Red Nightmares at Midnight

Thank Christ. Two weeks later saw the platinum haired hunter up and moving around like nothing had happened that night. Dante’d thought about it a lot, though, something still didn’t sit right about that whole situation. But he ruminated quietly, as was his wont. Merely doing his job and lurking around in his study kept him occupied whilst Douglass went about her business. They exchanged pleasantries whenever paths crossed, either on the way to the kitchen or respective bedrooms. White flags had been waved, seemed like and neither wanted to trip the fragile chains of trust just yet. Was noisy for everyone. This evening saw Dante rather abruptly awakened around two pm by a grouchy Harris; seemed the Captain still hadn’t gotten the final report on that little incident. “Yeah,” Dante growled to no one as he typed up the sheet, “that’s cause I haven’t done it yet, you prick.” Lucille clicked. “Not a word, woman,” he threatened, giving the ceiling a scathing glance. The mainframe remained silent. He’d put off the chore because he still wasn’t sure exactly what had went down, demons usually didn’t act like that. Not using sex as a means to hunt meat. But fuck, there was a first time for everything. He was still waiting for the backlash that was sure to accompany the destruction of Damien’s church. Hn, he might have to pay Marco a little visit here shortly. It’d been over a month and still nothing quite odd, save for this little incident at the whorehouse, but the two didn’t seem connected. But he saved the sheet and emailed it to the irate captain, using an untraceable address. “There,” he muttered, “that should shut up the little prick.” Lucille confirmed the delivery. “Good girl,” he thanked her, exiting his study in search of food. A quick glance at the wall clock revealed the time about four pm. Christ, had it taken him a good hour to type all that shit? “I need to get paid extra for that mess,” he grumbled, rummaging around in the fridge. Chili. That sounded good. Hauling out ingredients, he prattled on while he worked. He wasn’t really talking to himself, he justified it by telling himself Lucille was listening. Which she was and would interject with appropriate comments when needed. But the delicious smells of barbeque and simmering spices began to fill the kitchen as the huge pot started to boil. Leaning idly against the counter, Dante absently thumbed through a magazine he’d picked up a few days ago, looking for spare gun parts. He figured it was time to haul out the old stuff and get it refurbished so he could sell it. Alleviate boredom, in any case. And he liked restoring guns. Swords too. Eh, might as well just spring-clean, he thought with a chuckle.




Douglass : Two weeks or so had passed since his return from the hospital; and damn what first few days they were. No doubt the wounds his body had endured were painful; but he almost sounded like a child the way he whined about being an invalid; luckily it only lasted for two days or so; then he seemed better. Douglass had gone about her training; working diligently to get back up to speed; the duration of the nightmares had caused too much deterioration; and she ached every night after working out. Once they had gone out; Dante's order; for a surveillance run; her physical ability may have faltered a tad, but her awareness to the supernatural was becoming increasingly sharp. She was picking up on things more readily now; small deviants in gestures and postures pointed out demonic presence; but with little to no feeding going on; the two just let the bastards go about their business. Dee had been missing the sun something terrible; so finally she decided to take a day and head to town; besides she needed shower supplies and a few other things; and it was likely that Dante wouldn't mind if she picked up some groceries. On her way out of the grocery store; a young woman stopped her; they exchanged polite conversation and Douglass walked away with a flyer, and a smile. Maybe it was time for the two to go out again; she'd have to see how he was feeling. Parcels and bags all loaded up; she headed for home; hoping that Dante would be awake. At the rate she was going; she'd have just enough time to ask him and change before they'd have to head out. That thought in mind, she pressed the accelerator a little harder; pushing the Durango a little faster for sake of a few extra minutes. Her hair was pulled back in a neat French-braid, that wouldn't have to change; but her jogging pants and tank-top weren't exactly appropriate for theater of any caliber. Dust flew up all around the red Durango as it bounded down the un-paved road; as she entered onto the lift, she greeted Lucille and quickly ran over a plan of action; first the groceries would have to get put away; then she'd have to take her crap into her room; and somewhere in there she'd need to talk to Dante; or wake him up; then she'd have to change; the show started around seven. "Lucy, where's Dante at?" "He's in the kitchen." "He's awake?" the fact surprised her. "Yes Douglass, and cooking." She laughed; well shit this might be easier than she thought. Loading arms with bags, a leg jittered as the elevator descended into the living area; letting a few of the bags slip from her wrist in the hall; the bags that didn't need to go into the kitchen; she hustled in. "Damn, something smells good." Letting the heavy parcels fall to the counter, she quickly began putting away the perishables; "You wouldn't happen to have plans for tonight would you?"




