.

“A rat in a dress.” John says a second later before he is quietly admitted entrance . He follows her without question, adding a subtle “We could have avoided all of this, Cerberus.” Over his shoulder, which Evangeline promptly refuses to be amused by. Even if it was funny as all hell.


Inside is as loud and full of debauchery as ever. Every corner and inch of the neutral zone being filled with entities that either had too much to drink, or were in the process of achieving that status as the night progressed. She frowned, near the entrance, quietly scanning the area before she turned a cautious look towards her unwanted shadow.

“Looking for someone?” John asked, a twists at the corner of his lips that betrayed whatever ulterior motive he was aiming for. She simply nodded , eyes landing on a lone figure silently lurking in the corner of a poorly light booth. “Not anymore,” she murmured, smiling faintly as her eyes locked on a pair of brightly neon blues “Later John.” She threw over her shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want to keep your puppy waiting.” He called back.



“The dog jokes are getting old.” He said when she finally reached him, and a part of her missed the days in which she was genuinely surprised by his enhanced abilities. Of course he’d overheard their conversation, even over the music, and the ambiance. Derek was still Derek.

“He means well.” She placated, taking a seat next to him and ignoring the way he visibly seemed to relax in her presence.

“He means to end up like mangled craps between my teeth.” he supplies nonchalantly, taking a sip from a drink they both know won’t have any effect on him. She laughs, and his eyes turn suddenly human just like that. “How have you been.” He asks as a mean of filling in the silence.

“Progressing.” She chooses to answer with, because saying anything else would be a betrayal at this point. “Not much farther now.” She reassures quietly, and he just nods.

“I trust you.” He adds a minute later, unheedingly blissful of the tension that settled on her shoulders at his words.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” the shout came suddenly followed shortly by a swift turn to the right, causing Amelie to go face flat against the half closed window of their car.

“Dad!” she chocked the word out staring at her dad who was ready to pull his gun out and shoot the fucker between his eyes.

“They drive wild!” his hand pointed in front of if matter-of-factly while the other one tried to place back the gun under his seat.

At that Amelie could almost keep the urge of laughing loud at his antics, settling for a more adequate look, given the situation they were in, which wouldn’t send her dad into a frenzy.

“Dad, the only wild person here is you for having a gun under your seat.” Her eyebrow rose slowly when for an answer she just received a pink tongue.

“Grow up.” She clicked her tongue turning her look out the window.



As soon as they reached their destination, Bernhard parked between two blocks and got out of the car in the same time as Amelie shut the door far too strong for his liking, earning a warning look from him at which Amelie just stuck her tongue out.

“You’re playing dirty.” Bernhar pouted, pointing a straight finger at his daughter.

“Someone said to act the same way they act towards me.” She smirked.

“Touche.”




To be honest with her inner self, the place was attractive; never mind the slutty looking hall and the smell lingering in the air, almost similar to her mother’s shitty place, but the atmosphere was welcoming and….relaxing? Amelie couldn’t decide for a better word when her thoughts broke as soon as a card was pointed in her face.

The bouncer’s eyes narrowed, shifting from the two of them.

“She’s new Randy, let her get accustomed.” Bernhard grinned, his eyes giving this amusing tint which made Amelie angry.

“Two wolves howling at the sun?” she asked not quite sure what the point was exactly. When the bouncer moved she passed eyeing her dad closely.

“Was that necessary?” she asked looking back at the man.

“Yes.” He stated, pushing the door only to be hit by the loud music. They made their way to the bar, once in a while her dad being stopped by people for chit chats, eyeing her from top to bottom; because, in all honesty, she was probably the first teenager that ever stepped foot inside that place.

“You like it?” Bernhard asked ordering a round of shots as a beginning.

It took her a moment to answer but nodded before she grabbed the shot, drinking it fast. “It’s cool.”

“Cool?? This is the best place to be in!” his hands shot up watching his daughter with wide eyes. There was an eye roll coming from Amelie and he just laughed. “Nothing pleases you, just like your mother.” At that her eyes flashed red, narrowing deep.

“Whoa whoa girl I’m jocking.”Bernhard placed his hands in defense mode, a genuine smile covering his face.

“Fuck you dad.” She snapped eyeing the bartender for another round. The man’s red eye gave a wink at that.

“Watch your mouth young lady.” He pointed a finger before he growled at the bartender a “she is only seventeen”

“Dad seriously?” amelie rose an eyebrow but smiled eventually, shaking her head. The night was still young and the club looked promising ‘and stop listening to what I think dad, I know you do it.’

There was a choke and the whole shot was in front of Bernhard before Amelie burst out laughing.

“Two to one you demon.” Two fingers wiggled in front of Bernhard as the other hand still clutched her stomach. “This night is going to be awesome!” she grinned.

And therein lays the problem. He trusts her; blind, complete, univocal trust. It scars her half the time, overwhelms her the rest. And sometimes, in the privacy of her own thoughts, she sometimes wonders just how far he would allow her to stretch this trust.

She looks at him then, the corners of his eyes gleaning vibrant green even against the reddish backdrop of Midnites’ questionable ambiance, and wondered: would he die for her?

For the past couple of decades of so he has been everything for her; a mentor, a protector, the shelter against the storm that usually chased things like her out of hiding. He could be cold and merciless, capable of unfathomable cruelty and ferocity – but he was equally tender, gentle, and grounded by a calmness very few of his kind could claim to possess anymore. She laughed to herself the first time she stumbled over the blunt realization of it all: for all the hate he carried against humanity, he was perhaps the most human of them all. The one soul she ever met that was truly grey, never belonging to either side, and never wanting to either.

He had no qualms against heaven nor hell; refused to blame either side for the state of the world, but would sometimes quietly admit that perhaps letting children play with matches was a bad call on the ‘old man’s part’. Giving humanity the ability to choose was to him the root of all evil. He refused to elaborate farther than this though; grunt and shrug off her questions with a frown that both threatened and pleaded her not to dive in father. And that’s how it always was with him, she realized suddenly, he always gave off the feeling of layering himself against the world in such a tight little bundle that if you’d decide to unravel it you would leave nothing of him behind. His growls, his frowns, his scowls that threatened murder to her endless questions were just his way of asking for mercy, for penance … for a second chance against the truth that laid beneath.

It didn’t always seem this simple to look at him and see the vulnerability rather than the walls he placed around himself. He was, in the beginning, a ruthless teacher; loud and disapproving - always asking for more, always expecting more. It took years, decades even, but eventually he told her why.

“For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn't understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.” She remembers him saying. The reality of his words failed to strike her back then; back when she would put on a defiant glare and challenge him in everything he tried to teach. Now though? Now she looks on with a withheld sadness; afraid of the power she holds over the one soul she holds dear above all else, and fully aware her current agenda made him nothing but a mere tool.

“You’re overthinking again.” He says suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts fast enough that she visibly finches at him.
“Relax.” He adds behind his glass of whatever the hell he’s drinking, and she frowns at it by habit. He eyes her carefully, slowly fixing his eyes over her and the moment she takes in a breath, the corners of his lips twitch. “Also I can’t get drunk.” He adds as an afterthought and she resists the urge to regress to her inner 5 year old and stick her tongue out at him.


“You are the only werewolf I know that likes to drink for the taste of it, and not for the aftereffects.” She says, elbows hitting the surface of the table while she signals the waitress for a glass of … fuck she doesn’t even know.

He snorts into his glass, half mocking half amused. “I am the only werewolf you know.”

“Ruin a good observation why don’t you.” She pouts, and accepts the glass that’s brought to her with a tight smile.

“I aim to please.” He says then, eyes trailing away from her as she takes a too large gulp of her drink – head thrown back, the long column of her neck exposed and vulnerable – maybe she is evil, because a small part of her needs to know this makes him uncomfortable. “Who’s on the hit list ?” he asks suddenly, cutting through the serene little mirage she relished in enjoying.

“Can’t an old friend come hang out with you without it being business?” she asks then, a small disproving frown tugging at her brows because this? This hurts. It is true though, she did come out to give him work … but the reality that their interactions as of late have been nothing but a kill schedule … stings.

“And did you?” he asks and she doesn’t reply, but something on her face must betray the hurt because his face suddenly softens, almost apologetically. “I didn’t mean-“

“You did.” She says quietly and picks at the edge of her glass “And if that’s the conclusion you came too then I have no right to blame you for it.”

“You know I don’t-“

“You do.” She says, and he falls quiet after that, frowning darkly at his glass like it’s the source of all evil on the planet.

“Not all the time.” He adds a minute of solid silence later, and she smiles sadly at it. Because this is the best they can have right now, the only thing they can afford for now.

“We’re almost there though.” She smiles, and turns her eyes towards the entrance, eyeing the new figures “Besides, we have to put on a show tonight. We’re even graced by royalty.” She chuckles into her glass just as Derek turns and frowns at the young demon and her father by the door.

“Oh … joy.”

As she predicted the night turned out to be indeed interesting, for the better part of course – never mind that her dad was constantly vanishing to hell knows where, either that or he would ditch her for women. The other part of the night Amelie would be assaulted by women and men alike, bringing a feeling of disgust up her mouth, reason why she would glare at them as if they were made of holy water.

To sum everything up to one word – horrible. The interesting part that I had mentioned earlier was just circling one wee word, which even at the given moment, she couldn’t understand the meaning behind it or rather how it turned out to be so awkward.

Had she been aware that she was the daughter of the oldest, almost bordering on ancient, demon alive, everything would seem much more obvious, but when that little girl blinked confused every time someone would approach her with a simple ‘My Lady’ then rumors unleashed quick through the club.

Bernhard chuckled under his hand as the other one raised the half empty glass of alcohol towards her before chatting animatedly with no one other than Papa Midnite.

“You haven’t told her?” he asked in awe, his eyes glancing wide towards Amelie who was frowning deep in their direction.

“Not yet.” Her dad smiled throwing a glance opposite her where a couple was sitting quietly. “I rather let her find out by herself.” Eyes focused harder over the couple.

“Who are they?” Papa turned towards the direction Bernhard looked.

