Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Of course Kevin wasn't going to let Streber keep living at what was essentially his own crime scene. They were going to unhaunted that house eventually, or however you would call it. Kevin wouldn't want Streber to live on the streets, especially since Streber would crumble to dust if he was stuck in the sun too long. He wanted what was best for Streber, even if he wasn't exactly sure what their relationship was right now.

Kevin would have counted this as a win: There was a cute someone living in his apartment, they had been talking, they went on something that resembled a date. The only thing keeping it from being a win was the fact that Streber was a newly transformed vampire, and he was doing extremely bad.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" Kevin asked.

Streber firmly held his gaze out the window, staring at the stars tingling over the town they lived in. His apartment was on the second story, which was also the top floor. It was not at all a big place, and around half of the rooms were vacant last Kevin had heard. There was nothing particularly exciting out there. Kevin guessed that Streber did not want to look at him.

"I told myself I wouldn't," Streber asserted, "So I'm not."

"You're going to starve to death at this rate," Kevin pointed out, "I can run out to some pet store and get you something there."

Streber flinched. "That's… Fucked up."

"I didn't say it was a good option. Just the best one," Kevin sighed, "You need something. You haven't eaten anything but human food since you- ah- Well, the human food clearly isn't working."

Streber took a deep breath. His eyes fell from the window to the floor. "I have no idea what to do, but I know I don't want to turn anything into this, and I don't want to kill anything either."

"It'll be just like, I dunno, eating a hamburger," Kevin prompted.

"No it's not," Streber pouted, "Someone else killed that burger."

Kevin clenched his jaw; he already didn't like what he was about to suggest. "I can get someone else to kill this stuff for you."

Streber relented. As much as he wanted to stick to his word, it was becoming clear that the alternative was dying. "Alright," he agreed, "If you can get someone else to kill things, I'll eat."

Kevin smiled with relief. "I'll be back," he informed his… friend? Partner? One of them. He grabbed his coat from where he'd thrown it onto the couch when he got home. He'd been tired, and still was.

"Right now?" Streber asked.

"You look like you're about to pass out," Kevin informed him, "And that's a pretty big deal, seeing as you're undead or something."

Streber nodded. "I don't look that bad, do I?" he asked.

"You do," Kevin promised him, "I'd show you, if anyone could see your reflection."

Streber laughed, then grimaced. Kevin could tell that he noticed how weak his laughter was.

Kevin waved as he exited the apartment. He had a feeling Streber waved back. As Kevin left the building and stepped into the chilly, mid-November air, he wondered what exactly he was getting himself into. This guy, they had a pretty rough history, but upon his third or so vessel (from what Kevin had been told) he practically begged to be sheltered in the candy store, and Kevin couldn't help but oblige. Kevin didn't know why he did these things for people, helping them when they definitely shouldn't have been helped. He knew why he was helping Streber though.

Dexter hadn't a clue how he'd gotten here. Oh, he could recount the story alright: possessed, then killed, then brought back, then melted, then brought back and melted again. By the time his spirit had latched onto yet another happy fella, he gave up trying to get revenge on those annoying kids. He just wanted someplace to hide now.

Just about everyone in this damn town had seen him, and most of them were out to get him now. The cops were suspicious of him, the freaky kidnapper guy would turn him over to the cops, the three teen kids would most likely tear him apart (for fun or out of fear, he didn't know), and if he ever went after the costume children again he was certain that lavender lady would throw him in the oven a third time. Maybe turning to the candy guy wasn't the best idea, but it was better than any of the other options. Kevin, for his credit, let him hide out an empty candy tube during the day. Dexter figured that was a noble thing to do considering he'd stabbed him the few minutes they'd known each other prior.

Was Dexter going a little stir crazy? Sure. But the Candy Club was closed now, and he could roam as he pleased. He slipped through the bottom of the tube that dispensed candy, the one he stood dormant in during the daylight hours, and snuck to the other side of the store. There it was waiting.

He slunk behind the box, and slowly rose over it, looming over his prey. With one swift movement, he plunged a knife into the box, poking a hole through the packaging and piercing its contents. He laughed in euphoric glee as he carved open the box with his knife, and tossed the creature within out into the center of the store. With a dull snap, the chocolate bunny landed, breaking into two pieces, rabbit and ears. Dexter pounced, shrieking with laughter as he hacked and slashed the confection into jagged chunks of milk chocolate. He stood over the mutilated treat, his full two and half feet (tall for a doll, and don’t you forget it!), with his fabric hands thrown up in the air.

The lights flicked on and Dexter winced. “Is this why there’s always a mess to clean in the morning?” Kevin’s tired voice asked.

Dexter spun around to face him. “What are you doing here?” He barked.

Kevin heaved a sigh, the kind of sigh only someone who had exhausted all other choices could heave. That piqued Dexter’s interest. Kevin had a tired look in his eyes. It was similar to that other fella (saying that word was compulsory ever since his soul had been holed up in this doll and he hated it!) who worked here a short week before quitting. Kevin was a trooper for putting up with it all, Dexter knew that much. Dexter also knew that troopers eventually break.

”Need your help with… A thing,” Kevin finally answered.

"Not interested," Dexter dismissed him, continuing to hack the bunny into pieces, even though having the lights on made it harder to pretend that this was a real bunny and he had a knife that wasn't made for spreading butter. Perhaps he'd been wrong about Kevin's state. Kevin did often look tired.

Kevin crossed the room, and Dexter's interest was rekindled by the jingling of keys. When Dexter arrived at the Candy Club seeking shelter, Kevin had confiscated his real knife. Dexter let the butter knife he used as a replacement drop to the floor with the tingle of metal against linoleum. Kevin had just unlocked the cabinet that held important documents that the company couldn't leave at risk of being stolen- important documents, and Dexter's real knife.

Kevin held up the knife, and glanced from it to Dexter. "If I give you this, you have to use it for what I say, and nothing more," Kevin warned, "Deal?"

"What do I get if I do?" Dexter asked.

Kevin glared down at the doll. "What you've been asking for."

Dexter had asked for many things. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd be getting, but he wanted it. Besides, if he got to keep the knife, he'd get several more things.

"And what if I use it for anything else?"

"I know the lavender lady," Kevin informed him.

Dexter would have loved to call his bluff. If there was anything Dexter loved, it was cornering people, even if it was just in a lie. Unfortunately, Dexter knew Kevin wasn't lying. Skid was constantly in and out of the candy store. Sometimes, his mother would come in too; not as often, but enough to make Dexter's heart pound, even as he stood perfectly still within his sanctuary of plastic remembering what it felt like to feel his artificial skin melt into charred mesh. Dexter hated it, but he was terrified of the lavender lady.

"Do not do that," Dexter decided, "I'll do what you ask."

Kevin approached him, and warily handed the knife to him. "I'm trusting you," Kevin told him, then added, "I hope you're planning on eating that." He gestured to the splintered chocolate bunny.

"I don't eat," Dexter reminded him. Kevin's glare intensified. Dexter rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," Kevin growled, "Just take this and follow me."

The moment Dexter took the knife, he had to hold himself back from immediately stabbing Kevin for a second time. It wasn't his fault. How could it be? It had been a long time since he'd drawn real blood. That was technically Kevin's fault, and it would serve him right to be stabbed again.

But that would get his knife confiscated, and that was the best case scenario. Kevin knew the lavender lady, and Dexter doubted she got rid of her oven in the time since he'd last been shoved inside it. So instead he brought it down onto the chocolate bunny, slicing it cleanly, a proper cut unlike the jagged bits that the butter knife left behind.

"Are you done?" Kevin asked dryly, pushing open the door of the Candy club.

Dexter looked at the open door in disbelief. "You're letting me go out?"

"Go before I change my mind," Kevin hissed.

Dexter grinned. It was a smile of giddiness and malicious intent all at once, not one that would appear particularly trustworthy. Judging by Kevin's expression, one last thought of backing out crossed his mind. It was too late now, though. Dexter would make sure of that.

Stepping out of the doors for the first time since- well, many months, but how many, he wasn't sure. The days started to blur together sometime down the line. The fresh, cool air hit him like a gentle hug, and the pale moonlight shone off him like a kiss. This meant nothing to Dexter. The only thing that meant anything to Dexter was the fact that there was nothing between him and fresh blood except Kevin's word. He felt nothing towards the natural world he had just re-entered, but the thought of plunging his knife into flesh made the fluff inside his doll body tingle with anticipation.

"Who are we killing?" Dexter asked.

Kevin looked at him with a mixture of shock and concern.

"What? Even before I died, that's what people expected me to do," Dexter huffed, "Exterminate things."