He didn’t really pay much attention as the gears began to whirr in the upstairs lift; Dante was more or less resigned to the fact that he shared living space with another sentient being. The only thought that flitted through his mind as he absently circled items he wanted to order in the magazine was that Douglass was back from wherever she’d been. But he heard the lift lower to the living quarters and heard the plastic rustling; good Christ what had the woman purchased now? Something thumping to the floor greeted his ears as he lowered his magazine to watch the doorway, pen caught between his teeth, a brow flicked. But there she was, bustling like something possessed, all smiles and flushed cheeks, from the wind, he figured, plunking down white plastic bags on either side of him on the counter. Hn, groceries, he realized, peering into one. But he blinked as she just puttered around him, putting the cold stuff in the fridge. “That’s fine, I’m just a pylon anyways, you can go around, Douglass,” he told her wryly. But he just shook his head and chuckled a bit, turning the page, spying another something he wanted and circled it, returning the pen to his mouth, the better for gnawing. “It’s chili. About a week’s worth.” But the last question made him blink and actually think a bit. A sharp brow quirked again. “Usually I’d ask why before I answer…”




Douglass : She rolled her eyes as he noted her working around him; was his place, damn it if she'd ask him to move for her. "Well if you don't have any other prior engagements; I'd like to ask if you might want to accompany me on a little outing tonight. Only thing is; got to be there by seven, so I'm in a bit of a crunch." All the groceries had been put away; at least in temporary places for the time being; gathering up the bags she wadded them all up and tossed them into a recycling container, flashing him a quick smirk as she passed by on her way out of the room. "I've got a few more things to put away and I need to change; you want to come see a show?" She was making her way down the hall as she spoke; whether he came or not, she was going.




“A show?” he echoed, stirring the pot one more time before turning off the stove. But she hurried out of the kitchen before he could inquire further, typical. Placing the lid on the pot, he ambled out of the kitchen, following down the hall. “What kind of show?” he hollered from her bedroom doorway, not wanting to intrude on anything personal. “And it’s only three-fifteen, what’s the hurry?”




Douglass : "It's a play, by some young, aspiring actors. A musical even." She exited the bathroom, pushing a few bobby-pins into the braid to keep it from coming loose; as she bustled over to her closet. "Well I need to make a stop or two first; God only knows that the florists will be out of anything decent near the theater; so I'll probably have to go across town. Also I figured if you came along I could at least treat you to dinner." She sifted through clothes; pulling out a few articles and then tossing them back when they weren't what she was looking for.




“A musical?” Jesus, quit being a parrot, Dante, he chided himself with a snort. But his lips twitched. “Well, doesn’t sound too bad. I’m guessing casual? And Mickey D’s or Shoney’s for dinner?” he teased with a wink. “And it takes that long to get flowers? Good Christ, remind me to go into the floral business when I retire, if they’re that busy.”




Douglass : Giving him a patronized glance over her shoulder she turned back to her wardrobe; finally pulling out the jeans she'd been looking for. "Well Mc Donalds would work; might even be appropriate but I was thinking Italian; I'm dying for a good plate of Pesto." Tossing the jeans onto the bed, she stood up and began to riffle through the clothes on hangers; that was the stuff she didn't wear very often. "And yeah, casual is best; I'm just gonna wear jeans and a sweater."




“Olive Garden, then. That’ll work.” He nodded. “And how about jeans and a polo shirt? Complete with jacket. Me and sweaters…no.” But he slapped the door frame and sighed a bit, heading to his room to change into decent jeans and a dark blue shirt, complete with boots and leather jacket. Took him about five minutes. That done, Dante strolled back into the living room, whistling off key between his teeth as he waited.




Douglass : She joined him not a minute later; dressed in dark blue jeans and a light pink; cashmere sweater with a white tank top underneath; a pair of white running shoes topped off the outfit; by damn she could almost pass as an older sister; or maybe a mom looking like that. "Well you ready then?" Twirling the keys to the Durango on her right index finger she waited just outside the living room door.




He flicked a brow at her outfit but said nothing, he knew better. But he nodded, getting out of his recliner. “When you are, Miss McQue. Lead on,” he intoned, making a gesture with his right hand at the lift, chuckling a bit. “Go whither you will, I shall follow. Amazingly,” he muttered under his breath. But he grinned, couldn’t help it. “And my chili gets cold, damnit. Eh, but there’s always tomorrow.”




Douglass : "Reheated chili is the best;" she was very tempted to turn around and smack him. However she restrained herself; slipping into the automobile she awaited him to do the likewise; once both were settled, they were on their way; the sun was beginning it's nightly descent to the other side of the world as the Durango hummed along the roads; making the familiar turns along the way. In less than an hour they pulled into the parking lot of a small Italian place, just north of the harbor. "I know it's not the Olive Garden; but after you taste the food you'll thank me. Conroy brought me here once." It was a petite little place, with a nice patio encircled by grape vines and other lush greenery. An Italian style fountain trickled peacefully near the front entrance, and the smells from inside were enough to make anyone's mouth water. A hostess greeted them; "Two?" Douglass nodded, "Would you like to sit inside or out on the patio?" Glancing at Dante, she thought for a moment; "The patio please." "Right this way folks." For as small as it was; the place was doing a pretty hefty amount of business; but most opted to eat inside where the sweet sounds of Italian opera rang throughout the overhead speakers. Settling into her seat, she thanked the hostess as a menu was handed to her; but she didn't need it; her mind was already made up.