“Ah. The girl is frequenting this place once in a while. Nothing to worry about.” He waved, bringing the glass at his lips and emptying.

“It’s bothering me. They have been staring towards Amelie for some time now.” His finger dug in the ice, using it to stir the cubes while his eyes locked on the melting ice. “And I can’t hear her.” He pressed over the word while eyeing the older man. A white eyebrow rose at that, his lips pulling into a smirk.

“Getting old eh?”

“Oh go to hell.” Bernhard snapped.

“Been there son.” The laugh escaped his throat as he got up. A hand rested on Bernhard shoulder, giving a slight squeeze. “Don’t worry, no one means harm as long as I’m here.”

Bernhard watched the man go before his eyes turned back to the couple. “That’s the problem.” He mumbled to himself.


Amelie was growing uneasy with each minute. Everywhere she looked there were eyes watching her every movement. It’s as if everyone made a point that something was wrong with her, herself being the only one unaware of that fact.

It was disturbing – moreover her father disappeared from his spot, forcing that uneasy feeling to grow even stronger.



“Hello.” She jumped at the voice, turning around to find a tall young man. His blond hair reached his wide shoulders and those green eyes glowed disturbing. “Sorry if I startled you.” That smile didn’t settle well with Amelie, nevertheless she pulled a visibly forced smile back. “It’s ok.” Her eyes searched for her father.

“Looking for someone?” the man asked, stretching two fingers in front of the bartender.

“Aaa – no – I mean yes.” She paused eyeing him closely. He was far taller than her and she suddenly regretted joining the conversation so openly.

Her eyes didn’t miss the smirk he gave as she eyed him from up to bottom. “My name is Leah.” A hand stretched out, hers twitching slightly at her side before hesitantly bringing it to shake it. “Amelie.” She breathed out as electricity shot up her arm, red eyes flashing in an instant before hissing at him.

“Ah sorry, I usually have that effect on people.” the smile grew larger.



“Amelie.” She turned towards the voice. “Dad!” she screamed louder than she ever meant before turning towards the man only to find the spot empty. “Wha-“

“Who was that?” she heard his father say. Her body shrugged. “I don’t know. An angel.” She stated her eyes still on the spot. She never saw her father’s eyes flash crimson red which send a murderous feeling around.

“Cute” he hums into his drink before taking a calculated sip. “Daddy has claws.” He adds, making a face to the empty bottom of his glass. He is purposely ignoring the sidelong glance she is throwing his way, and perhaps on some level this bothers her more than she cares to admit.

“He tried to read me.” She says as an afterthought, removing her sight off him and settling on the scene in front of her.

“Glitches can’t be read.” He says, unnecessarily.

“I know.” She says bitterly. He looks at her then, slowly, finally, deliberately settling his eyes on her with a look that should say ‘You’re far too young to think of yourself wiser’, but suspects it comes off far too fond if the small tug at the corner of her lips is anything to go by.

“You shouldn’t be able to feel you are read.” He clarifies, and smirks triumphantly at the confused crease between her brows. Secretly, he always took pleasure in seeing her like this – the small tug of her brows, the way her nose scrunched in confusion. It always made her look younger than she was.

“What do you mean –“ she tried to ask, but his disinterested shrug cuts her off. He has no interest in this subject, it translates – and she knows better than to push him into revealing information he is not ready to part with. “I hate you a little bit.” She says petulantly, grumbling into the bottom of her class before signalling the bartender for more. He turns to Derek, one brow raised in a silent question to which the werewolf simply nods .

“Lace it with wolfsbane .” he grunts, and the bartender nods sympathetically – and for a second if feels like they rekindled an unspoken bond, like parents in a playground catching glances towards one another, understanding without question each other’s brat induced headache. He wonders briefly if he should perhaps care more about whatever the fuck kind of situation would drive a demon Halfling to shoot him sympathetic looks , but then he thinks better of it. Derek doesn’t do caring, not on things that aren’t worth it. And the ones that are, are so very few now-a-days.

Speaking of which …

“Wolfsbane … really?” the indignation in her tone is so vibrant that Derek thinks for a moment that he could actually feel it roll over him, crashing into his chest like a wave against a cricket old dam – just enough pressure to shake it, just enough pressure to make him consider cancelling his drink. But no. He still had some autonomy, dam it.

“If I want to get drunk I will get drunk. If I want I get buzzed I will get buzzed. Either way, it’s none of your fucking business. “ he snaps, and adds unthinkingly “I do enough for you as it is. Just let me enough one fucking think in my life.” He regrets it as soon as he says it. Her eyes widen and then drop in the span of a second, and the smell of misery and guilt rolls off her like waves. She doesn’t say anything for a long while after that, and if Derek wasn’t silently and actively listening for her heartbeat he while pretending to enjoy his laced drink, he could sear she’s vanished into the ether.

There is a tinny, almost inaudible voice in his head now. It’s screaming faintly into the background at him, begging him to apologies, to make this right. To say something, say anything!

“They don’t like us.” He says instead, aiming for a change of subject and hopping that she would take the olive branch. He head snaps, and her eyes instantly focus on the pair of demon royalty.

“Do they now?” she hums in thought, and he instantly knows she’s already reconsidering all of her options.

“This could make your job a bit more difficult.” He adds, silently thanking the lord that she never holds grudges, even if he apparently does. Derek is an idiot. He will admit to that freely now.

“Nothing ever worth having ever came easy.” She replies simply, almost reciting an exempt from the teachings of Derek Hale himself. He refuses to feel pride. He most definitely does not feel proud.

“That angel though ...” he hums into his drink, and wonders just how far he’d managed to flap his wings too before Midnites would stick his fingers through his chest. „It takes balls to make an all-out attack on the princes.”

“Princes?” she asks with a sadistic little smirk “I don’t think anyone let her in to that little secret yet.”

Her hand still tingled as she glanced at it while twitching it once in a while. Odd things were happening and she let a snicker escape her mouth unwillingly as she thought about it further. The fact that her dad was throwing worried looks hadn’t made the feeling go but rather increasing doubly.


“Stop staring dad. I can literally feel it poking at me.” Her eyes rolled as she turned towards the dancing mob, glass in hand to diminish the feeling.

Bernhard sighed but did as he was told ordering a couple of shots. One good thing about being a demon was that it took a very large amount of alcohol to even get to that stage of drunkenness.

“I’m concerned.” He simply mumbled into his glass.

“It won’t make it any better.” Amelie replied fast before frowning at him. “Wait for what?” she eyed him leaning in slightly bit. At that Bernhard blinked back innocently. “For being your father?” he half asked half stated as if he wasn’t sure if the answer would please her; which it didn’t, obviously, as she growled at him.

“Ok look, things – weird things – happened here and I think I might deserve just a tiny bit of explanation, don’t you think?” her hand was brought up in front of her face, the index finger and the thumb closing in to make a point.

“Define ‘tiny bit’, because there are a lot of possibilities of how I can interpret it.”

“DAD!” she threw her hands in the air desperately, watching him with wide eyes, before she brought one of them to pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “First everyone is referring me as ‘my lady’ – which by the way puts me in a very VERY awkward situation” her index pointed in front of her father “ – then people starts staring at me; because, really, that is fucking awkward-“

“Amelie language.” He adopted a serious face even though behind it Bernhard could barely keep the laugh from coming out.

“The women and men starts HITTING on me!” her eyes grew larger as she pointed a finger towards her.

“Wait who hit on you?” Bernhard got up from his stool, glancing around with a frown.

“Gah you are impossible!” her body turned towards the bar as she almost banged her forehead on the bar. “Whatever, I’m going home.” She spat the words in his face grabbing her jacket.

“Ok ok sorry.” His hand grabbed her arm right before she was almost lost in the mass of people.


Amelie was tired of all the games her dad was throwing around, feeling as if he almost didn’t cared how she felt. She was confused and tired – mentally – and probably a bit tipsy as her vision blurred and her head buzzed.

On the other side, Bernhard was mentally kicking himself in the balls for trying to delay ‘the talk’. Maybe it hadn’t been such a brilliant idea to bring her here. She wasn’t ready to hear the truth, let alone unlock her abilities. He looked at her; so fragile, small and too beautiful for her own good and for a second his eyes flashed red as he recalled the angel that almost attacked her. Something was off, half of his mind cursing his mistake, half of it glad for showing her to the world; or rather their world.
They sat back on their tools, facing each other and he took in her posture. She was tired, he could tell, not by reading her mind which by the way it pained to hear, for once in his life wishing he was free of it, but from the way her skin grew paler, even under the red lights, and by the forming black bags under her gorgeous eyes.

His hand reached her cheek to brush gently the skin. At the touch she leaned further in, her lips pulling into a smile.

“My princess.” He smiled back as she opened her eyes to reveal two bright red marbles.

“I heard that word as well couple of times.” She chuckled resting her head on the bar.

“Because you are a Princess.” He stated, no longer thinking about the consequences that would follow. Her eyes opened more, her features growing more serious forming a frown.

Bernhard sighed. “We should go home and we can talk there.” He smiled sadly. Amelie nodded again grabbing her jacket and letting her father lead the way.


They were almost two feet away when light engulfed half of the place and then the chaos unleashed.

It happens as most of the shitty things that tend to happen in Derek’s life: suddenly and without warning. All hell breaks loose and it catches him off guard, giving him barely enough afterthought to supress the urge to wolf out in bare his fangs at whatever the fuck just struck them. He’s towering in front of Eve before he realizes what he’s doing, growling low in his throat in the general direction of where he thinks the threat might be. Because he still doesn’t know what it was, still can’t pinpoint it – and he’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s operating on pure instinct at this point.

“Did you do this?” he  grunts over his shoulder, because this feels like something she would do; the sudden rush of an attack, the malefic tendency of catching her opponent with their proverbial pants down - he loves and hates that his first though is to assume this has her MO written all over it.