Kevin continued to look at him with that idiotic expression. "That was you?" Kevin asked.

All this time. All this time living in a goddamn plastic tube in a stupid candy shop, watching the lavender lady walk in and out with her annoying son and his equally annoying friend, listening to Kevin bitch and moan about his job- And Kevin didn't know the only thing about Dexter worth learning. "You are insufferable," Dexter informed him.

"That's a big word for you," Kevin shot back.

"Would you prefer I tell you to go to hell?" Dexter asked.

Kevin glanced back at the Candy Club. Dexter could almost hear his thoughts, Is it too late to toss him back in? Yes, yes it was.

"So," Dexter prompted, "Who's the target?"

"Squirrels or something," Kevin groaned, "I don't know. I just need blood."

Dexter cocked his head to the side as if studying Kevin. Dexter wasn't stupid, of course; he knew there were many like that here, the superstitious, the cultists, and those with a gift for the supernatural. Kevin didn't seem the kind to do rituals though. In fact, his reactions to everything so far, from the object of the cult's worship to Dexter himself, pointed away from any sort of activity in that vein. Kevin was just a sad guy stuck in a strange town that had little to offer him and wanted him even less.

Of course, there was something else that Dexter had heard stuck in that candy tube. "Is it for your little boyfriend?" Dexter mocked.

Kevin blushed. "It's not like that! At least, I don't think so," Kevin muttered.

"Oh yeah. Because people who have perfectly platonic feelings talk on and on non-stop about the guy they've been living with and the date they went on together," Dexter huffed, "By the way, you were talking to a doll and standing in an empty room. And you were at work."

"You're a possessed doll!" Kevin argued, "It's not crazy!"

"Do you have any friends?" Dexter hissed.

That obviously struck a chord. Kevin looked at Dexter with many emotions plain on his face. Hurt and sorrow were apparent, but most jarringly was that Kevin was furious. Dexter had half a mind to be afraid, to wonder if Kevin was about to chuck him back into the Candy Club, or worse, hand him off to that lavender lady. Kevin opened his mouth. Dexter expected a scream, but all that came out was a long sigh.

"I'm going to ignore that," Kevin mumbled, "In the interest of getting something before Streber starves to death."

Kevin began to walk towards the woods. Dexter followed him, letting his knife run along the asphalt of the parking lot. It wasn't really good for the knife, but he loved the way the screeching noise drove Kevin crazy.

"He won't eat?" Dexter asked. He couldn't lie, as much as he derived joy from being Kevin's personal hellraiser (not that that was a special title- Kevin had many), he couldn't deny that Kevin's new boy toy had captured his interest. Many things had happened in this town, but in Dexter's memory vampirism wasn't one of them.

"He'll eat, just not what he needs," Kevin answered, "He doesn't want to kill anything."

"And you never offered?"

Kevin looked at him with abject reproach. "Why would I?" Kevin snapped, "And even if I did, he wouldn't accept."

Dexter rolled his eyes. "Well, you're both weak," Dexter grumbled, "Especially a guy who won't kill.

"Not everyone is a monster like you."

"Do you have room to speak? Your boyfriend is literally a vampire."

"Leave him alone! And he's not my boyfriend!" Kevin yelled.

Kevin clamped his mouth shut. Dexter was aware at this point that both of them weren't in the police's good graces, and even if he did get joy out of provoking Kevin, it was a good idea to keep the volume down. Kevin had the look on his face, the kind he got when he couldn't get angry at a customer but his teeth were visibly grinding together. The only difference between then and now was that Kevin wasn't smiling.

"You went on a date, you live in the same apartment, you're boyfriends," Dexter whispered. Kevin glared at him. Dexter added, "If you wanted dead squirrels without my constant input, you should have killed them yourself."

Kevin looked as though he wanted to argue, but they were on the edge of the forest now, and Dexter heard a rustle in the bushes. He doubted Kevin heard it, but Dexter had spent years listening for the movement of small animals, and even the gentlest of leaves whispering in the wind was crystal clear in his eyes. He was a predator, and he was on the hunt.

He could see its small figure in the brush, nose and tail twitching. If there were any positive outcomes of his untimely death and subsequent new body, it was that the doll was small and light. He made less noise, he fit into smaller places, he was like his prey but with one glaring difference, and that difference was that he was equipped to rip creatures apart. Dexter slunk over to the squirrel, so low to the ground he could be mistaken for a snake. Then, in one swift moment, he jumped up and swung his arm. The blade of his knife glinted in the moonlight, silver and scarlet.

The corpse of the squirrel flew up into the air and landed outside of the bush with an unceremonious thump. Dexter crept out, his silhouette in the darkness looking more like an animal than a haunted doll. He picked up the dead squirrel and walked back to Kevin, holding it out to him.

"Good clean job, huh?" Dexter stated, welling with pride.

Kevin took the squirrel from Dexter, holding it away from himself, tail pinched between his thumb and index finger. Kevin looked as though he was going to be sick. "Next time I'll bring a box," Kevin muttered, his voice strained.

"Better hold it better than that or its guts might fall out," Dexter teased.

Kevin gagged, but cradled it with both hands, still held away from his body.

"And do be careful coming home with all that blood on your hands," Dexter mocked, "Wouldn't want your new boyfriend to cause an accident because he realized you're full of good food to eat."

Kevin tried to glare at Dexter, but he was mid-wince so it was just a pleading look of disgust (and dare Dexter believe a little fear was there as well?).

Dexter didn't have anything to fear, though. He'd served his purpose, and he was ready to return to the candy store without complaint. That little itch that had been driving him crazy had been scratched, and as long as Kevin decided he liked this vampire guy, Dexter had a feeling he didn't have to worry about that for a long time.

He was sure he didn't have to worry about the lavender lady for a long time also. His life was free of her, and he was better for it. In fact his life was probably better than hers. For a brief moment, he wondered what insignificant, not-as-good-as-himself-right-now thing she was doing currently.

Lila was working at the desk behind the couch that Skid and Pump were seated on. They had begun the night very excited. Now that the popcorn she had made for them was almost gone and the movie's credits were scrolling down the screen, neither of them could keep their eyes open.

Skid listened to his mother's voice, which lulled him more than the movie, the popcorn, or the blanket he had wrapped himself in. "He has such high demands, Jaune," she hummed to the phone pressed to her ear, "Blueprints don't draw themselves overnight, but he seriously expects these to be done by Monday."

Skid wasn't exactly sure what his mom was talking about. She was an architect, which meant she made houses. But not really. Other people built the houses. His mom made the blueprints, which Skid understood were like the instruction manuals that came with Lego sets. He guessed his mom had to draw more instructions, and also her boss was being mean to her.

Pump had fallen asleep. Skid didn't know when exactly, but one moment he was awake, the next he was fast asleep. Skid wanted to join him, but all he could think about was his mom's boss being cranky with her about her blueprints. So, skid slipped off the couch, and left to go get his colors.

As he went on his small adventure for crayons, he could hear his mother's conversation continue. "Oh, yes. The boys are well. Pump's sleeping over tonight. They're watching a movie."

"Well, there is something strange, I guess. Skid keeps talking about this character, Antoine the vampire. Is that from a show, or an imaginary friend?"

Skid was only half listening to the conversation by now. If his mom didn't believe him about the real life vampire he met at the movie theater, that was fine. There were a lot of things she didn't believe, like that Eyes was a huge monster, or that her best friend's son wasn't really all that nice. He had other things to focus on now.

Skid plunked down on the ground, and began to draw. He picked a blue crayon, of course, because everyone knew that blueprints were blue. He began to draw a house, frontwards facing, a door flanked by windows on either side, and a chimney with a column of smoke coming out. Then, because he didn't know what exactly his mom had to make, he drew a skyscraper next to it, stretching taller than the house and sporting rows and rows of windows over a set of neat double doors. Then, he added two vampire doodles, one Antione, one Streber, because even though Antione was scary and he couldn't exactly remember what either looked like, vampires were cool.

"Really?" his mom's voice continued in the background, "I can't imagine him to be the kind of kid who had an imaginary friend. I suppose kids change as they get older, though. I worry that Skid might struggle to outgrow his imaginary friend if I try to pretend he's real, though." A pause. "Well, if it worked for you…"

Skid willed his barely awake body to walk over to Lila, blur crayon still gripped tight in one hand without him realizing. He yanked on the hem of his mom's shirt to get her attention. She looked down at him, and her tired expression changed to a weary smile.

"One second, Jaune," Lila requested, then set her phone on the table. To Skid, she hummed, "What is it honey?"

