For the Hopeless

Hayden glanced away from the window with a sigh. There wasn't much to look at inside the room, but outside, there was only snow. The flakes had picked back up, becoming heavier and falling much faster than they had been for the past hour. Now, all one could see outside was a wall of white, fluffy and blindingly reflecting the light that spilled from the warm side of the glass.

Madeleine watched the girl from nearby, frowning to herself as she watched her put her make-up-reddened lips to the butt of another cancer stick. She'd just turned eighteen, and already she was hooked to the sickening things.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that in my room," the younger of the girls commented, her voice soft. Yet it was clear that she meant what she said, and that she greatly disapproved of what Hayden was doing.

"I have no choice," Hayden replied with a shrug. She smiled to show white teeth that weren't yet stained by cigarettes, proving that she really didn't care what a nine-year-old thought. "Bailey checks my room now. She'll notice the smell."

"If she's checking your room because of it, she clearly doesn't want you to do it," Madeleine pointed out, watching as Hayden rose from the chair by the windowsill. "You should stop."

"She just doesn't want me to do it because she wants me to be like her." Hayden spun in front of Madeleine's full-length mirror, admiring her own slender figure. Her hair, just beyond shoulder length, whipped around her, a dark wave of luxurious brown. She worked hard on both her flat, toned stomach and her thick, soft hair. It was hard to figure out why she was throwing that all away by smoking. "She wants me to fight like her and help her to do all of her goody-goody bullshit."

Madeleine's frown deepened in confusion. "Don't you want to be like her? She's strong, and she helps a lot of people..."

"Maybe I don't want that," Hayden snapped, turning to face the girl Bailey forced her to treat as a younger sister. Her eyes were narrowed in such hatred that barely any of her sapphire-blue irises showed between thick black lashes. "Maybe I don't want to protect people. Maybe I don't care about being her kind of strong." She turned away in a quick, jerky motion, scowling at herself in the mirror. "Maybe I'm fine as I am."

"So you'd be happier if you got cancer and died?" Both girls spun to face the source of this new voice, stunned to find Bailey standing in the doorway. She was giving Hayden a death glare, a look dark enough to freeze even the self-proclaimed badass where she was. "Happier if you couldn't run anymore because your lungs have become so warped?" She took a step toward Hayden, predatory and threatening, and the wide-eyed girl fell back a step. "Happier if you had me saving your ass because you couldn't do it your damn self?" A second step forward, and Hayden had her back to the window she'd just been sitting beside, right next to her chair.

"Smoking won't cause all of that," she said in her best bitch tone, though both Madeleine and Bailey were easily able to tell that there was a hint of fear to it. "You'll never have to save me. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She drew herself up, stepping away from the window to squarely face Bailey. But the woman suddenly smiled, the expression nasty and knowing.

"Leave, then. Go find another place to live." She crossed her arms over her chest, still smiling that horrible smile. "Get yourself back and forth to school. Get your own money to buy your own clothes, your own food, your own cigarettes. And good luck doing that without someone learning about what you are. I know you, and you won't be able to simply go without practicing your witchery."

The look on Hayden's face, a mixture of hatefulness and shocked stupidity, told Bailey that she was right. She had the silly little teenager right where she wanted her, and the poor girl simply didn't have the wit to respond.

"You know I'm right, don't you?" she asked, that smile of hers shifting into a smirk, taunting the girl. "You're too stupid to agree with my other points, but at least you're smart enough to realize that you couldn't make it alone. Right?"

"I...You...You're..." Hayden's face was beginning to turn beet red, either from rage or embarrassment, perhaps both. She stammered another string of pronouns, then let out an annoyed, less-than-ladylike huff and pushed past Bailey. The door slammed behind her, leaving Bailey to grin outright, left alone with Madeleine.

"She got ashes on the carpet," the young girl decided to point out, gesturing to a pile of gray ashes that looked as though they amounted to nearly half of a forgotten cigarette. The rest of it was still with Hayden, more than likely still forgotten.

"Would you like me to clean them up?" Bailey asked, her dark brown eyes on Madeleine. She frowned suddenly, realizing that her smile – or maybe that evil aura that seemed to be growing around her with each change in said smile – was frightening her. Her aqua-blue eyes, adorably large in her small, innocent face, were widened in a vague sense of fear, as though she was trying to hide it, but failing horribly. Even Bailey, monster as she was, couldn't bear to scare such a sweet girl – the cute, blonde hair tied in cute, braided pig tails didn't help, either.

"N-no," the child stuttered before Bailey could address the issue. "I'm sure I can get Hayden to clean it up later. She is a witch, after all." She averted her gaze now, soon turning fully away from Bailey to pretend to fix the fluffy fuchsia pillows strewn about her bed.