“No.” she murmurs just low enough for his ears and his ear only “I’m not even sure what exactly hit us.” He looks at her over his shoulder, and manages to catch a glimpse of wide eyes and a fain trail of blood that’s dipping down her forehead – ah, he realizes tardily, they were pushed back into a wall, almost like an … “An aftershock.” She whispers, fingers brushing over the bloody trail and smearing it over her forehead and away from her eyes; he feels his eyes blaze blue, and an uncontrollable growl settle deep in his throat. She got hurt on his watch. He decides then that whoever was responsible would leave Midnites’ in pieces.  “Relax.” She says, and moves to his side. “This isn’t a demons MO though. Which means …” She trails her eyes forward, and he sniffs - the smell of ozone finally hitting him.

“Angels.” He snarls and snaps his eyes to the now visible crater that was denting the dance floor. There, in the middle of the unsettled dust and the odd serenade of panicked screams and unsheathed snarls, a pair of heavy wings unwound  and stretched themselves over their owner. He was tall, as most of them are, slender and pale, with a peculiar bone structure that made him neither appealing nor displeasing to the eyes. He downed the cliché white suit with a baby blue tie, and Derek couldn’t help snort at the irony of something so destructive wearing something that placating. His eyes are blue, because of course they would be blue, but his hair though? His hair is bright, inhumanly vibrant, red.

“That’s funny –“ a voice starts, and he’s startled to realize it’s neither his of Eve’s, but the piss poor excuse of a deporter that keep hanging around his - … hanging around Eve. “Here I thought that it was Luci that finally came to give us a little house call. “ he says, and it sounds both friendly and disgusted at the same time. Derek will have to commend him for accomplishing that later on. “When all along it was his little idiot brother … sporting team colours are we now, Gabriel?” he adds, two fingers idly pointing to his own hair for clarification, and Gabriel just smirks.

“Lucy would never take on a male host.” He replies and takes a step forward, while the rest of the club takes a collective step back. Archangels, Derek thinks with a heavy dose of apprehension. “As for team colours?” he smirks and throws his head back in a way that makes his throat seem long and his stance powerful. “Michael’s gone heighwire, Dad’s off sleeping until you lot grow up, and heaven? Heaven needs a new guardian.”

“And let me guess.” It’s Eve’s that speaks next, and Derek fights the urge to grab her grist and fling her behind him because the kid always has a knack at putting her foot in her mouth in front of the wrong people. “Did that job fall to you by default ? Or did you have to beg your big bro for guidance?”

“I like you.” The thing in a human meatsuit says and turns his body towards her “You’re ballsy for a glitch. I can see why Lucifer likes you, even if you’re trying to backstab him.”

“He knows of that does he?” she takes a brave step forward and Dereks hand flies without thought and latches to her writs to pull her back. Of course the angel notices, of course. Because this is their life, and nothing ever came easy for them.

“I’d listen to your guard dog little girl. The fact that Lucifer finds you endearing will not stop me from making your insides come out from both ends just for the hell of it.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be the kind one out of the douchebag squad?” Constantine adds, unhelping, and Derek can’t help the silent ‘Jesus Christ, really?’ that comes out of him. Because, were they actively trying to get killed?

“Think of it this way, deporter. I am.” He turns his back away from them then, ignoring the peasantry and focusing his sights on the very pissed off looking man in the far end corner of the room. “Midnite, always a pleasure.”

“You dare?! In my house?!” the man’s think creole accent gruffers over his own rage, his dark complexion seemingly glowing under the flickering and broken neon lights “You know the rules of my house! Not one ounce of blood is spilled under my roof!” Gabriel simply smiles wider.

“I haven’t spilled any.” He singsongs, then throws a glance over his shoulder at Eve, and Derek can feel his heckles raising even higher “Except for hers, but that was a necessity. You know how it goes; for an angel to manifest into the realm of the living, bla bla, blood of an innocent blab la, bound to an angel bla .” his hand waves off each sentence dismissively. “Bureaucracy. It will give you a head ache let me tell ya.”

“What do you mean bound to an angel?” she can’t help herself from asking, and Derek is seriously considering pinning a hand over her mouth until this shit is dealt with.

“Not my story to tell sweetheart.” He throws over his shoulder before looking back at the establishments proprietor  “Midnite … hear me.” He leers, and steps forward, voice menacing and otherworldly “The time for neutrality is coming to an end. I am the vanguard and messenger of the new order. Pick your sides and bow to us, or stand firm and fight against us. Because kids? Heaven’s under new management.” He finishes off with a hint of smartassey that has Midnite clenching his fists while the archangel flaps his wings for emphasis. “As for you … He says and looks towards the demonic royalty “Lucy send his thanks, with the annotation that you’ve let the power run to your head in his absence. Depending on his mood he might decide to cull the demon families … and depending on your answer he might start with yours, duke.”

Let’s take a moment and talk about the life behind the veil for a second.

You see, you are currently living in one half of a whole. The other is divided in two equal parts, and has been so ever since Luci decided that she had to prove something to her old man. We are using SHE loosely here; because although your books and legends depict Lucifer as male, most of the time Lucifer prefers to use a female form. It doesn’t really matter, or at the very least it shouldn’t matter – angels were never really built to fall into the stereotypes of gender classification like the rest of the planet was. Most don’t even bother taking on an actual shape let alone a gender specific body as their own – but hey, this is Lucifer, she thrives in pissing God off. So she had her little temper tantrum, tried to overtake heaven, and God kicked her out and locked her away.  At least, that’s what your bible tells you.

The reality of it is a little bit more complicated than that, but for what it’s worth the writer will try and convey the simplest way in passing the information along.

Once upon a time this place was divided in two: the human realm and the world behind the borders. It was never really called Heaven back then – the idea of this etherworld was limited to it housing everything inhuman or otherworldly. Good and bad alike. Among the echelon of the ether were the ‘old guard’; beautiful, powerful entities especially created by God to watch over the rest of his creations and … guide them. You know them as angels, we know them as douchebags – but we’ll further elaborate on that as we go on.  Mîkhā'ēl, or Michael as you know him now, was their leader. God’s favourite among favourites; strong, powerful, a bit of an elitist; but overall fair and just to his kind. He was seconded by Heylel, or more colloquially known as Lucifer, the wayward narcissistic black sheep of the family. Then came Gaḇrîʼēl,  Rāfāʾēl, Uriʾel, Ragu’el, Râmîêl, and lastly Sariel – or Gabriel, Rafael, Uriel, Raguel, Ramie, and Sariel, as you all know them.
God gave them free reign of Heaven, and then went to sleep until his creations were deemed old enough for him to proceed with part two of his plan – don’t ask me what it is, nobody ever got close enough to him to know.  But suffice it to say that he locked heaven, and left a tiered warning to his first born that if the heavens fall under threat for him to be awakened.
This was perhaps his first mistake.

Give a bunch of children enough matches to play with and they will eventually set themselves on fire. Give a bunch of otherworldly entities enough power to feasibly implode a sun and it will go to their head. And it did. They turned from protectors to bullies in the span of a few ether minutes. They became the elite and their word and mandates dictated life beyond the veil. The rest of the ethers population fearfully went along with it, until –eons later- the very idea of a god was …questionable.

Things didn’t  stay calm for too long after that..

Let’s put it this way:

You know how when you’re in school, you look on to the little shits’ you’re about to spend nearly a decade with, and can pretty much tell who among them will grow into his potential douchebag? Lucifer was like that. Always craving power, always yearning to prove herself. It only took a push, a little nudge, and no one will ever really know what or who that nudge was, but it was enough.

Lucifer tried a valiant fourteen times to overtake not just heaven but humanity itself. And by try fourteen, tiered and on his last bit of strength Michael  did the unthinkable – he woke up his father up. And just like that, with a snap of a finger Lucifer was kicked out of heaven, and her followers given a special little partition with a steamy new décor to frolic in. She, however, never got locked away in hell; things like Luci are a bit too tough to chew out completely. And no matter how hard they tried to deatomize her time after time after time she always came back; always had somebody to bring her back. The thing about entities as strong as Lucifer is, that if you have at even half an ounce of her essence left behind you could feasibly rebuild  her from her last setting. The ritual is longsuffering and tedious , and often times would kill the one casting it, but she’d come back. And she always did.

She stopped being an actual threat maybe five thousand years ago; people expect the token bad guy to do bad – the element of surprise being  sadly lost somewhere in the middle – and hey, where’s the fun in that? But boredom is a terrible thing for the old guard, and on a rare occasion of temporary truce God went and met with his wayward ‘daughter’. He came in the form of a young child; downed in simple brown robes that were threadbare towards the edges. She came in the form she always preferred: a pale skinned young woman, with fiery hair and emerald green eyes. She came dressed in nothing, the last form of defiance to an already tiered father.

Their eyes flashed yellow as was the way of greeting between old entities and they began to talk. Speculations very on the nature of their talk, on the length or the general mood of it. But at the end of it a bet was made that had humanity as its cherished  commodity.

Soon after God went back to slumber, and Lucifer? Well she began to plot.

Ever had this horrible feeling of being entirely trapped with no way of escape what-so-ever? Because let’s face it, when one of the most, probably on top of the list, powerful entities kindly threatens your family to dissolve it from the face of the earth, would send a shiver even to the strongest man, or demon, in our case. Let’s forget for a moment that we are talking about a demon here, a dark soul, living only to see sorrow and agony, planting them into the very center of any human kind existing; completely erase it from your mind and see what is left: a father. The same idea goes for them as well: protect that little part of you with everything you’ve got, no matter how dark, light, bad, good, ugly or beautiful it is. It’s a part of your blood, a part of your very self. Of course this pattern doesn’t go for everyone, and you remain with this question; which one of them is the real demon here?


Bernhard’s lips closed into a straight, thin line as he weighted the consequences of every answer he could give. His hands opened and closed, fingers twitching nervously. He could attack the angel right then and there, but what would happen after? Gabriel’s mind was blank, he wasn’t stupid, and he had to give the angel some credit. He felt a hand gripping his jacket from behind.