"I made you these," Skid mumbled, "It's blueprints."

His mother took the drawings from his hands. She studied it, and as she did, her tired smile grew wider. "You drew this for me?" she asked.

"So you have something for your boss on Monday," he explained.

Skid had seen his mother cry several times before, and it looked as though she was going to again. So, he did the only thing his ten year old brain could rationalize doing, which was hug her.

"Thanks," she whispered to him, "I'm sure he'll love the results."

The thin grasp on consciousness that Skid was holding onto slipped away in his mother's arms. As sleep overcame him, he felt her pick him up and begin to walk. She was going to tuck him into bed; he knew this process well. And then she'd do the same for Pump when she got back. Then she'd turn off the television.

And then she'd pick up the phone and talk with Jaune more as she did more work. Skid was somewhat aware that her boss probably wouldn't take his version of blueprints when his mom was already working on better ones.

Roy was hidden under his bed's comforter. It wasn't the most comfortable place to have a conversation, but with his room dark save the glow of his phone screen, it was the safest place to talk. "Do you see it?" Roy asked.

"Uh," Robert's voice answered on the other side of the line, "Not exactly."

"Come on!" Roy groaned, "It's not that hard! This place actually sorts their shit alphabetically!"

Ross' voice came in, "So it should be between 'Su' and 'Sv,' right?"

"There's not one game on earth that begins with 'Sv,'" Roy hissed, "And no, they won't sort it by the first word of the franchise, they'll sort it by title!"

Robert argued, "But it's a super-"

"Forget the super!" Roy whisper-shouted, "It will be slotted with the Bs, probably towards the beginning. Battle is a pretty standard word, so you should find all the battle titles quick."

There was a pause filled by the sound of movement. Then, Robert peeped, "Oh! I see it!"

"Yeesh," Ross muttered, "There are a lot of games that start with battle."

Roy rolled his eyes as the awful sound of a phone being moved mid-call ensued. He wanted to snap at them, maybe say Deal with it, but he'd been thinking a lot about his conversation with Ross while they were walking back from the theater lately. When he thought about it, he noticed that he threw insults at his friends like they were nothing, even if their reactions to being pushed past their breaking points terrified him. He hadn't honestly meant to do anything about it- Ross and Robert outgrew it, so he'd outgrow it in time without any extra work thrown in -but he felt horrible about it the more and more he did it. Somehow, it happened. He… Started to catch himself.

"Ah!" Robert's voice chimed, "Found it!"

"About time!" Roy grumbled.

"Your parents seriously won't let you play this?" Ross muttered, "It's not even T for Teen."

Roy shrugged, even though they couldn't see it. "You know how they are," he explained.

They didn't need to know that his parents weren't even aware that he had a handheld. His mom and dad weren't fond of games. Brain-rotting traps of escapism meant for those whose lives sucked, his mom called them. Then there was his dad, who said that folks like them who wasted hundreds of dollars on video games were no better than the lower class. Roy didn't care an iota. The things that made him similar to Ross and Robert were better than anything his parents would provide.

"You still have the card I gave you?" Roy asked.

"We're really allowed to use it?" Robert wondered, voice hushed like he was talking about some ancient artifact.

"You're allowed to use it for this," Roy explained pointedly, "My parents don't check every single card. We have some financial advisor look over most of them."

"Won't he snitch?" Ross cautioned.

"Not this one," Roy informed them, "He told me that his policy is confidentiality. Told me he'd 'been there' or some shit. He doesn't get it, as much as he would like to believe he does, but the important thing is, he won't tell my parents anything that I buy so long as I don't go over."

"Sounds like a nice guy," Robert hummed.

Roy agreed, but he wasn't going to say it. "Just go to the counter already!" he prompted.

"Alright, alright, geez," Ross muttered under his breath, just barely audible from over the phone. More shuffling, sounding like static over the receiving end. Roy winced at the sound, but smiled anyway. That was the sound of the game he wanted approaching ever closer.

"Pin?" Robert asked.

Roy whispered the pin number to the pair, so quiet that they barely understood. Still, they managed to swipe the card and put in the correct number. The game was his!

"Sweet!" Roy cheered quietly, "Now bring it over! To the window!"

"On our way," Robert promised.

"Thanks," Roy told both of them, "You guys are-"

"Reynold!" His mother's voice cut over them.

Ross and Robert on the other end went dead silent, then hung up.

Roy was frozen in fear for a short couple of seconds before coming to his senses and throwing the comforter off himself. "Yeah?" he peeped.

"What is the meaning of this?" His mother asked, holding out something for him to see.

"That's a piece of paper," Roy scoffed.

"It's half-finished homework with a failing grade!" she corrected, "Do you want people to think that we're simpletons?"

"Depends," Roy remarked, "Would you let them?"

The glare from his mother that his statement earned him cut into him like a dagger. He looked away from her. She muttered, "It's those plebeian boys. They're such bad influences."

"Leave them outta this! They don't want me to fail anymore than you do." Roy had hoped that his tone might be strong and angry, but his words came out like a whine.

"Uhg. Reynold, you know nothing of the common folk," she hissed. Her eyes darted down to his hands. "May I see your phone?"

"Why?" Roy asked slowly.

She didn't explain. Instead, she crossed the room and grabbed the phone.

"Stop! Why do you need it?" Roy repeated, trying to wrestle his phone from his grip.

His mother growled, "Give me your phone, Reynold."

"No!" he refused.

"What?" she asked, her tone biting.

Roy froze again. He hadn't meant to say that. He never wanted to say that. "N- No problem!" Roy squeaked, relinquishing his phone.

For a moment it felt more like she was towering over him than standing next to him. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket around him like it might protect him.

"I knew it," she sighed, "You've been talking to those freaks. Honestly, Reynold, you're better than this."

Roy watched helplessly as his mother deleted and blocked Ross and Robert's contacts. "Stop," he muttered, too quiet for her to hear.

"How often are we going to do this?" his mom asked, utterly accusatory.

"Forever," Roy spat.

Carmen huffed. "Fine. I'll be holding onto this for now, then," his mother informed him coldly.

Roy held back a furious scream behind clenched teeth as his mother left his room, taking his phone with her. As he sat alone in his room, the scream behind his locked jaw turned into a sob and hiccuped out of him pathetically. Roy always told himself that next time something like this happened he wouldn't cry, and every single time he was lying. He was trying with every fiber of his being to staunch the tears, though, with his sleeve pressed to his eyes in defiance. It wasn't technically crying if the tears barely existed, right?

At least there was something else, something his mother didn't know about, his most well-kept secret. He reached under his bed, and pulled out a box. "Music Awards" was crudely written on the top in black permanent marker. He pulled off the top, and sifted through the sea of medallions earned from music contests until his hands hit the bottom. He wedged his index finger between the side of the box and the bottom, and pulled it up. His parents hardly cared about his musical inclination, and they definitely hadn't heard of a false bottom (an idea he'd gotten from a cartoon that his parents described as immature). There, he hid his most treasured possession: a walkie-talkie.

He flicked it on and it let out a burst of static noise. He spoke into the receiver, "Sweater Weather to Beanie Baby and Backwards Lid. Come in."

Three excruciating seconds of silence, then Ross' flat voice, "She took away your phone, didn't she?"

"What else is new?" Roy asked. He sniffled.

Robert asked, "You alright dude?"

"Of course," Roy lied, "I'm not a crybaby like you."

"My mom says I'm sensitive," Robert argued.

Ross let out a quiet laugh. "My mom says that about you too."

"Sensitive is the nice way to say crybaby," Roy pointed out.

"Beats being called a plebeian," Robert grumbled.

Roy flinched. "Uh. Yeah. Sorry."

"It's not your fault, dude," Robert told him, "Your mom's an- ouch!"

If Roy had to guess, Robert cut Ross off somehow. The somehow sounded like it involved small-scale physical violence, too. Roy was a little proud of him. Robert was much more likely to be pushed than to push.

"It's alright to be upset, Roy," Robert said through the walkie-talkie.

Roy wiped tears from his eyes. He would have argued, but he knew this was one subject that Robert never folded on. Instead, he opted to mutter, "Whatever."

"You still want us to drop this by you tonight?" Ross asked.

"Nah," Roy decided, "Better get it to me tomorrow."

The white noise silence of the other end of the walkie-talkie cut off. "Bye to you, too," Ross mumbled, pocketing the device.

"Now what?" Robert asked.

Ross shrugged. "I'm going to go home."

"Already?"

"I don't feel very safe out at night anymore," Ross admitted with the same cadence of someone discussing the weather.

"That's fair," Robert muttered, "But the cops arrested him, you know."