Why did she bother asking him if she wasn’t going to let him answer? He felt like a kid toddling around after his mother, a nuance he was severely unfamiliar with. But the image stuck just the same. Keeping his trap shut, Dante just followed her, hands in jacket pockets as they arrived at the table. Nice little place, he really hadn’t noticed it before, but it seemed pretty busy. Must have good stuff. He declined a menu as well, but ordered water this time. Leaning back in his chair, he just laced fingers over his stomach and glanced around, professional habit making him notice nearly everything without realizing it. The familiar comforting weight of the ebon chromed pistol was soothing, snug in the shoulder harness under his jacket. But he quirked a brow at Douglass; this seemed a bit…unexpected? But he’d go with it.




Douglass : It felt like no time had passed before a busty little waitress came to inquire about their order; Douglass ordered up a plate of angel-hair pasta with pesto sauce and broccoli; and Dante ordered himself a hearty meal of Parmesan breaded chicken and lasagna; "Wine?" Douglass declined; it was her responsibility to drive tonight, so she'd behave and take her position as Designated Driver seriously; Dante on the other hand ordered a glass of fine red wine; a gesture Douglass was glad he took. In a few short minutes the waitress returned with Dante's drink order and a glass of water for Douglass; the small candle in the center of the table flitted lightly in the gentle ocean breeze as the waitress bustled away to attend to a new-coming set of patrons. Dee settled back, sipping the water and then checking her watch; quarter after five; good. "There's a nice little florist just around the corner; they should have what I'm looking for." Her eyes turned out toward the sinking sun; the fading rays turning to shades of deep yellow and orange. "It's been a long time since I watched the sun set."




He smiled at the waitress as she brought the drinks. Ah, the good stuff. Of course, nothing could compare with good ol’ Irish Whiskey, but anon. Reaching for the stemmed glass, he took a generous sip then placed it back on the table, asking, “And just out of curiosity, what are you looking for, or is that prying?” He winked to show he was merely teasing and turned blue eyes to gaze over the view; truly it was lovely. A strange melancholy crept up his spine. Such beauty, here in the human world. “Yeah, me too. The sun’s too harsh…makes the edges jagged,” he said quietly. “But the night’s soft, it blurs all the colors together. Makes it smooth…” Realizing he was rambling, he hushed and just watched.




Douglass : She brushed off his question; he'd see what she was looking for soon enough. As he chattered about the day and the night, her own thoughts turned, fingers slipped together before falling to her lap; "You know the setting of the sun has such a meaning. Each passing sunset leaves us with the promise of a new day; a promise that's never certain." Hazel eyes never moved from the sinking orb, the long pink shadows dancing over the rooftops and casting dazzling hues upon all that it could reach; a last effort to touch the world before it died for another night. "I've been thinking a lot lately; and I don't want to let those promises slip past me anymore. Each new day offers a new opportunity to help someone new; make a new friend; care about an old friend." Eyes moved to the laced fingers in her lap, "A new friend showed me that."




Seems we’re all just chock full of wise words, he thought with a small grin. Be impressive if either of us listened to ‘em. “So, you’re saying you want to live life as a human, then.” Dante nodded. “I can understand that. It’s only natural, after all, cause that’s what you are, Douglass.” Not meant harshly, just matter-of-fact. He couldn’t do such, so he didn’t quite understand, but he was trying.




Douglass : "Not even going that far…" but she couldn't finish; the waitress again graced their table with her presence, this time bearing food. Setting the plates down in front of them; each along with a salad smothered in Italian dressing and a basket of freshly baked bread-sticks for the two to share; she warned against hot plates and wished them fine dining. A petite smile passed Dee's lips; "Bon-apatite." Lifting her fork she selected a single stock of broccoli and bit it carefully, making sure not to scald the inside of her mouth.




The smells were delicious. He’d have to remember this place. Waiting till the waitress finished serving and Douglass began eating, Dante took knife and fork and attended his meal, apparently all talking suspended in homage to the excellent meal. Silence was companionable, he’d long found. One could exist without words and still carry on just fine. Sometimes he preferred it that way. But this was her show; he was just the passenger along for the ride.




Douglass : The graceful hues of twilight painted themselves across the evening sky as the two finished their meal in silence; the waitress had returned several times to make sure everything was Ok, and that they didn't need anything else. When plates were as clean as they were going to get; she returned a final time; bill in hand; "Dessert?" Douglass looked to Dante who shook his head, apparently the meal had satisfied, for now. In turn Douglass declined and took the bill; not bad for what they got. Leaving a single hundred dollar bill on the table, more than a fifteen percent tip; closer to a fifty percent in all actuality; she nodded to him, standing up they walked out shoulder to shoulder. Again arranging themselves inside the Durango, she set out for the short trip to the florists shop; pulling into the small parking lot, she killed the engine and hopped out; hopefully it would only take a minute. The inside of the flower shop was cool; well air-conditioned to keep the flowers fresh. The clerk smiled at her, nodding greetings; and Douglass didn't' waste anytime approaching. "Excuse me; but I need a single white lily with two yellow roses and baby's breath please." "Well that's an odd combination; we don't have any ready made but I can get one together for you if you have a few minutes to spare." "Of course," Douglass smiled, happy that she didn't need to go anywhere else. This time of year roses were difficult to find, and if you could then you usually couldn't find the lily to go with them; but tonight it seemed that luck was on her side. She browsed absently; waiting for the clerk to get the arrangement together; sweet old lady she was.