‘Dad, what’s happening?’ his jaw tightened and he swore that everyone heard the loud cracking sound it made. Amelie. She was the reason he left that bloody Gekkai, he wanted to give her a better life, normal, but he failed, because that’s the nature of a dark soul; to suffer and agonize for eternity. He didn’t want her to feel any of what he felt. Fangs sank into his inner lip, tasting the ironed liquid while scarlet eyes closed tight.

“Tell my dear Lucy that I shall pay her a visit to personally give my answer.” He replied raising his head high as he slowly opened his eyes to reveal their normal brown color. A smirk made its way to the surface, so kind that if possible hell could freeze over. It was a stupid answer, but it earned him time to put up a plan. He could feel eyes widening from his left as Midnites shout roared in his mind.


“Are you insane Schlaue!” it was indeed insane, but the only way. Gabriel smirked then he was gone.


In a flash Midnite grabbed Bernhard’s hand, burning it with rage. “You will not do anything, you listen? She needs you, we have no choice but join them.” The whisper burn into his ear as a tattoo needle, making sure it will stay there and slap some sense into his immature brain.

Bernhard winced, yet that smile stood there, plastered on his face as if he was expecting his old friend to act this way. “She will have you.” The statement backed Midnite off in an instant, leaving him with raised eyebrow.


“Dad…” they were interrupted, the stare between them lingering for a moment, before Bernhard broke it to glance at his daughter. “It’s ok sweety, just a misunderstanding between the sides.” He smiled, exchanging a look with Midnite.
“Amelie, may I talk to you for a moment?” Midnite smiled, throwing a hand over her shoulders and walking away.


There was a sigh before his eyes flashed red. He turned towards the big mouth trio and marched in their direction.


“I believe we have something in common miss and I would like to have a word with you?” he threw a pointed look at the small girl.





Midnite walked silent over the bar, followed closely by an equally silent Amelie, or what was left of it, nodding towards the bartender, who in return narrowed his eyes yet, never-the-less he poured his boss two glasses.
Everyone looked confused; whispers filled the entire place, curses and swears being thrown here and there. The fact that most of them were ready to fight, stirred anger inside the dark skinned man, but he found it hard to utter any demands after what had happened, so instead he just stood there, glass in hand and eyes roaming around. After some time he decided to break the silence that settled over the two.


“This is a very dangerous game your father is playing.” His eyes focused on a pair of angels. They were scared, being surrounded by demons and other supernatural beings. “Serves them right.” He snickered.

“Excuse me?” Amelie watched him perplexed as if he had said the most horrible thing ever.

“You see, I always hated angels. Probably is the nature, I don’t know, but there is something that disturbs me about them.” He took a sip of his drink before pointing his chin towards them. Amelie followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. She clearly didn’t understand. Midnite sighed.

“They pretend being all nice and kind, but at the end of the day they are nothing but a bunch of assholes.” He snorted in disgust. “They will sell themselves for anything.”

Amelie watched him perplexed, her eyes shifting between the angels and the man she barely knew. Was it even safe to be here? Her eyes searched for her father which was currently being growled at by a werewolf. Her hands pushed her body from the chair only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry.” Midnite smiled watching her.

“What do you mean?” he voice took a higher note as she watched the werewolf grabbing her father’s jacket.

“How about, I tell you something that you may find revealing?” midnite asked, pressing her down on the chair. She obeyed silentl, her eyes still glued on the scene ahead of her.

“I heard that you have a hard time understanding why everyone is referring to you as “Princess or Lady?” he smiled when her head snapped back at him. Amelie nodded.


“Well, as you know the three Dukes of Hell: Beelzebub, Azazel and Astaroth. All are falling right under Lucifer in power, or Lucy as you heard earlier. There is a whole history behind every one of them and to be honest, I don’t want to get into details so let us talk about one of them: Azazel. In hell he used to be the top security of hell and a very close demon to Lucifer.” he took a moment to watch her face. Amelie was watching him with narrowed eyes and he just wondered if it was his place to tell this story or not.


“When the bet was made between god and devil, Azazel was sent on earth to get more power in the name of his king, or at least to gather as many followers as possible, so he joined Gekkai: a very powerful force able to subjugate everyone and everything. He became a strong demon among them but he met this demoness, a succubus. She was a strong woman and of course everyone would fall at her feet. It was inevitable, eventually the two getting married. They both made their way almost to the top of the Gekkai, earning power, fame, but it was not too long after and she got pregnant with a child. The succubus panicked, understanding the meaning of having a family, but Azazel became too soft comparing to her and she realized it. They would never become the heads of the Gekkai and something changed within her. She earned for power, being drove close to insanity that eventually she forced the child out of her womb. Azazel broke the binding they made at the wedding, sending her away from him, remaining alone with a child that barely had chances of survival.” He paused again taking a sip of his glass.


“I have been friends with your father for a long time now, I have seen the agony he went through many times and still is led by this feeling. We were both part of Gekkai, but I decided to become neutral to both sides and so I have opened this place where everyone would come and go as they pleased, without leaving the place in pieces.” He took a time to watch the place and almost laughed hard at the ironic change of fate. “Azazel is your father, Bernhard, but in his true form Amelie. And I am your Godfather.” Amelie’s head turned slowly towards the man and blinked. “That night when you were born, the doctors gave you no chance of survival: a premature born child with no mother to help you find your way; but something happened, a turn of page and you were healthy and going.” He laughed, deciding this part should be better not said.


Amelie watched her hands, sinking in the information, barely believing any of it. “So I am the daughter of Azazel?” she almost laughed at the words that came from her mouth. Her eyes rose to watch Midnite who nodded in return. There was a smile plastered on his lips before it fell. “There is more to be said, but…” he pause watching Bernhard. “I believe it’s his place to continue.” Amelie turned her eyes and watched her father.


It made a lot of sense now, yet her mind was flooded with a wave of questions that she could barely find an answer. She decided to wait.

The snarl he lets out when Midnite approaches is involuntary, feral, and utterly uncalled for – and by the look Eve is quietly giving him, he failed to impress anyone in the room with it. Midnite though raises a single brow, the sweat glistening off of it in a semi-mocking manner that manages to piss off Derek just enough to make him bare his teeth at him.

“There is nothing to talk about.” He snarls, his fingers tightening around Eve’s slender wrist, and for the first time since the dark skinned man approached them, he realizes that he hasn’t let go of her since Gabriel vanished into thin fucking air.

“I have no time for your petulance.” The witchdoctor says side eyeing the growl send his way.

“Petulance ?” Derek asks, incredulously, while his lips twitch in a half controlled smirk “Midnite, level with me here – you smoked something and you’re feeling lucky.”

“You might be over a thousand years old but you are not above me putting you over my knee.” The man says, and yeah maybe a part of Derek is willing to admit that on a playing field Midnite might be able to go one on one with him. Might. The fact that he remembers vaguely that he might owe his life to him doesn’t help his ego in the moment.

“Fuck off old man.” He chooses to answer with, pulling the girl he vowed would never see this side of his world next to him like a ragdoll. She has been uncharacteristically quiet, and from his peripheral he can see her examining him and the rest of the group closely. She chooses mostly to focus on him, and Derek has to tramp down on the way that very fact makes his stomach feel lighter than it should have any business of feeling.

“It has everything to do with you.” He man says quietly, his thick accent seeping through every crack of his control “The girl-“

“Just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time –“ Derek interrupts

“Or the right time.” He hears Constantine murmur in the background, and thinks happy thoughts and puppy dog tails in order to calm down on the need to eviscerated the deporter.

“REGARDLESS –“ He throws over his shoulder, a bit of fang poping from underneath his lip “I am making an executive decision here. She is my charge, and she is never going to get mixed in with angels.” He says, perhaps too vehemently because Midnite just shakes his head in disappointment and take s a few steps forward, speaking in a low voice like he is trying to placate a wild animal. Grotesquely , Derek thinks he very well might be.

“Titan, that ship had already sailed.” And it’s spoken so regretfully, so softly that Derek can feel his blood draining at the realization “And as the charge of a titan, even more so – the charge of a great beat, she should at the very least be protected appropriately from now on.”

“Why.” And everyone freezes at the simple and soft spoken question. She’d been so quiet a part of Derek may have very well forgotten she was there. Her eyes are wide when she looks at Midnite with what can only be described as abject determination. There’s a hint of blue that seems to shine beneath the neon’s, and beneath the façade he can hear her heart trampling out of control.

“Excuse me ?” Midnite asks disbelievingly .

“You are excused.” She says simply, and Derek chokes on air trying to hold in the just of laughter that just hit him. Midnite
though doesn’t seem that impressed, not that Eve seems to care “Why am I in danger ?” and Midnite smirks.

“Because, my dear girl, he spilled your blood to get here.”

“And?” her brows tug slowly in confusion, and Derek tries not to whimper at the answer he knows she’s receive.

“Angels can cross over through riffs, through portals, through special places that have weaker barrier. Or … through the blood of an innocent that was bound to one from birth.” Her eyes widen as he speaks, the information sinking little by little.

“But, glitches don’t belong to –“

“To either side. Yes I know.” Midnite says, throwing a knowing looks towards Derek while Derek internally groans. This is not the way he wanted to have this talk.

“Derek?” she asks, and the insecurity and vulnerability in her voice makes his heart break.

“He’s right. They don’t belong to any side, unless … Unless they were made on purpose.”

“What?” her eyes dart between the two, silently searching for answers to questions she can’t even put into proper words yet.

“You were made by one of them, for whatever purpose. Which means, that right now you are as involved as as important to this mess as much as that little demon girl and her father are.

Well, shit.

“Hey.” Bernhard waved cautiously at his daughter as soon as he was in her area of hearing, taking the seat where Midnite sat previously. The talk didn’t go well, but it didn’t get to what he was expecting either. While the demon was expecting a gruesome end, all bloody and ugly , the children behaved, brushing him off kindly; or at least as kindly as possible, except the part where that pup grabbed his very expensive shirt. With Midnite there of course they would behave, so Bernhard did the unthinkable; he asked for help, which of course earned a very surprised eyebrow from Midnite when the question invaded his mind.