"It's not that I don't trust that you and Rad made sure that guy got tossed in jail," Ross told him,"It's that I don't trust the cops to keep him there. Especially after what happened on Halloween."

Robert grimaced. It didn't matter if he ended up getting more candy, he was still bitter about getting all the treats he'd gathered for his little sister stolen from him. He supposed he should probably be more concerned with the fact that he'd been robbed under the pretense of "give me your candy or I'll eat you instead," but this was one matter where he'd be the last of his friends to cry about the danger.

"You want to come over to my house for a bit?" Ross offered.

"My mom said that I'm not allowed to stay over at anyone's house tonight."

"Why?"

"She said that I stay over too much. I think she thinks I'm avoiding the rest of them," Robert muttered.

"For real?" Ross wondered. His eyes were visibly wider than usual, a strange display of emotion.

"Is it that shocking?" Robert asked, "I'd probably think that too, if I were her."

"She's crazy, actually," Ross calmly argued, "You go to, like, the ends of the Earth for your family, dude."

Robert smiled. He wondered how both could be true, that he stayed the night at Ross' house more than he did his own, but he also would be willing to die for any one of them if it came to it. That invitation extended to his friends as well. Roy would call him a loser for that, probably. Ross liked to call it squishy.

"I'll come over for a bit," Robert agreed.

Ross smiled and nodded a single time. "D'ya think Roy would get mad if we played some of this game? It looks cool."

"That is a very bad idea," Robert answered. He wasn't sure how Roy would react, but he wasn't keen on finding out.

The wily smile on Ross' face didn't fade, but he did leave the game alone.

The two friends exited the shop. The sun had gone down while they were in the store, and the cool air was biting against their skin. "Should find my coat soon," Ross remarked.

In Robert's opinion, the time for finding coats was two days ago, but he didn't like to wear his winter gear until Ross and Roy did. He refused to be loser-ish, or squishy, or whatever else it could be called, over cold weather. He also didn't want to say anything about how much darker it seemed tonight over other nights. Even Ross wouldn't refer to being scared of the dark as squishy, he'd probably call it loser behavior like Roy.

It was really dark though. The wind was rustling the bushes and trees, and Robert could swear that the sound was following them. Something moved, and Robert was divided between whether it was just his imagination or if there was something really there. The streetlight above the sidewalk flickered. Robert stopped himself from jumping in fright. There was nothing to be afraid of, he was just squishy.

Ross grabbed his arm. Robert stopped and glanced at his friend, confused. Ross wore an expression that Robert had seen just twice in his life. The first had been when Skid and Pump had shown up with that weird creature, and the second had been when that freak threatened their lives for candy. His eyes were wide, his nose was wrinkled, and his mouth was drawn tight in a sharp upside-down v-shape.

Robert followed Ross' terrified gaze. The moment Robert registered what was standing in front of them, he froze. He knew that tall figure, even at this distance. Ross couldn't so much as scream when scared, but Robert yelled, "What do you want?"

The figure, true to his nature, stepped forward so that the shadows that shrouded him fell away. His expression reminded him of Roy's parents, the way they would enter a room like they owned it but didn't particularly care for it. Then, the faintest of smiles spread across his lips, just small enough for his fangs to glint in the light.

"I've got a fair amount of folks who know what I am," Antoine stated simply, "And for something like me, that's very dangerous."

The vampire took a step towards them, calm and poised. Robert felt like he was ensnared in a hunter's trap. He could run whenever he wanted, but his fear had him paralyzed. Ross next to him was equally still and made less noise than the breeze. Robert faintly wondered if Ross was even breathing.

"I have a strict no witness policy," Antione told them, "And I'm afraid you're on that list."

As the space between them and the vampire grew smaller, Robert's brain screamed at him to run more. The most he could do was tremble like a leaf caught in a storm. He was a wibbly mess beside Ross' perfectly still form. Damn. Even when they both were frozen in fear, he looked squishy next to Ross.

Antione stopped uncomfortably close to them. He reached out a hand and grabbed Ross by the shoulder. Ross let out a muffled squeak.

That was the thing that snapped Robert out of whatever spell of horror had a hold on him. He swung a fist forward. Ross and Roy once taught him how to Punch things without breaking his hand. Robert couldn't really remember the lesson though, so hopefully the pain that surged through his fist when it connected with the vampire's jaw wasn't his bone's shattering.

Antione stumbled back, but his demeanor remained as calm as ever. "Oh, foolish human," he mused, "You can't hurt me in a way that matters. Not like that."

Robert wanted to argue that it worked before (kind of) but all that he could get out of his mouth was incoherent stutters. It wasn't solely fear that had his speech scrambled. Deep within Robert's heart was anger, burning bright and hot enough to melt steel.

Had Robert been able to speak, he would have yelled Leave us alone! Instead, he kicked the vampire in the shins (which did hardly anything, but it made Robert feel accomplished) and grabbed Ross by the collar of his jacket. He bolted down the sidewalk, opposite the direction to Ross' house. Ross was behind him, half being dragged, half attempting to use his feet to follow.

Robert was running on instinct. He didn't think as he crossed streets and passed houses. He didn't know where he was going until he stopped at his own front door. With a shaky hand, he turned the doorknob and stepped inside. Radford, on the couch, glanced at his and Ross' shaking figures.

"You guys okay?" Radford asked.

"Now we are, yeah," Robert spoke through heavy breaths, "But you will not believe who we saw."

Radford asked with some hesitation, "Who?"

Ross momentarily regained his usual repose, and opened his mouth to answer. To Robert's shock, the noise that came out was a strangled sob.

As far as Jaune was concerned, Ross was for all intents and purposes a rough-and-tumble kid. He would often come home with cuts and scrapes from some mysterious hijinx, and answer all questions about them with a shrug. He snuck out so often that she no longer was afraid when she couldn't find him, and she no longer thought that punishment would stop him. Jaune learned to trust Ross; like his father, Ross was unaffected by most everything. She liked to think that was a good thing. It meant that Ross was tough, and tough people could hold their own (even though Jaune would rather coddle him, but she knew that wasn't the right thing to do).

This was the first time Ross had been too shaken up to return home by himself, and that terrified Jaune to her core. She glanced in the rear-view mirror so she could see him in the backseat. He had his arms crossed, fingers dug into the sleeves of his jacket like he was holding on for dear life. He was silent aside for sniffles and a few squeaks, but tears were visibly running down his cheeks. His gaze was affixed firmly to the floor of the car.

"I won't be mad at you if you tell me what happened," Jaune promised, "I just want to know what happened."

Ross didn't move.

"Are you hurt?" she pushed.

Ross shook his head.

That offered her some relief. Still, she'd like to know what had happened. There were so many things that could have happened. Lila had told her of several close scares she'd had with Skid and Pump. And then there was that guy who held kids up for ransom…

She'd try a new tactic. "I talked to Lila today. Her son has an imaginary friend now," Jaune told him, "Do you remember Blabo?"

Ross looked up with confusion. She had his attention.

"You made him up. He talked when you didn't feel like it." She paused. "You were a strange kid."

Ross hiccupped. It might have been a broken laugh. He looked like he might smile in spite of himself.

"Do you think maybe sometimes you still don't feel like talking?" she asked.

Ross nodded. His stare was intent now, purposeful. Jaune wondered why the subject hadn't been brought up sooner.

"Can I do anything to make you more comfortable so you will feel like talking?"

Ross shrugged. In all the fifteen years he'd been alive, Ross never was anything but sure of himself. Any guidance on Jaune's part was given before he could walk headstrong into a huge mistake. For once, he looked at her and she could tell he was completely lost.

"Why don't you feel like talking?" Jaune asked, "Do you not trust me? Are you embarrassed to talk to your mom?"

Ross shook his head. There was a pause. Then, quietly, forced, Ross admitted, "Scared."

"Scared? Of who? Of me?"

Ross shook his head again.

"Of someone else."

Ross nodded.

"Who?"

Ross opened his mouth, and his lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Again?" Jaune prompted.

Ross managed to whisper something this time, but Jaune still could hear.

"That's alright," Jaune said, partially to him and partially to herself, "We'll work something out when we get home. Alright?"

Ross gave her a thumbs up. It did not make Jaune feel any better.

A few uneasy minutes passed, before she heard a quiet, "Oh!" from the backseat. Then, her phone pinged.

Jaune did not condone texting and driving, but she chanced a glance down at her phone's screen anyway. There's a guy that we've been running into.

"Running into? Like at school?" Jaune asked. Jaune didn't condone violence anymore than she condoned texting while driving, but if some punk was bullying her son, well, she might begin to condone it real fast.