Dante didn’t bother getting out, merely leaned back in the seat and digested supper, as delicious as it was. Having let the window down before Douglass killed the engine, he merely leaned his temple on the door frame and let the quiet night wind caress his brow, tossing platinum strands gently across his forehead. What in the hell did she need flowers for? A mystery, surely, but Douglass was full of ‘em. He figured he’d just watch and wait; better than getting his nose smacked for being…well, nosy. So he just whistled idly through his teeth, a favorite pastime and waited.




Douglass : It took the kind ol lady about five minutes to get the arrangement ready; but Douglass didn't mind the wait. "Here you go honey, that will be ten dollars." Douglass dropped a fifty on the counter, the smallest she had on her; and took the arrangement; turning to leave the woman called after her; "Ma'am, you forgot your change." "I didn't forget it; keep it." "Ma'am I do appreciate it; but it's too much." Douglass didn't stop to listen, just left the building flowers in hand; true it was an odd arrangement, but not without purpose. Hopping back inside the automobile, she turned to Dante, "Could you hold these while I'm driving please? I don't want to squish the flowers."




He opened eyes once more as the truck door opened and sat up as Douglass bounced in the driver’s seat. “Sure,” he answered, taking the bouquet from her with just the slightest hesitation. The last time he’d held flowers was when he’d buried his wife. And that’d been merely two deep red roses, the stems entwined with silver cord. But he squealched it and kept a small grin on his lips, for her benefit. She didn’t deserve to have the burden, so he just kept it to himself. “So,” he asked, “what play we going to see? Grease?”




Douglass : Starting up the automobile, she pulled it into traffic, deciding to take the surface streets the high school; "Actually it's "Fiddler on the Roof," and afterwards, a very talented young man will be doing a violin performance; hence the flowers." It didn't take too long to get there, and they pulled into the crowded parking lot fifteen minutes before seven; perfect timing. She thanked Dante as she took the flowers from him; slipping out and once both were well on their way to the gym door; hit the automatic lock. As they approached the entrance, a few people gawked; most likely at her tattoos, but it wasn't the first time the chair of the drama department had seen Douglass there. “Well hello there," the plump middle-aged woman greeted, "We were starting to think we wouldn't see you this year." "I've just been busy, decided to change professions." Amazing how well a smile camouflaged the true nature behind that comment. "Well I hope you're happy with your new profession; and who is this handsome young man?" A large toothy smile flashed Dante's way, and Douglass had a hell of time keeping from laughing. "A new co-worker; is it too late to purchase tickets?" "Honey, it's never too late," someone called a name from off in the distance, "Oh; I'm needed. Enjoy the show." With a wave of her chubby hand she was gone, and Douglass just chuckled lightly; for four years now it'd been the same thing; a polite hello; mindless chit-chat and then a quick dash. Douglass looped a hand around Dante's arm, nudging him to lower his head a bit so she could speak to him; "That's Mrs. Guessing; the chair of the drama department. Nice lady but a bit scatter-brained." Straightening back up, she let go of his arm; as they made their way to the front door, Douglass removed another fifty from her pocket; the young man selling tickets smiled at her and quoted the prices; again Douglass refused change; it was to be a night of giving. Once inside, she nudged Dante towards two seats in the far back of the auditorium, professional habit to be near an exit. Five minutes passed before the play started; how cute the kids were; trying so hard to act well. The first few scenes flit by; then in the third act a dark haired boy who couldn't have been any taller than Douglass herself stepped on stage; a sly little smile slipped onto her lips; "That's Kenny," she whispered low to Dante.




Dante followed along like an obedient puppy, God how the nuance galled him. But Douglass had asked, so he’d play the part. Quirking a brow at the elder lady at the door, he just returned her toothy smile with one of his own, giving her a sly wink in return. He chuckled as she and Douglass chatted, then watched idly as she dashed off into the auditorium. “Young man, hell,” he muttered at Douglass as she informed him of the lady’s name and profession. “I’ve got a few years on that spring chicken.” But he let himself be ushered to the chairs, noting the closeness to an exit. Once more that professional habit. Might have him missing out on the center view, but he’d rather stay alive than get the best seats. He hadn’t seen “Fiddler on the Roof” performed, had actually loathed the book, but had to admit the kids did well. For kids, that was. Amusing, to say the least. But he just slounged in his seat, a boot propped on a knee and fingers laced over his stomach. Grunting softly to Douglass’s elbow in his ribs as the dark haired youth appeared, he nodded to her identification, although the name meant absolutely nothing to him, he figured she’d explain later. She better.