Now he was watching closely the scene in front of him. Truth to be told, Bernhard needed them. No, she needed them. His eyes eventually fell on the person next to him and he mentally cringed at the flow of questions invading her mind. Struggling to keep them away, he broke the flow when his hand touched hers, startling Amelie who raised her eyes towards him.


“Dad.” The whisper brought a series of feelings inside him and he cursed at the turn of events. The conversation she had earlier with Midnite, because Bernhard had heard every single word, visibly changed the girl.

He stood there watching her, squeezing his brain for something, anything to just start a conversation and for the first time he felt at a loss of words. There was so much to think about, plans to make on how to have her safe and as far away from Lucifer as possible. Then there was the fact that she wasn’t even mentally and physically prepared for what was about to come. Her powers were sealed inside, immature and weak. Amelie needed time, and he didn’t have it.


“Fuck.” Eyes went wide when he heard his voice, earning a look from his daughter.

He saw the smile plastered on her face, his own blooming and seconds later they were grinning at each other.

“I’ve been saying the same thing all the night.” She rubbed a spot under her nose.

“Yeah, well you know, shit happens.” He shrugged, letting go of her hand to stretch over the bar and snatch whatever bottle was in his way; rum. He smirked.

“What do you know, your favorite!” he grinned, hearing a sniff.

“What’s going to happen?” she chocked, clearly on the edge of breaking, but none-the-less keeping her posture high.
Amelie heard a deep sigh from her right and she chuckled. “Honestly this is the first time you actually don’t have an answer right?” her eyes locked on her dad’s face. He was tired, the black bangs slowly accentuating as days passed, his shoulders low as if something was weighting on them; but all these were almost invisible to the naked eye. You had to know the person to realize and so far her father had hid this fact successfully, but now; now she felt as if he was at his limits. She sneaked her hand under his, bringing it to her cheek. “I love you dad.” At that Bernhard’s heart jumped a little. He longed for moments like this because he could count on one hand just how many times she said those three little words; they were total of three proud times, but when she would say them, he would get younger with ten thousand years.


“Thank you.” he whispered. She gave him strength. She was his strength.

Amelie stood with closed eyes, lost in her thoughts. “You would leave.” It was not a question and she already knew the answer, but maybe, just maybe, that little part of her that strongly hoped he would stay, would make Bernhard change his mind.

“Soon.” He replied, watching Midnite. “I have to fix things for you before.”

“Why?” she rested her head on his shoulder starring ahead at nothing specific.

He took his time to form a proper answer but before he could say anything the next question hit him straight through his chest.

“Why am I still alive?” there was a question that she meant to ask as soon as she found out the truth, or half of it , and by the way her father tensed against her head, she understood that the other half of the whole would be revealed a lot later than she hoped. “Forget it.” Her voice was flat, with no emotion in it.

“Amelie!” he shouted after her as she marched towards Midnite and the other three. “Fuck.” And that’s how, in a matter of seconds, he saw his daughter close inside herself. Somewhere in his heart, Bernhard could not find a way to forgive his self for the pain he would put her through from now on.

Strictly speaking, Derek didn’t have what you would traditionally call ‘a plan’. He never did. Sure, he analysed and came up with the perfect course of action 90% of the time, but while his margin of error was low that didn’t mean he was the type to plan ahead. In fact, though he’d perhaps choose to deny it, Derek Hale was perhaps the most avid believer against the idea of making plans – firmly convinced that once you set one in motion some form of karmic bitchslap will inevitably find you.

He wasn’t exactly wrong. The balance was ruled with an iron fist most of the time, and a detached sense of righteousness the rest of the time. The entities in charge of it were so above his paygrade, that for most of his life he chose to think of them as mythical rather than physical. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t there: Fate, Karma, and perhaps some of the seven deadly sins, they were all very much real and very much bored. So Derek chose to stay under their radar, because once you know how the game is played you can play it against the home team. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think he’s come out on top of this strategy, mind you, but then again he didn’t need too – al he needed was to buy enough time for her to manage her own consequences. Then maybe he could rest easier. He hoped.

So Derek never planned, never thought of his future or hers, and chose to live each and every single moment of his life in a detached sense of apathetic disinterest that he secretly hoped would somehow keep the bitches off his back. It worked until it didn’t – because in this instance, for this scenario, Derek couldn’t think of a way out.

The reason he chose to approach the nature of Eves existence seemed so very logical when he first found her – a girl made by something otherworldly, a soul that belonged to neither side of the war but was so well engineered that whenever he took the time to look inside the threads of her soul, Derek found it hard to differ between her soul structure and that of a titan. Whenever he looked at it, her soul always shined just a bit brighter, burned just that much hotter than that of a normal glitch.

He knew, of course, from the moment he saw her he knew. He knew what she was made by someone, he knew that on some fundamental level she belonged to something that could someday come and claim collect. He just didn’t think that this day would come so soon, and the feral part of him – the one he always struggled against felt its very core bristle at the thought of anyone taking her away from him. That big, yet hidden, part of him sank its claws in her soul from the moment she smiled at him, and has claimed her as his mate – quietly and only to himself- for just as long. The idea that she could be taken away, put in danger, or worse … end up as some angels plaything made Derek see red.

“You have been keeping thing from me.” She says plainly then, snapping him out of his own lamentations with enough force to give him a heavy dose of whiplash. But he doesn’t look at her, instead he frowns at the little demon that stopped right in front of them and snarls.

“Not now. Not here.” He says, a bit of growl escaping, and the way her entire body seems to sag in disappointment at it makes him want to whine and beg at her feet. Derek is pathetic – he has long come to terms with his disgusting feelings towards her – but that doesn’t mean he’d act on it.

“I understand. “ she says in a way that sounds hollow and detached – and he instantly knows that she somehow blames herself for even assuming well enough to ask. God damn it.

But he can’t focus on this now, he refuses too. Instead he takes a deliberate step forward and plants himself an immovable wall in front of her, keeping her way from the demon. “What do you want?” he asks plainly and perhaps too harshly, and silently Eves hand squeezes his with enough force to ground him – but she doesn’t pull him back, and Derek thinks that maybe … just maybe, she understand this part of him better than he does.

I believe sometimes, each and one of you sit down and wonder about what have you done until now; the good and the bad, which one should be fixed and which should be left in the hands of Fate; how would the chain of events change if you would have done differently; what would be the result if you had spoken the right words…there are questions and there are possibilities of changing, more or less, depending the amount of damage or right that was done. To say that a person had committed sins is overrated. It depends from person to person and the reason they had done it. To be protected from evil? To give a life filled with happiness to the one’s you love? The sins would then change into necessity and as long as you get to sleep at night with no remorse then being called a sinful person is as equal as being called good person.

Bernhard had never had this issue; as long as the person he cherished had nothing to do with it, and as long as that smile kept on showing everyday as a sun keeps rising, then there was nothing to worry about. There had been only one time where the thought of Amelie finally finding the truth brought those questions to the surface, but were soon brushed off by the mere certainty that it will never get to be known. However, once again, the overwhelming feeling of failure born through him and he could barely contain his panic. It was as if his whole life commitment of keeping the whole truth from Amelie had been broken down to nothing; and so he roared.


The ground and walls cracked, glasses shredding into pieces, the wave of power pulsing through the closed space, swirling to find a way of escape. And he re-born.


“Bernhard!” there was a scream of his name as his body twisted and turned, eyes flashing brilliant red and a smile, so wicked and sick that could freeze even the strongest soul. And then there was silence.
Where Bernhard Schalue was standing not few minutes ago, a tall, thin man, with wings that could be easily mistaken with those of a bat, crouched on the ground as if it was ready to attack. The face was hidden, but it gave less to imagination of how it could look only by the way his skin appeared to be a sickly brown color. His hair grew long over his shoulders, a dark red and sleek. The arm that helped him keep balance was finished with long, sharp nailed fingers that were black as if painted.



Amelie was staring, she knew she was staring. Her mouth was shaped in an ‘o’ just as identical as her hazel colored eyes. To her side stood closely Midnite, and by the looks of his face, it was nothing good. She wondered just how much she would see tonight and if her father was still, well, her father. She took a step forward when a hand pulled her back.

“No.” was everything that Midnite said as he instead moved slowly towards Bernhard.

“Bernhard?” he approached slowly, taking baby steps. There was a growl from the man but neither could realize if it was indeed him or someone else. “It’s Midnite.” He pushed as he stopped just a foot before the demon.

“Hahahah…my old friend.” Azazel laughed, finally deciding to finish his repertoire. The body rose from the crouching position and stretched his wings and back. The face was, to everyone’s surprise, acceptable; and young. Amelie frowned deeply, watching the thing as if it was a complete stranger. There were no hints of her father left in those features. She gagged a bit, bringing tears in her eyes that she dismissed as a result from the gagging motion and not because she just lost her father to something horrible as that.

Azazel kept his eyes closed as he sniffed around, smiling large at the thoughts and feelings everyone supplied. The body structure of his face gave off a feeling of innocence, but was soon to be crumbled in pieces when the demon opened his eyes to reveal complete darkness.



“Finally awakened.” His voice was melodious, yet it gave this horrible feeling of despair, which Amelie felt the moment she heard it, forcing her to whimper and back off into someone. When his eyes dropped on her, a shiver ran down her spine and it stood there, sticking her hair painfully in the air. “Ah Amelie, I am very sorry you had to witness such horrible scene, but I am afraid your father is gone.” Azazel smiled, revealing a pair of sharp fangs that went deep in his lower lip. His wings flapped one time and he was in front of her, the smile still plastered over his face. “But he made me promise something, and because he has been such a kind human and took care of me, I feel obliged to keep it.” A clawed hand rose and covered her face, ignoring the flow of tears that began coursing over her cheeks.

“Azazel no, she needs to stay hidden.” Midnite took a step forward but immediately stopped when a pair of black eyes turned towards him.


“It is his request after all, and besides, don’t you think she needs to know who she is? Truly?” that wicked grin returned ten times fold as he laughed louder.