Ping. No. A weird guy.

That, in Jaune's opinion, was much, much worse. "What's…" Jaune trailed off. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, and she couldn't think of a single way to word any one of them.

Ping. I think he's going to kill us.

Jaune nearly slammed on the brakes.

"Thank goodness the landlord didn't see me," Kevin sighed as he stepped through the front door, stealing Streber's attention away from the window.

Streber's night had not been particularly great. He'd pretty much spent the entire time Kevin was gone starting out the window and feeling utterly miserable. Kevin had probably been right, he had been dying. The feeling was a burning sensation that started in his stomach and stretched up through his neck to his mouth, and made his canine teeth ache. The fingers on his remaining hand seemed to constantly want to wrap around prey that wasn't there. Kevin returning should have been very relieving.

Instead, it was worse. The moment Kevin stepped through the door, Streber caught the scent of something sweet, and the feeling exploded out of him. He had been too weak to do much of anything before, but now his aching muscles were acting on instinct. He jumped into the air and honed in on Kevin at a speed that frankly started himself.

Kevin, with a look of abject fear (was that Streber's fault? Fuck.), dropped something onto the floor. Streber dived down onto the thing and bit down on it. Whatever it was, it was sweet. Very sweet. With an aftertaste that reminded him of cashews. As his fangs sank into it, the awful burning sensation died down.

Streber blinked. There was a dead squirrel in his mouth.

He slowly looked up at Kevin. He probably would be red with embarrassment now if he still had any blood of his own. "Uh," Streber stammered, "S- Sorry."

Kevin took a few breaths to calm himself down. "At least you didn't die while I was gone."

Strber didn't know what to say. There was a lot to unpack in the moment, and so many impulses that were making it difficult to focus. Despite his disgust, he couldn't help but sink his teeth back into the squirrel's tiny corpse. It was like he was hardwired to do it. And the blood tasted so good…

Which was terrifying! What kind of person enjoys the taste of blood? He willed himself to drop the squirrel, and stand back up. He tried to ignore the fact that he was trembling with fear over the thought of himself.

"Is it… Good?" Kevin asked with apprehension.

"Yeah," Streber answered, voice small.

"That's good. I was afraid it'd suck or something because it wasn't human."

Streber squeaked, "I don't think it's a good thing."

Kevin squeezed his hands together, fidgeting. The blood staining his hands caught Streber's eye, and without thinking about it, Streber's entire body twitched. He squeezed his eyes shut. "You should clean up," Streber suggested. He didn't want to think about how badly he'd wanted to attack Kevin in the prior moment.

"Yeah," Kevin agreed quickly, running to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Streber picked the dead squirrel off the ground, wrinkling his nose despite (or maybe because of) the fact that the scent of its blood was the first appealing thing he'd smelled since he'd turned. For a moment, he wondered if Kevin had killed it himself. Then, he reconsidered.

"Who… Killed this?" Streber wondered.

Chapter Text

"Here you boys go," Lila hummed, placing a plate of cookies in between Skid and Pump.

"Thanks, mom!" Skid chirped, not looking up from the checkers game he and Pump were playing. He was trying to think of what move to make next.

"Thank you, Mrs. Lila!" Pump told her at the same time. He reached for a cookie.

"You're welcome," Lila smiled at them, "I'll be downstairs working, okay?"

"Okay!" both of the boys yelled in unison.

Skid moved one of his black checkers into an adjacent spot. He crossed his arms and announced, "There!"

Pump jumped it with one of his orange pieces (Skid wished he had a special halloween set with orange pieces, but Pump wasn't sure where his parents got it from, only that it was a birthday present), and giggled.

"Aw, what?" Skid whined, "How come you're so good at this?"

"Susie plays with me," Pump answered matter-of-factly, "And she's really hard to beat, so I had to practice lots."

Skid took a cookie and bit into it with a frown. "How do I practice? Mom's always got work she has to do."

Pump shrugged. "It's your turn."

"But there's nowhere to go!" Skid complained.

"You have to move forwards," Pump prompted, "Those are the rules."

"Can't I just give up? There's no way to win," Skid asked.

"Nope!" Pump answered, "Susie said that's not allowed."

Skid sighed and pushed one of his pieces forwards. Pump double jumped his last two remaining pieces. "Darn it!" Skid pouted.

"Let's play again!" Pump suggested.

"No!" Skid insisted, "We should do something else now!"

"Like what?" Pump wondered.

"Hm," Skid hummed as he paused to think. "Want to go on a monster hunt?"

"Yes!" Pump agreed, "Monster hunt! Monster hunt!

"But what monster should we hunt?" Skid wondered.

"What about that vampire?" Pump wondered.

"The mean one that tried to hurt us?" Skid asked, "What about him?"

"Well, vampires are cool and real right?"

Skid nodded.

"But your mom doesn't believe in them," Pump continued, "She thinks Antoine is your imaginary friend."

Skid's mouth opened into an o shape as he realized what Pump was suggesting. "If we find Antoine, we can prove that vampires are real!"

"Exactly!" Pump cheered.

Skid jumped up. "What are we waiting for?" he squealed, "Let's go show my mom that vampires are real!"

"Wait a minute, though," Pump paused to think, "What if he attacks us?"

"Uh," Skid hesitated. He wasn't all that scared of Antione before. Angry, sure, but not scared. Antoine was spooky, and that was cool. He supposed that it wouldn't hurt to be equipped though. "I've got an idea!"

Skid grabbed Pump by the sleeve, and ran out of his room. Their footsteps boomed through the hallway and down the stairs as Skid guided his friend into the kitchen. Skid let go of Pump's arm, and began to poke around the cabinets. He heard something shuffle behind him, but paid it no mind. Finally, he found what he was looking for: two cloves of garlic. He turned around and jumped at what he saw.

"Pump! Put that down!" Skid insisted.

Pump glanced at the knife in his hand. "But it's a weapon!"

"We can't play with those!" Skid reminded him, "We could get hurt! Remember the Happy Fella?"

Pump grimaced and put the knife back on the cutting board where he found it. "He got us in trouble with my sister."

"We'll get in trouble with your sister a third time if anyone sees us with a knife ever again," Skid warned.

"I put it away!" Pump yelped.

"Here, take this instead," Skid offered, holding out one of the garlic cloves.

"Ooh," Pump breathed, "Even better!" He turned the garlic clove over in his hands. He sniffed it, then made a face.

Following his example, Skid gave the garlic clove a tiny lick, then made an equally repulsed expression. "It's real," Skid decided.

"Let's go!" Pump announced.

The two ten-year-olds ran out of the kitchen and into the front room. "Bye mom! We're going out!" Skid yelled without stopping.

"Don't forget your coat!" Lila shouted back as Skid closed the door.

Skid paused and held out a hand as he stood on the front porch. "Hm," he thought aloud, "Nope! It's warm enough without a coat!"

"What if it gets colder?" Pump asked.

"It won't," Skid shrugged, "Isn't it supposed to get warmer the longer the day goes?"

Pump wondered for a moment. "I think so!"

"It will be fine, I think!" Skid declared, "How long could it take to find a vampire?"

"Why is he here?" Roy asked, pouting.

"Rad thinks it'd be safer to drive us this time," Robert explained, gesturing to his brother.

"What?" Roy shouted, "Why on Earth would we need to be kept safe? We can look out for ourselves!"

"Listen, you can complain all you want," Radford sighed, "I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble. I'm not taking any chances with that crazy guy out there."

"Crazy guy?" Roy asked. He turned to Robert. "What is he talking about?"

Robert looked away. "Uh. He's talking about… The… Vampire," Robert answered slowly.

Roy blinked. "The haunted house guy? He's harmless."

"No, the other one," Robert pointed out, voice low and hesitant, almost like he was ashamed of this fact that was out of his hands, "From the movie theater."

Roy had to pause a moment to find words to say. "N- no," he stammered, "He's in jail."

"I guess you kinda can't send vampires to jail," Robert shrugged, "They're vampires."

"The cops here are useless anyways," Radford pointed out, "Convicts are constantly escaping. Like, did you know they lost that crazy cannibal guy? I hear he's dead now, but goodness."

Roy glanced at Robert. Robert smiled back apologetically. Of course they knew that guy got away. They faced that guy too, albeit very briefly. Roy had half a mind to chance after him and get their candy back then, but there were bigger fish to fry, and Roy had promptly been plucked out of the situation by his parents. The solution then had been just to hand over his own candy to Robert- and boy, was his mom mad about it -And let his parents take him home. Roy probably would have chosen chasing the cannibal over going home if he had the choice.