Douglass : As they play came to an end, the performers came out to take their bows; as she had done at the opera; Douglass whistled loudly, applauding also to indicate her appreciation for the youth's efforts. As promised, Mrs. Guessing took the stage and announced that a Mr. Kenneth Ortega would be performing a short series of violin pieces for the audiences listening pleasure. About half the occupants took the opportunity to leave, and that annoyed Douglass more so than she'd let any of them see; by damn they couldn't wait another fifteen to twenty minutes to offer their support to an aspiring musician; damn them all! However, even that wouldn't hinder him; he simply took the stage, bowed once to his remaining audience, and began to pull the bow across the strings; good God that boy's fingers were magic, the sweet melodies filled the room, and each person who remained listened in awe at his stellar performance. When he'd finished and the lights lifted; Douglass's eyes were glossy, and a quaint smile quirked at the corners of her lips. "He just keeps getting better." Everyone stood for him; applause and whistles ringing out throughout the auditorium. As one of the students tried to hustle past, Douglass caught her attention; "Excuse me Miss, could you give these to Mr. Ortega for me please?" "Sure lady, who should I tell him sent them?" "He'll know. Thanks." She needed to go; get out of there before Mrs. Ortega spotted her; that was a meeting she couldn't endure right now. Pulling lightly on Dante's sleeve only once, with her eyes she told him that she'd wait for him outside.




Dante had to grin at Douglass’s enthusiasm. But he clapped and applauded along with everyone else; he’d enjoyed it, after all. But he resumed his seat with Douglass as most of the place emptied and the young musician came on to play. The haunting strains of the viola filled the auditorium, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. But it was very good; the boy had talent, that was sure. He rose again with the others, wincing as Douglass’s sharp shrill whistle pierced his ears. He waited as she passed on the flowers to a passing student and nodded as she pulled on his sleeve. “All right, come on.” Following her outside, he took a deep breath of night air and just went to stand beside the truck. “All right, can I be the simpleton and ask what all that was about?”




Douglass : She couldn't help but smile at him, "Yeah;" poor guy; she'd been in such a hurry that she'd nearly forgotten to tell him why they were there; or more importantly, why she was. For three years now she'd attended the performances in silence, usually alone save for one time; one time when Sam had accompanied her: she didn't even tell him why they were there; to do so would have been a catastrophe. Slipping into the automobile, she unlocked his door; she damn sure wasn't going to start in on all that while in the parking lot; lord knew she didn't need a run in with Mrs. Ortega; how do you tell a woman that her son is dead?
Douglass : True, the poor old crippled lady hadn't seen or heard about her son for years; but she knew he was still alive; and that little glimmer of hope had to help her sleep at night. Douglass could feel a veil of somber covering her; hiding her away as the busy parking lot slowly emptied; damn good thing they left when they did, or else they'd be stuck at the back of this mess. Once out on the open roads, she heaved a heavy sigh; "I guess I should have told you sooner." Her grip on the wheel tightened a little bit; she was about to reveal information that had been sworn to silence over ten years ago; even before her father had passed on. Since she was five he'd been taking her into top-secret areas; special privileges he called them. Then she was too young to understand; but as she got older the reality of it all sunk in; and it sunk in deep. A life of secrets; a life apart from the rest of the world; only one she'd ever known; now about to be cracked open by necessity; and for some reason that idea made it a little easier. "Kenneth Luis Ortega; son of one Wendy Graciella Garcia-Ortega; brother of one George Luis Garcia; known for years as Luis, ATT special ops." She licked her lips and swallowed, "Part of being a member of ATT meant you had no past; no family; no relations. Everything that made you a person was taken away, anything that identified you; we've all assumed sue names; to protect those who might have had connections to us in our forgotten pasts." Hazel eyes stared out into the darkness before them; scanning for any obstacles that might leap into the cones of the headlights. "I've been attending Kenny's shows for three years now; in light of recent events I'd almost forgotten. He's only ever seen me once; three years ago when I handed him a bouquet of flowers; lilies were his mom's favorite; and yellow roses symbolize friendship. I doubt he ever knew that; but his mom did; and I know that she understands each year." Shoulders slumped back in the seat; right hand leaving the wheel and moving to rest upon her right thigh, fingers absently trailed to the side of the leg, rubbing the area over the scar lightly; "For as long as I can remember; Kenny's wanted to attend the Julliard School of Music and Show; but his family isn't needy enough to get a full ride; and on the other hand his father doesn't make enough to pay for the school. I finally talked Conroy into setting up a fund for him; putting aside some of the ATT funds to send him; I just wish I could see his face when he gets his acceptance letter." A smile etched itself onto her features; "Maybe I would have gone to Julliard if things would have been different; guess I'll never know." She turned to look at him; unsure if she should continue or not; to tell him what she had to say next would mean that she'd trust him wholly, without bounds; her former self screamed not to; to shut her mouth and abide by the rules set forth to protect those she cared about most; but they were all gone now; she was the only one left to protect. As eyes moved back to the road, the words came difficultly, "I wasn't born Douglass Gean McQue; McQue is my mothers maiden name." She gave it a moment for the words to sink in; not so much for him but for herself. "I was born Jeanie Douglass Preston; of the Park Avenue Prestons.' If you look it up you'll find a complete set of records; birth certificate, school records, dental records, and a death certificate; Jeanie died seven days after her father." Her words were solemn, laced with sorrow and discontent; "I was the only ATT member to know that I had another name; to know that I had another life. Everyone else endured weeks of memory deduction, Luis never knew that he had a younger brother; he didn't even know that his mother was still alive; but I was a special case, I didn't have to follow all the rules; guess that happens when you're old man is the founder." It was amazing how easily the words were coming now; how long had she wanted to share her story, to tell someone that she wasn't just a cold bitch without purpose, to reveal that sometime in her distant past she had been a person. "As you've likely guessed, my dad came from money; he'd never gone without a day in his life; and there was something about it that drove him. He enlisted in the army when he was nineteen; along with his best friend Conan Dwayne Tompson; Conroy. They served together for years; both excelling in the art of chemical warfare. When their contract was up; my dad had seen the horrors of what a person could do, and what people would keep doing to each other; so with his money he funded the establishment of the ATT, an anti-terrorism organization set to keep chemical and biological warfare at ease between any and all countries; within a few years he'd made quite the name for himself on the underground. Somewhere along the lines, he met my mom; a young southern bell from Kentucky; a pretty young girl with a dolls face; a face she passed on to her offspring. To this day I still don't know how they did it; they loved to hate each other." She half laughed at the memory, "But one thing, my dad cared about everyone; and that's what killed him. He died going back for a fallen man." Tears began to cloud her vision, but she quickly forced them away; not while I'm driving. "First and only time I ever ran away from anything; the day of my dads funeral. I couldn't stand it, the fact that he was gone; so I ran. A few days later Conroy found me and took me to ATT headquarters in New York; it was then that Jeanie Douglass Preston's death certificate was made out; and Douglass Gean McQue was born; a name without a past." Fingernails absently scratched at the side of her leg; a fruitless attempt at trying to dig up the past; for years now the scar had been a symbol to her; a symbol of what happened when you cared too much; when you cared about something; anything; you were bound to get hurt, bound to die; but all these years she'd been dying anyways, what was the point any longer? Her scar only hurt when something got to close; when something happened to get under her skin; other then that it really didn't feel at all; a lot like her. "I was never meant to be Jeanie Preston; my dad must have known it; he was the first person to ever call me Dee." And there it was; the darkest recesses of her mind had seen the light of day; the walls that she'd built for years came crumbling down in a few minutes time; she felt like she was standing in the middle of a crowded room; naked and screaming.