Amelie could not move a finger, she could not even think properly as she stood there, motionless, waiting for who knows what to happen. When the laugh finally finished she saw nothing but black, but not before feeling something strong entering her body she finally collapsed on the floor.


“This was not his plan, but his fear of seeing her despise him took over. Bernhard had no intention to give her to Lucifer, but what was done was done. There is little time before my master will realize she was freed from the seal.” Azazel turned his eyes from the girl towards Midnite.  “Teach her well Midnite and we will soon meet again on the battlefield. I will keep Lucifer off for as long as possible, but it will not be forever.”


Midnite watched as the demon disappeared in a swirl of flames before everything stood still yet again. He ran towards the body and took it in his arms before finally letting his eyes fall on the three remaining humans.


“You would come with me now.” He frowned, heading for the door, wondering how he was supposed to teach her AND explain to them what just happened here.

“I feel like I’m in a damn manga.” He hears her mumble at his side as they all take their respective seats in Midnites’ gloomy little office. It always surprised Derek just how incredibly consistent the man was – if anything he was by all means a creature of habit, because in the decades that he’d known the witchdoctor his choice of establishment had always been the same: warm collared, a bit musky, and filled with enough incense and selected herbs burning that the entire room would sooner resemble a smoker rather than an office. But hey, it was comforting in a sense – at the very least he was a constant in Derek’s life. A constant thorn at his side, but he wasn’t complaining too loudly about it.

“Seriously.” She says suddenly, maybe annoyed that he’s not paying attention but then again that might just be Derek’s wishful side taking a daring leap forward. “If a girl in a sailor suit with cat ears pops out and screams then blushes, I will not be surprised. I refuse to be.” She sulks, arms crossed over her chest and lower lip hanging in a petulant pout. Derek does not find it cute. He doesn’t.

“You’ve spend the last 50 or so years looking like you’ve barely come out of your teens, while harnessing the powers that be into moulding reality to your will. Your master is a werewolf, you spend half your time working for a supernatural crime family that deals in illicit soul trading – and yet the idea of angels suddenly makes all of this seem fiction worthy?” He tries to control the condescending arch of his eyebrow when he dotes on the punch line of his sarcasm, he fears it might be overkill – but judging by the slight shrug he gets back he thinks he made his point come out as clear as possible. Given the circumstances

“Demons I can handle. But angels … that’s a whole new ballpark.” She says, and there’s a hint of something in her tone that makes Derek’s heckles raise.

“Why ?”

“Because.” She starts, locking a pair blues over him that make his blood run cold in his veins “Because this means that all of this time there was somebody there.” She says and turns her eyes towards an imaginary point in the horizon “Somebody that always heard me beg and plead and pray and bargain. They heard me, and they simply chose to not answer.”

He smirks to himself. “Ah.” He nods, the realization that she was far more like him that he cared to admit finally hitting him like a ton of bricks “In this came, ignorance was bliss.”

“As long as I didn’t know that a god was out there, and I mean definitely out there, then all of those times when you got hurt, or when I got in trouble , all of those times I asked him for help … as long as I didn’t know he was out there … then he remained a myth to me. But now?”

“Now you finally get it.” He says plainly, and she nods dumbly before finally returning her eyes on him.

“I get why you hate him.” And Derek smiles.

Midnite sat at his wooden desk and started. He was surrounded by a bunch of inexperience children, if you took his real years in consideration, yes they were children; and the fact that he literally had an infant among them did not make the situation even a bit better. No, the fact that he was supposed to do this on his own was far more than he would ever go for, considering that he knew nothing about those three in front of him, minus the demon, which was lying on a bench in the far corner motionless. So he took a moment to gather those thoughts that threatened to leave him light headed. Midnite mentally cracked into a lunatic laugh at the whole scene; he was a man of few words, strong and open minded, with a sense of righteousness that made every other person question his sanity in times like this…but he was laughing.
His eyes shifted from his point he previously let his eyes drop to the odd couple in front of him. He knew them for a long time, but not entirely; two young people, with knowledge of both heaven and hell alike, more or less ready to step into something that was unknown even to him. To underestimate them was a big deal, but he wouldn’t expect any help from them, per say. The little relic hunter, he had to snort at that, and the fierce assassin; an odd couple indeed. There was a smile at their little conversation that was brought unwillingly, and again he had to snort. Midnite liked them, he decided eventually, after all these years that they were frequenting his place to grow find of them. A quiet pair, minding their own business and since there was no action made inside his sanctuary then little did he care what happened once they were out of there. Being the owner of a place where all sorts of supernatural creatures met, then having those two with a list of items to procure, things were bound to occur once they were out of his protective eyes and no more under his rules.

And then there was Amelie. Midnite knew it was the worst responsibility that could ever fall in his hands and he somehow cringed at the thought alone. Betraying a friend was one thing, but betraying the person he willingly decided to take as a son was something that he could not, even in the darkest of times, do. Amelie was fragile, young and rebellious. Impulsive was a strong word, but she came close to it. The fact that she was a magnet for trouble helped little to cease down the feeling of doubt, more over it earned him a couple of other ones to go with the cocktail of what he was battling at that moment. She was also reserved, if that could make any sense, but whenever Bernhard asked her questions she gracefully dismissed them with answers that not even the most creative people could come up. She lied a lot, but eventually she would come and tell them the wrong that was done, even though it was too late. There were times he questioned Bernhard’s parental skills but then he would show him otherwise, being three steps ahead of her in ways that were surprising even for him. It probably meant that he was doing a great job and now the dark skinned man wondered just how was he supposed to stick up to that.

There was a sigh coming from his own mouth before he finally let his eyes fall over the couple just as soon as those two stopped conversing.

“To be able to do this I need you two to work together with me and NOT against me.” He frowned at the looks they shared. “You have to explain her a lot.” His finger pointed rudely at the girl. “And I have to figure out how to keep that one under radar.” His hands laced together in front of him. “Lucifer is ready for battle and we have no time.” His eyes shifted from one to another. “The fact that things got even worse with her powers back does little to make me feel confident, but with your help; IF you decide to stick with me in this, we could make this work.” There was a low grumble coming from the bench.

“Think about it and decide because Eve.” He looked her in the eyes “You and her, are both very important, and if Lucifer decides to recruit both of you, then say goodbye to the world you know from now

“This is not up for debate.” He says back to the man “As long as I have a breath in my lungs and light in my eyes my charge will not step foot into your world. She can fuck around the outskirts all she wants – trade as many relics , sell as many souls -  put out as many hit -.” He adds under his breath, and chooses to ignore the way Eves’ shoulders tense at it “ – But she will never get mixed up with angels. Especially Lucifer.”

“But Der-“

“I said no.” he says suddenly and stands in a manner that carries with it enough finality to make her fall silent. “As for the little demon princess? Maybe daddy should have told her what was what sooner rather than later. But as it stands, she will be chosen to be the assholes' vessel and the world will burn at her feet.” He smiles darkly and looks at the demon before him “And the little wounded mouse act only works on things that aren't as old as me, and that haven’t lived long enough to see what demons are really capable off. You all like chaos, death, and to bathe in humanity’s misery and suffering – this will be like a fucking party for you, and don’t  … not even for a fucking minute think that I’m naive enough to think there is an ounce of sympathy in you. Demon.” He stands then and starts towards the door when Midnites’ voice catches up with him.

“And what if he chooses Eve instead?” the man asks, a quiet sort of disapproval in his tone that makes the werewolf freeze and tense before remembering that Midnite would rather sever his right arm that break his blood oath of neutrality. “What would your age and power do to help us then, Hale?”

“Then ?” he say over his shoulder, his eyes flashing blue and  inhuman “ Then, I will kill Even myself.” And that is that, his words sinking quietly over the silence he leaves behind him – and somewhere in the distance she is somehow aware that she heard him slam the door shut – but she can’t move.

“I’m … sorry about him.” She manages to say, eyes wide and unmoving from some fixed point she uses as an anchor through the chaos of her own thoughts. She doesn’t look at Midnite to know that he’s frowning – maybe from pity, maybe from anger, who knows?  So she stands and forces herself to draw everything in – every emotion, every fear, she locks it all inside herself and breathes out before looking at the pain in front of her. “I will see to it personally that we will reach a compromise, Midnite." she says finally, every ounce of the stunned and crippling tone from earlier gone and replaced with the emotionless detatched professionalism she was known for. "I am sure that Derek did not intend to insult you in your place of establishment.“  Midnite snorts, and she has to give him that - Derek made his sentiment regarding all of this pretty fucking clear.

“How can somebody as crass as Hale, have something as delicate and polite as you for an apprentice?” He wonders out loud, and Eve think, not for the first time.

“However, I have too –“ she says instead of answering,  throwing a thumb over her shoulder by means of signalling her urgency for departure, to which the man simply nods.

“Go.” He finally says, and she doesn’t need to be told twice.


She finds him a few minutes later casually leaning against the brick wall outside of Midnites’ bar. His eyes are cast upwards towards the rising full moon,  and his breath puffs out of him in slow, calm little clouds of condensation, mixing and vanishing in the midnight air. There’s sadness laced around him, and she resists the urge to tug at him to try and comfort.

“I forgot it was a full moon out tonight.” She says airily, and perhaps trying to smile too hard against the hole in her chest. He doesn't acknowledge her, refuses to, and her heart sinks a bit farther. “Why didn’t you tell me ofthe whole synthetic glitch deal?” she asks instead, ripping the Band-Aid off in one painful motion rather than dancing around it. “And Midnite could –“

“You know what, Eve? “ he cuts her off instead “You should probably keep quiet right now.”

“Derek I –“

“This has to be your best skill.” He laughs, and it’s hollow and terrifying “Doing the utter fucking opposite of what I tell you to do. Never fucking listening, never fucking following orders.” He sighs, and closes his eyes against the moonlight that shimmers from behind a lazy cloud.

“I’ve always tried too –“

“Halfheartedly at best, and we both know it. “ he snorts and finally looks at her, his eyes shining blue and  his brows furrowed in anger , and she feels her blood boiling in response – screw this.