Roy had a million things in mind to say to Robert now, looking at that stupid, squishy, loser smile. Robert, who had gotten him in trouble after he told his mom that they'd stolen candy because he "felt bad about it." Robert, who stopped a quest to go egging houses one year because he felt bad lying to his parents about where he was going. Robert, who almost blew their chances at sneaking into the movies, and only didn't ruin it because Radford agreed to be their accomplice. Robert, who apparently couldn't hold his tongue about any manner of schemes or trickery, but apparently could hide from his entire family that he'd encountered a serial killer cannibal.

But Roy hadn't told anyone either, so he swallowed his angry words. Besides, if there were anything out there to make Robert act like less of a loser, this would be it. Roy's glare morphed into a wicked grin. "Wow, I didn't know that!" Roy lied, "It's really lucky that the guy didn't hurt anybody!"

"He hurt the haunted house guy, remember?" Robert pointed out.

Roy smirked. "Oh yeah. Maybe we do know."

Robert scowled at Roy with such intensity that Roy almost thought that he was going to punch him. Almost. Robert didn't do that.

"You probably heard of it in passing," Radford pointed out.

"Yeah, probably," Roy stifled a laugh. Robert was still staring daggers at him, and Roy wondered just how angry he was.

Robert crossed his arms. "Not that you'd care," he huffed, "But the vampire guy totally attacked Ross and me last night. That's why Rad wants to drive us."

Roy's smile faded. "Wait, for real?"

"Why would I lie about that?"

"I dunno," Roy admitted, "I'm sure if you did, you'd have a good reason."

"Man, you're real messed up if you think I'm just going to lie to you about something like that," Robert winced.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Roy ignored the prior statement, "And what did you mean by 'not like you would care'?"

Robert shrugged. "I guess I was a little frustrated, that's all."

Roy rolled his eyes. "What a stupid thing to say."

"Well I'm sorry," Robert snapped, "But sometimes it can be hard to tell!"

Robert's frustration visibly transformed into realization before Roy's eyes. Roy wanted to believe that it had nothing to do with the way he flinched away from the accusation, the way he felt genuinely hurt by Robert's words. Roy crossed his arms and glared out the car window in an attempt to appear as though he didn't care, but the best he managed was the face of a stubborn child who'd just finished throwing a tantrum. He chanced a glance back at Robert, hoping that he could make it look like he wasn't. Robert had a hand half outstretched to him, mouth hanging slightly open like he wanted to say something. Knowing Robert, he was thinking of apologizing. That kind of loser behavior didn't do anything but make him look like a loser; Roy hoped he'd keep it to himself. There was no way that Roy would ever want anyone to apologize to him, no sir!

The car slowed to a stop, and Roy's attention turned back to his window. They were outside Ross' house. Without a word, he exited the car, closing his door behind him even though he knew that Robert was trying to follow behind him. Robert looked properly pissed again after having the door slammed in his face and then having to open the door for himself, which satisfied Roy. Then Robert's anger melted back into that guilty, apologetic frown he often wore, because somehow Robert was perfect in ways Roy could never be- Not that Roy would even want to be like Robert, but seeing his anger evaporate was significantly less satisfying.

"Have fun, stay safe!" Radford yelled at them as they walked away from the car. Roy was certain he was either oblivious to the conflict, or didn't want to involve himself. Didn't matter, since Radford began to drive away after having dropped them off.

That was something Roy liked: things not mattering. He stole a costume from some kids on Halloween? Didn't matter because his mom only cared about what the costume was, not where it came from. He got attacked by a vampire at a movie theater? Didn't matter because he survived, and his friends survived, and even the little Halloween brat survived, so why should he care? Robert told him that it was difficult for his friends to tell whether or not he actually cared for them? Didn't matter because his feelings weren't at all hurt, and he didn't need or want an apology.

Roy knocked on Ross' front door. The door opened slowly, and Jaune had her head peeked out the door before it had fully opened. Seeing the two boys on her doorstep, she smiled, and welcomed them inside.

"Ross is in his room," Jaune told them, "I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. He's been pretty frowny lately."

Roy looked at Robert, and Robert shrugged. Ross wasn't exactly a smiley person, so it shouldn't have been all that shocking to Jaune that he wasn't smiling. In fact, Roy would probably describe Ross as a frowny guy overall.

Roy began to head to Ross' room. Behind him, Robert told Jaune, "Thank you, Ma'am."

Roy scoffed and rolled his eyes. He'd call Robert a suck-up if he didn't know that Robert was probably the only one keeping everyone's parents okay with the three boys hanging out together. Okay, so Roy's mom and dad have been trying to break up their friend group since day one, but Roy could handle them! It was the other two's parents he was worried about more, and Robert was the sole good influence keeping the Hatzgang in good graces.

Roy lingered outside Ross' door just long enough for Robert to catch up. Robert lifted a hand to knock, but Roy opened the door before he could. Robert gave him a withering look.

The moment Roy saw him, he understood why Jaune said that Ross looked "frowny." The guy didn't look the near-sadness apathetic he usually looked. He looked like he'd seen a ghost, and then the ghost told him that it'd be right back with friends. The expression eased as Robert and Roy entered his room, but the emotion lingered in the air. Roy couldn't help but feel unease. If Ross felt a certain way, if his emotions were plain, it set off alarm bells in Roy's head.

"What the hell is up with you?" Roy asked.

Ross shrugged. "I'm sick of this place."

"What do you mean?" Robert asked.

"Think of everything we've seen here. Crazy serial killers, haunted dolls, weird monsters," Ross explained, "What's wrong with this town?"

Roy huffed, "Suck it up. There's weird stuff everywhere. Ever heard of Florida?"

"There's a difference between some weirdo wrangling crocodiles and actual fucking vampires," Ross hissed.

"Yeah," Robert agreed, "Florida's probably too sunny for vampires."

"Come on! You don't even like sunny weather!" Roy groaned, gesturing to Ross.

"Sure, but if it will get rid of all the freaky stuff here, I'd learn to like it," Ross countered.

"You want to get rid of that vampire? Fine," Roy rolled his eyes, "We'll get rid of the vampire."

Robert and Ross stared at Roy, eyes wide. "What?" Ross whispered.

"We can't do that; we'll get killed!" Robert added, "Besides, what would our parents think?"

Roy grimaced. "Fine. I'll get rid of the vampire."

"What!" Ross yelled. Ross officially had gone back to being unreadable in expression, but from his voice, Roy was certain he was furious at him.

"You heard me!" Roy snapped, "Why are you both being such pansies about it?"

Robert resigned himself to the title of pansy, but Ross wasn't so easy to push around. "Listen, I don't know what's wrong with me. All I know is that last night I was so… I don't know, scared? That I couldn't say anything for the rest of the night," Ross explained, the anger in his voice steady and subdued, "And it's not like I haven't noticed a pattern like this whenever something bad happens, but that was the worst it's ever been. I will not be called a pansy over it."

Part of Roy did wish that he hadn't said it. Ross was undoubtedly braver than he was, so Roy felt as though he'd insulted himself by saying it. Roy wasn't going to back down, though. When he backed himself into a corner, he tried to find a way to break the wall his back was to.

"If you two won't do it, you can stay here. I can take the guy."

"But what if you can't?" Robert asked, "What if he kills you instead?"

"So?" Roy huffed.

"What do you mean 'So?'" Ross argued.

"You think my parents care?" Roy asked, "You think anyone cares?"

"I care," Robert muttered, looking down at the floor.

Ross stared down Roy with clenched teeth. Finally, he sighed. "We both care."

For the first time since the movie theater, Roy felt wanted, loved. It was an overwhelming feeling. Roy murmured, "Okay, whatever."

There was an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air. Finally, Robert broke it. "If you're going, I'm going."

"Yeah," Ross agreed, "There's no way I'm letting you die out there."

"Good. Not that I would die," Roy grumbled, "What do you kill vampires with, anyways?" He picked up a pocket knife that was resting on Ross' dresser.

"Not like that," Robert sighed with a smile, "We could get him in sunlight, we could hit him with holy water or a cross, garlic…"

"Wooden stake," Ross reminded him.

"Ooh," Roy hummed with a devious grin, "Ross, your dad taught you how to carve, right?"

Ross shrugged, "I suck at it."

"But you could make us a stake, right?" Roy coaxed.

"That's probably the least best option," Ross pointed out.

"It will look the coolest," Roy shot back.

Ross let out a long sigh. "Fine. Alright," he gave in, "Let me see if I can find anything to work with."

I might get these finished tonight, Lila thought to herself, So long as I keep up this pace.