Dante just sat there quietly, watching the headlights on the road as she talked. If there was one thing he could do, it was sit in silence. He quite liked meditation. Could do it for hours when the mood struck. But he knew she needed someone to listen, so listen he did. And learned. A lot. More than he bargained for. He’d figured there was a story of sorts behind the whole thing, and it finally manifested with this little outing. Douglass had never talked about her father, but Dante figured there was a reason, and apparently there was; she’d loved her father, idolized him. He could relate to that, sure enough. High standards, the both of them. But he let the silence reign for a moment after she finished speaking; he didn’t miss the fine tremoring of her muscles as she drove. But what could he do? He had his own scars, she could attest to that. And it was the nature of humanity, to bury what caused pain. Had he not done that? Had she not? A soft sigh escaped his lips. Well, he’d asked, in any case. But he replied softly, “So, you took the anger and pain that losing your father caused and used it to fuel your determination. Makes sense. I’d have probably done the same thing, were it me. At least you made it useful. Most humans wouldn’t have.” He shrugged a shoulder slightly, keeping eyes on the road. “Names don’t really matter. No one knows mine, and I like it that way.” His voice dropped a notch, to barely above a whisper. “And I know how it hurts to lose, believe me.” Eyes lifted back to the darkness. “But you go on. You just have to. Work still needs to be done, jobs still need to be finished.”




Douglass : She smiled softly, the backlash of the headlights illuminating her eyes; silence had always been a good friend to her; but tonight it would have to take a backseat. "He's the only one I've ever really loved; and I miss him every damn day. You can relate to that; I've seen you mourn; up until that day I never realized, but now I see; we're here, mourning together, and that's why we are both alone." Her right hand lifted from the place upon her leg to push back a few stands of hair that had come undone; "The other night you asked me where I'd gone; I couldn't tell you then, you were just hurting too much." She braced for the moment, fingers slipping back to her leg; "I went to talk to them; my dad and Jayden."




His gut went cold. First reaction was to throttle her where she sat. But that would be a bit unwise, especially in a moving vehicle. So Dante just kept his growl in his throat and leashed his temper, forcing out a harsh, nearly strangled, “Oh, and why?” at the revelation. A natural instinct where Jayden was concerned. That place atop the hill was his Mecca; where he went to find peace and leave a little more of his shattered heart every time he cried for her. He knew he was slowly killing himself, but he couldn’t let it go. Fists were still clenched tightly around that memory, even despite her words to him. But she’d always known he was stubborn, so the redhead shouldn’t be the least bit surprised. Images of his delusional dream flitted back and he sighed heavily, rebellious forelock falling into his eyes as he stared at the floorboard.