“We can’t walk away from this one Derek! They need us, we need them -”

“Because you say so?” the corner of his mouth twitches slightly, a hint of condescension  in his tone laced with something that Eve thinks might be too cruel to put into words “Because that’s what we do, right? Follow your plan, all the time. While I? Thousand years old, older than dirt, have to follow you around – because even if I’d say no, you are stupid enough to try and carry a mission out by yourself, and get yourself killed in the process. So I have to do your dirty work, work with mobsters, get my hands dirty … just to make sure I’m keeping you alive.”

“Why?” she asks in a feet of stupid bravery, and she thinks for a moment the question caught him off guard, because his eyes widen ever so slightly at her. So she pushes harder “Why do you ? Why do you feel like you have too?” and he smiles.

“You’re too stupid to realize it for yourself, and you are not skilled enough with your abilities to try and find out why.” He says simply and pushes off the wall with a dejected sigh “So I’ll make you a deal – mind your own fucking business from now on. And when you are at the level you were supposed to be four years ago -  instead of fucking around and screwing up your progress – then get back to me. But until then Eve? Until then you keep the fuck quiet, act fucking casual, and try to not to step on my fucking toes.” And with that he turns into the night to walk away  “Oh, and “ he says over his shoulder  “If I get even a hint of your scent inside Midnites’ again, I will rip your throat out … with my teeth.”

He didn’t know how long he had been staring at the closed door, but he was certain that it had been slightly too long for his own liking. The frown he’d been sporting, if possible, came even deeper as he wondered in just how much shit they were going to drown before finally everything settled. It was quiet, too quiet; the same silence that was announced a short, but devastating storm. Though despite the harsh denial of Derek’s importance in this whole mess, things went pretty well from what Midnite had initially expected; broken chairs, holes in the wall, maybe something adding broken limbs and gruesome blood shed; the usual he had been seeing every single damn time it involved his little glitch. But today he was different and something inside told the dark skinned man that maybe, just slightly maybe, there was a chance.


There was a shift in the left corner of his office followed by a painful moan and Midnite cringed in empathy, not for the demon lying there, but mostly for his own sanity.

“Hello there mi Lady.” He joked, pushing up from his comfortable chair to reach the squirming girl.

“Oh fuck, my head.” She moaned again, struggling to keep balance as she stood but failing miserable as she stumbled back on the wooden couch.

“Language, Amelie. Language.” He smiled, stretching a hand just above her to open the small cabinet filled with all sorts of weird looking bottles, containing weirder looking liquids of even weirder, if possible, different colours. Amelie glanced upwards and scrunched in disgust. “Am I supposed to drink something? Because I feel perfectly fine.” She lied, mentally cursing at the wave of pain that shot through her.

Mindite snickered, heading back towards what looked like a wooden table, but had different runes and circles painted on top and around it. He didn’t reply as he carefully mixed something, once in a while throwing glances towards her. She frowned and Midnite sighed.

Her eyes had been a reddish color since the moment she opened them, her nails longer and her hair began to take a very dark shade of red. She was barely containing the overwhelming powers that had been for so many years kept under the seal, and the fact that she was completely oblivious to them showed nothing but the simple fact that they were still not fully awakened. And that worried him.

“Here.” He stopped in front of her with a cup of opaque liquid. She watched the cup, then him, then she made a very typical ‘bleah’ before she reluctantly took the cup with shaking hands. “Don’t worry, it tastes like lemon juice.” He smiled before settling next to her with his arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Drink it slowly.” He advised.

There was so much to say, to show that even a demon as strong at him, took a very large amount of determination and patience to be able to, somehow bring her on a better road.

“Azazel left me in charge of you.” He bluntly said, but regreted as soon as he saw her tensing. Midnite cursed; he was definitely not the best to be put as a guardian to a seventeen year old girl; especially a girl. Midnite was rough, manly and never showed the soft side to anyone; hell he didn’t even know if he had one. A large hand was brought to his face to scrub at his eyes. He suddenly felt tired.

Amelie was confused, hurt, abandoned, disappointed and who knows what else, so when she saw herself in her godfather’s office; about who she found out earlier that night, she panicked. To say that she was scared was nothing compared to what she felt. Her hands hold the cup so tight that for a moment, she had the impression she heard a crack.
The silence that settled between them was filled with anxiety, both seeming lost in their thoughts, or just struggling hard to break the ice. After all they were family, and what could overcome such a situation if not a family. At the thought Amelie snickered, breaking Midnite’s focus over his own mind.

He watched her stare into distance, chewing her lip softly, a clear act that showed she was distressed.

“Heh.” He laughed. “That is exactly what your father used to do.” What better way to break that thick ice if not talking about the person that they both knew well. It seemed to work because as soon as the word ‘father’ left his mouth she glanced towards him, eyes questioning. “Pardon?”

“Chewing your bottom lip.” His hand waved in front of her face. “That, or biting the inside of his cheek. He used to do it a lot when he was thinking or struggling about something.” He smiled watching a similar smile spread across her featured before she decided to turn her head and focus on something else. “Yeah, I used to tell him he will end up having holes in his cheeks.” Her eyes dropped once again on the almost half cup in her hands. “I never knew he was such a star among Hell.” She gives a dry laugh while her hand turns the cup between her fingers.

“You- WE have much to learn about each other to make this work.” He stood and walked over his desk searching for something. “We could start slowly. You, specially need to learn to control your power Amelie, and fast.” He turns around and holds a piece of worn out cloth. “This will keep you steady.” Her eyes shot up in surprise before slowly settling down to a frown. “What is that?”

“A piece of cloth that your angel gave me.”

A wise woman once said that all stories worth reading are about wolves.

All worth repeating, that is. Think about it; there’s escaping from the wolves, fighting the wolves, capturing the wolves, taming the wolves. Being thrown to the wolves, or throwing others to the as the case may be. Running with the pack. Turning into a wolf. But best of all, turning into the alpha wolf. No other decent stories exist. Anything else is sentimental drivel.

She always wondered, in this story about wolves, which part exactly was she supposed to be playing? The one doing the throwing, or the one being thrown? For a while she felt like she belonged; a small and lonely part of her shyly dared to reach out to the hope that maybe she was part of something bigger – that maybe she was enough to be his pack. Then things changed; priorities, plans, actions, behaviours – in the blink of an eye everything was different, even themselves. And at the end of it she was left to wonder if by some vile twist of irony she turned into the kind of person that fed the wolf rather than run along with it.

Derek was … interesting. From the moment she met him the air of mystery and deception that laced his very core never stopped fascinating her. He was a puzzle, but in retrospect for a while there, it seemed that she may have forgotten that she set out on this adventure with the sole intent of solving it. Solving him. But, caught up in her plan for revenge, power, gain, and god knows what else … she simply … forgot. Gradually she stopped looking at him like a wolf altogether. Because the truth of the matter was that sometimes it was just too hard too.

He was everything to her; from mentor to protector, from protector to family, from family to friend, from friend to – whatever it was that made her heart clench whenever he stepped in front of a bullet. Kind, loyal, gentle, but all the same stubborn, prideful, and cruel; the depth that made up his character were found in very few souls. She never could pinpoint the gears that made him tick though – the motivation that kept him going. And the part of her that was brave enough to admit she loved him (quietly, in the dread of night, and only when the need to sleep overturned her fear and self-preservation) feared that she would never be able too.

Sometimes however, the very nature of their lives seemed so incredibly cliché that a well-deserved laugh at it wouldn’t seem too out of place; little red and her wolf trying to avenge grandma. It was so childish, so idiotic, so very pathetically hopeful. And yet, even after fifty years, it was the only thing that managed to keep her going. The only thing that managed to ground her humanity into place. Whatever was left of it to mention off. They seemed to thrive on it, dulled in a monotonous grime of an impossible goal – any less of a soul would feel lost, but Derek and her? They felt alive. They had a purpose. So you would think that after fifty years of running with a wolf, the simple and authoritarian way he dismissed her and put her in her place wouldn’t hurt quite so much. And this is where you would be wrong.

This realization leaves her here. Cooped up in her lonely one bedroom apartment with the dim light of whatever disaster was being reported on TV casting everything in an almost fitting shade of melancholic blue. The rain slowly making a dent in the dirt and grime that coated every inch of the city, and crashing violently in the clear glass of her window. She didn’t have a good view of the city, but from this angle the fire escape from across the ally seemed almost picturesque; the money they earned never really seemed nearly enough to ensure them the finer things in life- everything had to be save and put aside, a neverending goal that always seemed to out of reach – but truth be told, even if it did she isn’t entirely sure either of them would choose the high life over anonymity. So she watched the rain erode away the paint of the fire escape. Humming in appreciative compassion to the pitter-patter of water against steel, and wondering if the hole in her chest was aching from her anger towards him or because of his anger towards her.

She can’t seem to settle on an answer.

She decides she doesn’t really want to try.




Derek Hale is an idiot.


There, it’s out there. Released into the universe and out in the open for everyone and their mother to silently judge his sorry little werewolf ass forever. Because this? He deserved this. The self-pity, self-loathing, the emptiness in the very core of his chest that feels so fucking familiar and so fucking painful every time he’s away from her for more than a week.

You’d think he’d learn by now. You would expect a creature that is roughly a thousand years old to understand the consequence and interworking of being bonded not only to your apprentice but also to your mate– even one that was pathetic enough to not be reciprocated. But hell hath no fury like a werewolf scorned , and no pride like that of Hales either; and as such this was not the first – and he suspect nether the last – time he’d feel the aftereffects of shutting her out.

He felt cold and empty, dejected of the warm sense of safety that only pack could bring, wrapped up in a nest of blankets and throw pillows he’d realized a little too late that carries her smell all over them. He frowns at then and can’t remember for the life of him how they ended up in his apartment. They don’t look like his choice in décor – far too small to be comfortable, far too soft to be used singularly. The blankets too; soft, warm, expensive looking, probably cashmere. And they all reek of Eve. It’s then that he realizes with a bone crunching startle that she most likely snuck them in. Probably over time, little by little so he wouldn’t notice. He vaguely remember an argument about her insisting he’d live like a normal person, and appropriate some household amenities in his bare-ass apartment. He also remembers just how easily he dismissed her, and how easily she dropped it.