Naturally, fate had other plans. Her cell phone began ringing. Lila sighed, and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Hey Lila," greeted the voice on the other side. Lila noted that it wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as usual.

"Hey Jaune!" Lila replied, "What's up?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Well," Jaune continued with some hesitation, "My son told me something yesterday, and I'm very concerned."

"Oh?" Lila wondered. There were a lot of things to be concerned about when it came to children, especially kids Ross' age. There were also a plethora of things to be concerned about when it came to this town. The real concern, though, was that Jaune was hardly ever worried unless it was serious.

Jaune laughed nervously on the other end. "Yeah, he asked me to pick him up yesterday night, even though he usually walks himself home," Jaune explained, "And he was very visibly scared of something, and he wouldn't- maybe couldn't? -talk about it."

"That's… Strange," Lila commented. Lila didn't know Ross well, but she knew enough about him to know that he was as scrappy as his dad and as carefree as his mom.

"And when he did tell me what was wrong…" Jaune trailed off, "There's someone dangerous out there."

"What do you mean?" Lila asked. She couldn't help but think of Skid and Pump out there by themselves.

"Ross said-" Jaune's voice sounded strained and nearly broke. Jaune paused and took a deep breath. "Ross said someone tried to kill him."

Lila froze. "Was he threatened by an older kid?" She hated to imagine poor Skid and Pump being bullied by anyone.

"No," Jaune answered, "He said a strange man followed him and his friends?"

"He was mugged, then?" Lila reasoned, "In that case, we should figure out which streets to avoid. I should tell the boys."

"He said the man's been following them," Jaune explained.

Lila could hardly get the words out. "Following them?"

"Yeah." Jaune's words were forced.

Lila could imagine how Jaune felt, because she felt the same way right now. Anxiety was churning within her as every single scenario flashed through her mind. Skid and Pump, they weren't irresponsible or stupid, but they believed the best of most people. They understood stranger danger, but not what distinguished a stranger from an acquaintance, and they were much more likely to believe the latter. Skid and Pump, by themselves, outside, with a lunatic. It wasn't the first time (and Lila grimaced at that realization), but Lila fought like hell then, and she was more than willing to fight like hell a second time if it meant keeping her son and his friend safe.

"I'll be over in five minutes."

Lila managed to break her personal record and show up at Jaune's house in three minutes instead. She was out of breath from running, cold from forgetting her coat, and more than a little disheartened that she didn't see Skid and Pump on the way there. Jaune opened the door with a frown that ended in a point like a triangle that was missing its base, her eyebrows knit with concern. Lila hadn't seen Jaune so anxious in many years.

"Thank you so much for coming," Jaune sighed.

"I couldn't not," Lila replied, "My kid runs around unsupervised just as much as yours."

"What do you think we should do?" Jaune asked, "Should we search for him ourselves like we did when…" Jaune trailed off. That still wasn't a thing she liked to talk about. She didn't really like to think about it either.

"I think we should contact authorities," Lila told her, "Tell the police what this guy looks like. Then, I want to look for Skid and Pump. They need to come home."

Jaune rubbed her arm. "Yeah," she agreed, "I told Ross to stay home until this gets cleared up, but… I'm not sure if he will."

"What do you mean?" Lila asked.

"Oh, you know how boys can be," she muttered, looking down.

Lila didn't know. Skid was notorious for running out of the house without telling her, but he was always too loud for her not to know where he went. "Well," Lila hummed, "I suppose I should call the police. You should ask Ross for a description of the guy."

"Good idea," Jaune agreed. She walked away from the front room into the hall.

Lila pulled out her phone, and had just typed in '9' when Jaune came running back. "They're gone," she squeaked.

Lila looked up at her in confusion. "They're gone?"

"Ross and Robert and the little rude one," Jaune explained, "They're not there anymore!"

"Where'd they go?" Lila asked.

"I don't know!" Jaune admitted, "This is what I was talking about!"

That was a lot to take in, but Lila decided that she'd have to think about the implications of Ross being a frequent run-away (if one could call it that) later. "We're going straight to the station, then," Lila decided.

John swirled the coffee in his mug around. He had thought he'd be used to things not making sense by now, with the cult and everything, but this was a new kind of confusing. Two nights ago, he and Jack had taken in a criminal and locked him in a cell. Yesterday night, he vanished. The cell was still locked, the window was sealed, the walls were intact. It was as if the prisoner himself had turned to mist.

"Maybe he slid between the bars?" Jack wondered, staring hard at the iron bars that had held the prisoner in his cell. Jack stuck his hand through, struggling to get more of his arm than his elbow to fit.

"Jack, stop. You're going to get stuck," John sighed. He sipped his coffee. "No one could fit through those bars."

Jack removed his arm from between the bars. He hummed in thought as he stared into the empty cell. It reminded John of how Jack looked during interrogations. Not mean or threatening; no, Jack didn't play bad cop- neither of them did. John looked like he perpetually does, sad and tired, but Jack looked like a stern mother who had caught you in the act and was demanding an explanation. It was shockingly effective against criminals, but John doubted the cell would start talking, no matter how scrutinizing the gaze.

John watched in fascination as Jack unlocked the empty cell, and walked inside. Part of him wanted to stop Jack, or at least ask him what he was doing, but John was out of ideas and open to suggestions. At least Jack was doing something. Even if 'something' was pressing his hands against the stone bricks of the prison cell walls.

"What are you hoping to accomplish?" John asked. His patience had caught up to him. He didn't want to waste anymore time, considering they didn't have much to begin with.

"One of these has to be loose," Jack reasoned, "He had to have made himself a hole, then sealed it up again. There's no way he could have gotten out otherwise."

John couldn't help but wince. John was prone to investigating to an obsessive degree, but even he had never sounded so desperate. Times were rough. This was their fourth lost convict in the past few weeks, and they could not afford to let Evermore find out. John wanted to call the threat of replacement a bluff, but he doubted the two officers that Evermore had shown them were paid actors. The fact that there was no conceivable method of escape for their ex-prisoner was salt in the wound.

"No damage, no prints," John sighed, "I just wished we had a lead. Any lead at all."

As if to prove that the world answers in the strangest ways, two women burst through the station doors. They stopped to catch their breath before turning to John. One was purple. There was no other way to describe her. Everything from her hair to her shoes was purple. The other lady, blonde, and wearing a dress the color of the midday sun with orange accents, was yellow. Purple and Yellow.

John recognized the women. Hadn't these two been the ones to figure out the location of Bob Velseb? Purple, mother of the skeleton boy, and Yellow, who was the mother of… Well, John didn't exactly remember what the kid looked like, but when he and Yellow found him later that night, he stayed silent the whole way home, eyeing John nervously. John had a feeling that kid was up to no good, but he had bigger things to worry about than a disruptive teen.

"What seems to be the problem?" John asked. He was trying and failing to mask the exhaustion in his voice.

Both women opened their mouths to speak, then looked at each other without saying a word. John felt a kinship with their lost expressions.

Yellow spoke first. "My son says a man tried to kill him last night," the woman explained, "He said that this wasn't the first time he'd encountered him."

John's brain immediately launched into problem-solving mode. He could see the entire story now. A kid who was mixed up in the wrong group got into trouble and was being targeted by some thug or gang.

"Yeah, he'd been seen before, uh, at…" Purple started. She looked back over to Yellow. John had the impression that Yellow knew more about the situation.

"The movie theater," Yellow finished, "I don't know when. He wouldn't tell me."

John raised an eyebrow at that. Who were these women, and how did they have an uncanny ability to find the criminals he and Jack had been searching for? "At the movie theater?" he probed.

Yellow nodded. "My son told me very little, but I'm hoping with your help, we can identify-"

"We know who it is," John interrupted.

"What?" both women asked in unison.

"Rest assured, we are doing everything in our power to find that man," John told them.

Jack finally joined the group, exiting the empty cell with a defeated sign. "I couldn't find anything."

John pointed to Yellow and Purple. He should really get around to learning their names. "We have a lead."

Jack glanced at the pair of women. "Aren't you from the Velseb case?" he asked them.

"The demon guy who tried to kill us?" Purple asked.

Yellow let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah…"

"And you know where our escapee is this time, too?" Jack wondered. John elbowed him with a glare. From the 'stern mother' expression begin to reform on Jack's face, John knew that Jack probably meant to sound suspicious, but it instead sounded incompetent.

"Escapee?" asked Yellow.

Purple grit her teeth. "You let this one get away too?" she accused.

"Uh oh," Jack mumbled.

"We'll get him back," John promised, raising his hands in defense; he wasn't sure if he was talking to Jack or the women. "We should work together."