Douglass : If she could have slipped away into the shadows she would have; just melt into the dark oblivion and cease to exist; but for her, it wasn't an option. "I asked them for help, to help me find purpose in what I was doing; and to help you find purpose in what you were doing."




“I know what my purpose is, Douglass,” he told her shortly. “I just don’t like it. I didn’t ask for this job. I didn’t run to the front of the line waving my hand like a three year old for candy. Thanks to my mother’s blood, I’m half human. Which galls my ass more than you can possibly know. Cause I’m stuck with the damnable human emotions that seem to be getting me deeper and deeper into shit the longer I live.” That said, he fell silent, biting his tongue against any other rough comment. It wouldn’t do to start a fight. How he wished he could go back to the one day at a time life, they blurring into each other until time became one slow unbroken line.




Douglass : "No Dante," her words were stern; "you've lost sight of your purpose a long time ago; long before I ever laid eyes on you." The Durango began to bound and lunge a bit on the dirt road; but she kept it steady with one hand, "Take a long good look in the mirror and tell yourself just what you see; call it a favor." She was finished; there was no point in continuing, surely he was turning his ears to deaf even as she spoke.




Oh, fuck this. Snarling under his breath, the devil hunter yanked open the door and, with not so much as the first whit of warning, leapt from the Durango, shifting forms at the apex of his arc. Wings ripped from his back as he took flight, shooting away from the vehicle with enough force to slam the door closed after he exited the truck. Teeth ground as he shot skyward, burning crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as he considered impalement for something, the first thing that crossed his ire tonight. The moon waxed half-full, the stars glittered overhead, a bright canopy for the winged demon prince. He changed course and headed for the mountains beyond his lair, massive wings pumping furiously to gain altitude. The sharp crisp desert wind stung a bit, but he relished the minute pain. Monkey fucks, he thought in annoyance. What the hell did she know? That human female had no damned idea what life was like for him. To have to fight with yourself every single time something, a scent, a sight, a noise, triggered the demon within, urging the beast to break and feed, rending life. And to have capitulated completely to someone, only to have it ripped away by damned mortality. God, it was so unfair. But his thoughts grew blacker the further he went, seething irritation leaking over his skin, making scales tremble over his flesh.




Douglass : She didn't even flinch as he exited; his little outbursts weren't anything new. The vehicle entered the lift, Douglass spouting a greeting to Lucille. "Where is Dante, did he not leave with you?" "Yeah he did; but he'll be back later. I pissed him off again." "You are good at that Douglass." "I know." She leaned against the side of the lift as it descended into the belly of the compound; arms crossed under her chest as her thoughts turned deep. For so long she'd kept her secrets; kept them buried deep within the dark recesses of her mind. When the others had inquired about long lost pasts, spouting off the 'what ifs' she only smiled and played along, duty wouldn't let her reveal anything. "Lucille, do you think it would be better if I left for good?" “Absolutely not; why would you ask that, Douglass?" "All I seem to confer is pain," "That's nonsense; you’re good for him." "Whatever you say." "Douglass, what happened tonight?" "Nothing, don't worry about it Lucy." Old habits die hard; slipping back into silence, she moved to her room; stripping of the evenings attire and pulling on a pair of shorts; catching a glimpse of her scar in the mirror, she stopped; naked to the waist she lifted her right arm, peering back into the mirror the fingers of her left hand traced the outline of that permanent mark; she couldn't feel her own touch.




Dante flew aimlessly for about an hour, his blood blazing through veins. But his temper gradually abated…a bit. Finally turning and angling towards home, he descended towards his holographic cliff, flying directly through the image and shifting before his boots hit the metal. Growling identity to Lucille, who wisely did as programmed without the snarky sarcasm, she brought her master to the appropriate floor and he stormed across the garage, taking a deep breath before descending into the living area. First stop was the study, to check messages, he’d rather do it himself for once and finding none, thankfully, headed to his bedroom to change and hit the bed. Doing shit like that always made him tired, but not overly so. Rage helped, fueled the adrenaline streaming around in his system. He passed Douglass’s open door, but didn’t even spare her a glance as he passed. He’d rather not rip skin with words right now.




Douglass : She could hear him long before he was downstairs; and her mind swam with thoughts and ideas. As his heavy bootfalls passed her room; she darted to the door, catching herself on the doorframe she peered down the hall after him; she wasn't mad, but this needed to be settled. "Dante," his name was a stern word, meant to grab his attention. "We can't keep doing this. Tell me why I pissed you off this time." She took the side step out of her room, standing in the hallway with arms at her sides, eyes fixated on his back.