“Sneaky woman.” He murmurs, burying himself in the blankets even farther. He doesn’t inhale deeper now that he knows it’s her scent he’s wrapped in. He also doesn’t sigh contently and feels just a tiny bit more grounded at the thought of it. He wonders darkly is perhaps a week and a half away from her and whatever supernatural disaster was currently plaguing the planet is enough ‘punishment’ to teach her a lesson. He also wonders just how much more of this self-imposed exile he can actually take before he’s forced to run her down and burry his nose in her neck like some feral little savage his mother used to warn him about. His phone however is the one that brings him out of his meanderings – and , with a longsuffering sign he claws his way out of his cocoon of warmth and makes a grab at the offending brick to technology .

“What?” he grunts and receives a low chuckle in response. He closes his eyes and drops back into his nest, cursing whichever deity may be listening for giving man the ability to hide his caller ID. Because if he knew who it was, he sure as fuck wouldn’t have answered it.

[Feeling good, child?] Midnites’ low accent cuts through the rain filled static on the other end, and Derek rubs a hand over his face in frustration.

“What do you want?”

[Remind me again how a were feels when he’s separated from his mate?] oh that’s gutsy, he’ll give him that.

“Like shit.” He says simply

[And yet you still do it every time you little ego get bruised.]

“What do you want Midnite.” He grunts, trying to cut through the bullshit.

[Your charge was right. We need each other in order to survive the upcoming apocalypse. ]

“You call it apocalypse, I call it inevitable. Potato potatoes.” He sing-songs, and immediately regrets it when the small action gives him whiplash.

[You think this is a joke?] The man’s voice rises in his ear and Derek flinches because this? This is like a hangover times ten, he doesn’t need to add screaming to his shitty disposition.

“If you keep screaming at me when I’m writhing in agony in mate separation hell, I swear I will muster whatever fucking strength I have left to sever your hands from their sockets. “ he growls, and the other end goes silent for enough time to make Derek actually pull the phone away from his ear to check if the guy hung up.

[We need to work together, Hale.] Ah, so he didn’t hung up.

“I need to keep her safe.” He says plainly.

[And what if I could guarantee you that she would be? They both would be.]

The book seemed to be horribly ordinary to even get the slightest attention deserved as fingers just flipped the old pages far too fast for a person to even be able to finish them. She was also far too rough for Midnite’s taste as she could literally feel the wince every time she flipped it. There was a roll of her eyes with each heavy sigh her godfather gave from his desk and despite it, just to annoy him further, she flipped one file so strong that it made a crumbling noise.

“Enough!” he yelled across the room as he paced so strong on the floor, the wood squeaking under his weight. The book was snatched from her hands rather violently right before she heard a low growl above her. “They are rare and very hard to obtain.” He stated low, hovering over her.

“And by ‘hard to obtain’ you mean ‘hard to sneak into hell’s library and steal everything worth stealing’?” she pulled up her most innocent face while Midnite just glared.

“It’s not my fault you have been keeping me here in this boring place for the last week AND didn’t even explain why.” Her head lowered just enough to watch him under her eyes with a deep frown and hands tightly crossed over her chest. And then there was the pout and Midnite could just face-palm himself at how childish was that and how it fucking WORKED every time. There was a sigh as he finally turned around and headed back towards the desk.

‘You are impossible.” He groaned, feeling her glaring over from the couch.

“I am barely containing my anger with this.” She brought her legs under her as she finally broke the glare to cast a glance over the pouring rain outside.

Amelie was tired, that was one thing; and then she would probably top that with another wave of confusion, because no explanation was given by this time. There had not been a time to mourn her loses or maybe she contained it; who knows, but one thing was sure; something happened that was not meant to be discovered by her. For example how there were no mirrors around that place, or the fact that she had been drinking the same potion since the time she woke up, OR the fact that Midnite had been kindly diverted any suspicious questions she had asked about why she felt the things she felt. The man was a mystery that she had yet to solve, burying his time in those books that she could barely even spell a word, avoiding her completely and just cutting her out entirely from his life. She missed her life; she missed going out on trips, stealing things here and there, eating at her favorite restaurant, being free of doing whatever she wanted but mostly she missed her father and all those times she had been with him. There was not even one question that had been avoided with her father and for every question, followed a very detailed answer. However, now that she thought about it, there was sometimes where she had felt something was hidden behind a certain answer, but she never questioned it because she knew that she would eventually find out, or that’s what Bernhard kept on reassuring her. ‘One day you will find out, but for now just leave it at that sweetheart’ she recalled the typical answer, her stomach tightening at the nickname. Amelie knew that would only be as it is, a memory; a fragment of her memory that would probably be forgotten eventually. She chocked, trying to swallow the lump in her throat and blink away the threatening tears from her eyes. No, she had to be strong, for both of them.

The blur from her eyes seemed to clear as she stared out the window. There, in the reflection of the window, she saw two bright red eyes staring back at her. She blinked once – still there. She frowned and blinked again. She closes her eyes and tries to gain focus over her senses, drowning down the anger and frustration and just let her mind free of any dark thoughts. She knew what she was; the result for being angry would bring those out so she tried to calm down, exactly how her father had taught her. When she felt relaxed her eyes opened. Still.there. A wave of panic flowed through her, eyes widening gradually. The pair of red poled kept on staring back at her, growing even scarier with the whole widening.

Midnite seemed to hear her pulse rising fast as his eyes snapped to her, then to the window, then back at her before he muttered the cliché “Fuck.”

“Amelie, look at me.” He was in a moment by her side.

“Why am I not changing back?” she whispered, staring at her reflection. Midnite watched her one the window as she slowly sat on the couch behind her. “Because you are upset.” He replied in a calm voice, his hands touching her shoulders while his eyes glued on her features. He thought he saw a slightly bit of sharp white under her lips and he hoped it wasn’t noticed by her. His gazed flickered at her ears, then at her hair and he mentally cursed.

“Amelie try to calm down and I swear it will pass.” His tone was too calm comparing to what he felt then. “Let’s get you lay down on the couch and I will explain everything, ok?” he smiled when he saw her eyes over him. Amelie nodded as she took one last look at her eyes before turning around.

Midnite’s smile kept plastered on his face as he pulled her into a tight embrace, hoping that Derek would think over his offer.










“So Gabriel made an appearance.” Sean smiled, his fingers tapping rhythmically over the stainless steel table of his office while the other one rested under his chin before dismissing his informer with a wave of his hand.

The feeling he had was getting stronger, but decided to keep it down until proven right. Though there was a genuine smile tugging at his lips as he recalled the vivid memory of two tiny red poles staring back at him.

He had been waiting for this piece of information since that night and lived every single second until he would finally stare into them again. Sean kept on searching and searching for the past ten years but he never thought it might, just maybe, probably, for her to actually be under his nose all this time. He heard about the attack over Midnites club, it was the latest news among supernatural and he had to laugh at that – an angel? To show in the human world? That was something to be taken in consideration for future because there had to be something big coming up. His attention had been solely drawn over his Amelie to even think of wasting time for other unpleasing events, but now? Maybe they were helpful in some ways.


His finger pushed a button on his phone and brought the device over his ear. When he was graced with the desirable voice he smiled. “Give me everything you have that has to do with Midnite’s club, preferably the last few months.”


Sean eventually resumed work and he could barely focus on his tasks until he got a call with a hidded caller ID. He frowned at the phone for a bit before deciding to go for it.

[Hello Sean, long time to see.] the voice was unrecognizable, leaning back into his chair.

“Excuse me?” he asked cautiously.

[Ah of course. Midnite sounds familiar?] there was a chuckle at the end of the line and Sean could barely contain his smirk.

“Interesting to hear from you Midnite. What’s wrong?” one eyebrow rose delicately.

[It will be even more interesting when I will tell you I know where to find the reason of your sleepless nights, archangel.] Sean frowned even deeper if possible as he stood up.

“What do you mean?” he asked, clutching the phone in his hands absentmindedly.

[I don’t have time to explain, just hear me out.] There was a pause at the other line while Sean glanced outside his office.

[Lucy wants her, and another one that you might know briefly; he wants them as vessels and I don’t know which one. Azazel is awakened and she has her full powers.] he sounded disturbed and, desperate. If under different circumstances Sean would have had a good laugh, but now it was different as it concerned his soul.

“I have a house, safe – very safe.” He reassured Midnite just to make it clear that they were safe; At least for the time being. There was a small thug of happiness at his heart but he kept it in order, though the smile was on his face unwillingly. After all those years he was ready to see her. That was frightening.

[Very well. We will talk soon then. Farewell.] and he was met with the tone ringing in his ears before, after a whole five minutes, he finally dropped the receptor back in its place.










“So I have full powers now.” She said, watching Midnite nod as he prepared again that awfully looking potion. “And if I don’t control it will take over.” There was again a nod. Amelie glanced at the mirror, letting her eyes roam over the now OBVIOUS red color that her hair seemed to get, and the small pointy fangs that popped from under her lips as she smiled just a bit, and the ears that took a pointy shape – and that was probably the weirdest looking face she had ever seen. “Why am I getting pointy ears?” she tugged softly on them.

“From your mother.” midnite stated as he took the vial and poured the liquid in a cup. “She is a succubus, they are having pointy ears, very attractive features, long sharp nails and also a tail, but that depends.” He placed the cup on the wooden table and sat next to Amelie, throwing an arm over the couch’s back.

“I’m going to grow a tail?!” her voice rose as she swiftly turn to stare at Midnite.

The man just rolled his eyes “I said depends. You might not, depends on what features you took from her. Apparently you have the ears.” He pointed a finger at her ears. “Look this is not important. What is important that Lucy wants you, and that girl, and we need to protect you two from him.”


Midnite didn’t have patience with her, he had said just what needed to be said to calm her down for the moment and keep her drinking that potion until they would go and figure out how to teach her to control her powers, then he would finally tell her everything she needed to know.