Jack gave him a strange look. John didn't need to be told it was a bad idea, though. He was well aware that it was a desperate move, but it was a move. They needed to move. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if there was ever a time to be desperate, it was now.

Purple stared him down with the fury of a mother looking out for her child. He could relate in a way, and he could sympathize even more. Behind her taut mouth were unspoken words, he could tell. Probably all manner of ways to tell him that he sucked at his job and that she hoped god would save him from her should anything happen to her boy because of this. She was masterfully silent.

"Okay," Yellow agreed.

Purple was quick to follow. "Okay, we'll do it."

"It's not… It's not wrong, right?" Kevin asked. He was still processing what he'd just been told. "They're someone else's responsibility."

Dexter didn't answer. He just rolled his eyes.

"Besides, it's not like they'll find him," Kevin reasoned, "They'll get bored and go home."

"Not unless he wants to get found," Dexter shrugged.

Kevin glanced at the doll. "But he wouldn't want to, right?"

"How should I know?" Dexter asked, "I hardly know how I'm still alive." He looked down at his cotton-stuffed hands. "Well, kinda."

Kevin huffed. "This isn't about you. This is about two kids about to run head-first into danger."

"I didn't say it was about me!" Dexter argued, "And for the record, I don't care if those kids get themselves killed. Look at me! I'm a toy now!"

"That's not their fault."

"It absolutely is," Dexter insisted.

"I don't have time to argue with you about this," Kevin snapped, "Do you really think that the vampire guy is out there and wants to be found?"

The jingle of the front bell cut the conversation short. A familiar voice, scratchy and rude, told him, "Have you gone so delusional that you're talking to the candy now?"

Oh. These three. What were their names again? Roy, Ross, and Robert? Something like that.

"I'll have you know that I was talking to him," Kevin corrected, poking a finger against the plastic tube that Dexter had taken up residence in.

"A doll?" Roy scoffed.

"A Happy Fella doll!" Robert gasped, "Just like my sister's! That's awesome!"

"It's not awesome!" Roy retorted, "It's freak behavior!"

"Hey! My sis talks to her doll!" Robert snapped at him.

"It is weird," Ross pointed out. Kevin had forgotten how quietly this kid spoke. "He's, like, forty or something."

Kevin gasped. "forty?" he yelped, "You think I'm forty?"

"Yeah, you're old, whatever," Roy brushed him off, "Do you sell energy drinks?"

"Uh… Yeah," Kevin answered. There was a small fridge in the corner near the front counter, the kind that has sliding doors and branding on the top and sides. It was easy to miss, so many children passed it by, but it was crammed full of sodas, energy drinks, and a couple bottles of water. Kevin retrieved three drinks from within, one of each flavor they had: Watermelon, green apple, and blue raspberry.

Kevin put the three drinks on the counter. "These are the three flavors I have."

Roy slammed a ten dollar bill on the counter. Kevin swore one day the kid would ram his money-clenching fist down onto the counter and the glass would shatter. "We'll take it."

"Don't you care about the flavor?" Kevin asked. He looked over the three kids with uncertainty.

"Naw," Roy shrugged, "We need this for work we have to do."

"Work?" Kevin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah! Work!" Roy replied curtly.

"By work do you mean trouble?" Kevin asked.

"No," Roy insisted. Ross nodded his agreement.

Kevin focused his gaze on Robert (and it wasn't lost on him that Roy was also staring at Robert furiously). Robert's eyes darted from Roy to Kevin, back and forth, back and forth. When Kevin had known Radford, Rad hadn't exactly been a pushover, but he was good-natured and polite, as was the rest of his family. It had been particularly easy to get Radford to confess to any pranks he pulled back in high school. Robert seemed to be even easier to work with. It was like Radford's hesitant honesty dialed up to one hundred.

"Maybe a little," Robert admitted with an apologetic smile. He held up a hand and pinched his thumb and index finger together, as if to accentuate how little the trouble was.

"Robert!" Roy hissed.

"Dude," Ross mumbled.

"Sorry," Robert squeaked, his grin growing wider and someone more anxious as his eyes darted to the ground. He let out a strangled, nervous chuckle as color rushed to his cheeks.

"What are you three getting into?" Kevin sighed. Way too much was going on right now. The world never seemed to give him a break, though. Kevin was used to working overtime. What was a little more overtime off the clock?

"Nothing," the three boys replied in unison. They each held it out, a telltale sign they were lying. Not that Kevin even needed a sign that they were lying in the first place, since they'd just told him that they weren't doing nothing, and that they were getting into trouble.

"By the way," Roy added, trying too hard to sound casual, "Does your vampire friend happen to have the power to feel where other vampires are? We're trying to… Settle an argument. About vampire powers."

"They totally can!" Ross suddenly entered the conversation.

"Cannot!" Roy barked, but unlike the other times he yelled, he had a sly smile instead of a hateful glare. Roy turned back to Kevin. "So anyways, could you tell us? Y'know, help us with our argument. And maybe if he can, could you tell us where-"

"You're hunting the vampire, aren't you?" Kevin interrupted. Even with Ross vouching for him with a sudden break into an argument, the pause to think during Roy's excuse was a dead giveaway. Kevin had been through high school, a few college classes (before he dropped out), and work here at the Candy Club, and through each he had an uncanny amount of encounters on excuses, both others' and his own. There was a lot that you could get past Kevin, but improvised excuses were not one of them. He had to hand it to them, though. Ross jumping in was smart.

Roy frowned. "Can you help or not?" he asked, grabbing the energy drinks from the counter and handing off two to his friends at random. Ross and Robert both read their flavor labels, then traded drinks.

"No, I'd rather not have a hand in your untimely demise," Kevin hummed, "You kids should just go home."

Ross and Robert smiled at the idea, but Roy grimaced. "Uck," he groaned, "No way! I'm going to kill that guy!"

"It's your funeral," Kevin shrugged.

"Maybe literally," Robert gulped.

"If you want to go home, go home!" Roy sighed in exasperation.

"N- no!" Robert insisted.

Roy rolled his eyes. He glared at Kevin. "Stop trying to scare us."

"You should be scared!" Kevin argued, "You're hunting a vampire! A vampire that has turned people! A vampire that has tried to kill you!"

"Stop being such a loser," Roy groaned, "The point is to kill him before he kills us." He turned around. "Let's go, guys."

"Hey! Wait!" Kevin called out to them. They ignored his pleas and exited the store. To his credit, Robert did spare him an uneasy glance on his way out.

Kevin heaved a heavy sigh. "Well. I did my best."

"Did you?" Dexter asked.

Kevin scowled at the doll. "Why do you care?" he growled.

"Oh, I don't," Dexter shrugged, "But you do."

Kevin clenched his jaw. "What do you want from me?" Kevin hissed between his teeth.

"Just to see you pissed," Dexter admitted.

Kevin considered his next actions very carefully, and decided yes, he was angry enough to follow through with it. He stomped across the room, and stuck his hand through the candy dispenser of Dexter's tube. The actual lever and blockage had been removed; it had broken off months ago, and instead of fixing or replacing it, his boss had suggested just sticking some decoration inside the unusable tube. Kevin reached his arm into the tube with ease, and grabbed Dexter by the ankle. With a yank, he pulled him out of the tube.

"Woah, woah, hey!" Dexter yelled, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to stop those kids from dying I guess" Kevin told him, his voice dripping with malice, "And you're going to help me."

"What?" Dexter screamed, "I will do no such thing!"

"I thought you liked killing things," Kevin pointed out dryly, "And a vampire would be a pretty cool kill to satisfy your needs with."

"Pfft. Please. If I wanted to kill a vampire, I'd stab your stupid boyfriend," Dexter huffed.

"Hey!" Kevin shouted. He jostled Dexter up and down, which he couldn't imagine being pleasant considering that Dexter was hanging upside down by his ankle. He hoped what he said next would be worse than unpleasant. "If you don't help me or if you say that again, I will hand you over to Skid's mom."

Dexter let out a frustrated yell. "Is that your only way of dealing with me?"

There was a pause in which Dexter glared at Kevin while Kevin smirked back. Dexter's glare became less sure as time crawled on.

"Okay, I'll help!" Dexter agreed, "Just promise me no lavender lady!"

"I promise I won't hand you over to her so long as you behave," Kevin agreed.

"Alright," Dexter gave in, "Deal." He held out a hand to kevin.

Kevin shook it with the hand that wasn't dangling Dexter upside down. He wasn't sure if the handshake was awkward because Dexter was at such a weird angle hanging upside, or if it was because Dexter's hands were made of fabric.