He thought about just not even turning around, but her damned teacherish tone made his teeth grate. Stopping three inches away from the darkness of his bedroom and blessed freedom, Dante turned only his head, hard icy eyes under platinum hair sharp as he shot her a look over a shoulder. “Why not, Douglass?” he retorted. “Makes life interesting, don’t it?” But lips rippled in a snarl as he fought not to just unleash his frustration, and he took a deep calming breath. It worked, to a degree. But he turned fully, fixing those icy cerulean orbs directly onto hers, not wavering the first inch. “You want to know what I see in the mirror, Douglass? A monster. A demon clothed with human flesh. A beast, Douglass. Something not even able to attain heaven, thanks to the damnable blood in my veins. And do you think I’m happy with it? You might not care, but what about the rest of the world? Don’t you think the precious humans we protect wouldn’t eviscerate my ass if they knew just what I am! My purpose is to keep the portals to this world shut, Douglass. To eventually banish forever the overlord of Hell. And somewhere in the back of my mind, the human blood I carry fears that I just might not be good enough! Think about that! It fucking keeps me awake at night!” His tirade took a new note, this one whispering and dark. “There are demons in dreams, Douglass, I fight ‘em nightly.”




Douglass : She didn't stray from his gaze; her own hazel eyes locked on his, unmoving and unblinking. "And what do you think they'd do to me if they knew half the shit I've done? I've seen children take up arms, stare their fathers' right in the face and pull the trigger. Demons aren't born of hell Dante; they are born in the hearts of men. You of all people should know that."




He growled, low and deep in his throat. “Don’t preach, Douglass. Not to me. I’ve seen more heartache and suffering than you’ll ever fathom, even if you life half as long as I will. And demons are the reflections of men’s soul. That’s how they’re born. All the manifestations of evil in humans give birth to the denizens of hell. Which is why the fuckers breed like rabbits. I know how corrupt humans are, trust me.”




Douglass : "The only one that hates you Dante; is you. You tell me on a daily basis to embrace my humanity; to accept what I am. I dared to have a little faith in you; why is it so hard for you to have a little faith in me?" Finally something inside her snapped; it was a night to come clean, a night to wash away everything that had been weighing on her mind; "God Damn it Dante, if you're such a fucking monster then tell me why Kimmy cares about you so damn much?! Tell me why Harris guards over you like a fucking mother hen!? Tell me why I can't stop caring about you!?" Her eyes never moved from his, not even as her tone went to new heights.




His knuckles would surely forgive him, Lucille might not, but she’d get over it. The impact his fist made in the wall was delicious, pain radiating up his forearm to his brain, igniting fire behind his eyes. “Because, Douglass!” he hollered back, planting his boots in the carpet. “Kimmy just wants me to fuck her into oblivion! That’s all women want from this body they seem to lust after so much! Harris needs me to keep his ass out of the fire, to keep the crime rate down to acceptable levels! Because if I didn’t, the death rate would plug out the roof, they’d bring in the feds, and demon activity would be exposed. Remember what happened the last time that went down!” But his temper was rising again. “And I don’t fucking know, damnit!!! Why do you in the first fucking place?!”




Douglass : "I wish I fucking knew," her voice had dropped considerably. "Maybe I thought I could see him in you; see that compassion. You have friends, Dante; you just refuse to see them."




He shook his head. “I’m not your father, Douglass. No one can be.” Gritting his teeth, he just turned away once more. “It doesn’t matter, now does it, Douglass. I might have a damned army behind me, but it won’t matter one whit in the end.”




Douglass : "I never wanted you to be my father, Dante, I never want anyone to be my father; I just want to know that people like him can still exist." As he turned his back to her, she let out a long sigh; "You don't have an army behind you; you have me behind you." She closed her eyes as she turned; "Whether you like it or not; I'll always be behind you."




Exasperation was about to reach a new level. Whirling around again, Dante threw his arms in the air and huffed, “Then what on this screwed-up earth do you want, Douglass?! Besides knowing that compassion still exists, cause it’s damned rare!” He glowered. “I can’t help being a sonofabitch, chalk it up to self-raising on the damned streets, eating outta garbage cans before I learned to kill. You knew I was a mean putz when you got in here. Which amazes me why you’re still here!”




Douglass : She didn't turn around to look at him; only straightened up a bit. "Do I strike you as the kind of person who runs away from things just because they are difficult?" She turned to look at him over her shoulder, "Is that what you want Dante, me gone?"




“No, you know you don’t. Did I say that, Douglass?” He snorted. “I learned eleven years ago not to ‘want’ anything from humanity. Only makes you miserable when it’s snatched away.”




Douglass : "Then what makes you think that I want anything?" She thought for a moment; "If I could have anything, any one thing; a few months ago I would have asked for my dad back; but now," her voice dropped off for a moment, "Now I'd ask to see you happy." Finally she turned part way around, hazel stones meeting his cerulean gaze, "Funny how things change."




One sharp brow lowered as his gaze sharpened. Caged, wary. Withdrawing. He had reason. But the word was clipped and terse, forced out of his throat. “Why?”




Douglass : "Because you've given me everything already."




Oh this was madness. There was a reason he avoided humanity, he was quickly realizing that thanks to the throbbing behind his temples. Muttering choice curses laced with animal parts, he just shook his head and snarled back, “Welcome,” before turning and disappearing into his bedroom, the automated door slithering closed behind him. Flinging his jacket across the room, teeth ground behind tight lips as he just stood there for a moment, concentrating on not exploding. But eventually his spleen quieted and he just went to bed.



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