"All right," Bailey said softly. She fell silent, watching the child for a few moments before finally leaving the room. She closed the door quietly behind herself, feeling ashamed. She hadn't meant to scare Madeleine, hadn't even noticed what she was doing in time to control it, but she still felt bad. It should never have happened to begin with. Her self-control was going to hell...

With a sigh, she started down the stairs. She could hear Dameon's voice below, hushed, followed by a soft murmur from Aven. Though she couldn't hear their words clearly, she knew that they were talking about her. Why else would they whisper, alone in the living room?

"I'll just ask Tawny what you said later," she told the pair once she'd reached the bottom landing of the stairway. Aven jumped, eyes automatically widening as though she expected to be punished, and Dameon turned quickly, startled, but not scared like the newcomer.

"You're looking...better," the werewolf remarked, looking Bailey over. She looked a little bit more healthy now, her long hair hanging dark and damp about her shoulders, all signs of dirt and gore gone from her skin. Her clothing, a dark red, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, still hung loosely about her bony frame, but they looked as if they were meant to be baggy, unlike many of her other, more revealing outfits.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I'm sure." She left the stairs and moved to stand before the two, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now, would you like to tell me what you were saying about me, or should I go get the summary from Tawny?" Aven and Dameon looked at each other. The male was the only one brave enough to look up at Bailey a moment later.

"She wants to go with you," the Were said simply, suddenly very serious. "Tonight."

Bailey's brow furrowed in an expression of puzzlement. "Tonight? Where?"

"I know of a place," the female said softly, finally raising her eyes to Bailey's face. "It caters to a human/Traitor clientele."

"Then how did you find out about it?" Bailey asked, suspicious. If she was just an elf, one of the many innocents being harmed in this war with the human race, how could she possibly have found such a place on her own, full of people who would gladly hurt her?

"A friend of mine took me there once," she said softly, dropping her gaze once more. This time, however, it wasn't in fear; it was sadness. "Well, he...he was more than a friend." She laughed bitterly to herself. "Or, rather, he was trying to be...Pretending to try..." She shook her head and looked up, into Bailey's patiently stoic face. "He was a Were, like Dameon, but not quite so tough. He was a werecat. The best he could do for the humans was lure innocent nonhumans." Here, her face hardened in a way that seemed very uncharacteristic to her audience, even though they'd known her for mere hours. "He nearly got me captured, trapped and turned into an experiment, just like all the others."

"But you got away," Bailey said, a contemplative look crossing her face. "And...went home?" Now, she was simply confused. How could the elf have been that stupid?

Aven laughed, bitterness and true humor mixing in the soft sound. "Yeah, I know. Even I can't fathom why I would go there. He knew where I lived and, obviously, had no trouble leading a bunch of humans to my door."

"So someone really did give you away," Bailey murmured, recalling her original diagnosis of the situation, when Aven had tried to explain upon her arrival. "Why didn't you tell us before?"

Aven smiled, a tinge of guilt and embarrassment coloring the expression. "I knew you would think I was an idiot, and I didn't want you to throw me out since I'm not exactly...well...Guardian material."

"You panicked," Bailey said with a shrug, clearly not blaming the girl for her foolish actions. "I'm sure you wouldn't have wanted to put someone else in danger, even if you had thought of somewhere else to go."

"Yeah," Dameon agreed, offering Aven a comforting smile. "Besides, you're not the only person in this house who's had a stupid moment like that one."

"We all have, actually," Bailey admitted, much to Aven's surprise. She smiled, but there was no humor to it, no kindness. There was only shame. "And, in my case, it was a much, much more foolish slip-up. I didn't just put myself in danger. I..." She trailed off, forcing her face to return to its blank, stoic state. She'd given enough away already. "Well," she continued in a much less emotional tone, "where is this place? Do you remember?"

"Of course," Aven replied, though she was still slightly taken aback by Bailey's partial confession. She'd seemed like she could do no wrong... "I wouldn't have brought it up if the memory was too fuzzy. It's on the outskirts of town. Indiana Avenue."

Bailey nodded, glancing toward the stairs with a sigh. "I suppose I should go put some real clothes on, then. That street is nothing but clubs and bars."

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, stopping Bailey on her way to those dreaded stairs.

She turned to him, confusion showing on her pale face once more. "To get dressed?"

"No," he said, barely suppressing a laugh. "To this...human place."

"Oh." She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No. We need someone older to stay here, just in case. I don't trust Hayden here alone. Besides, I'm pretty sure I can handle anything this establishment has to throw at me. I've been feeling a bit...crazy lately." She flashed the man a psychotic smile to prove her point, then continued on her way to the second floor.

Aven turned to Dameon, frowning. "Are you sure this isn't a bad idea? I know she's strong, but...this place is always full of Traitors and humans. And they tend to be armed, as most humans are these days."

Dameon sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I'm not worried about her." Aven was already preparing to protest, but he interrupted her. "I'm not worried about you, either. If she fails to take care of you, I'm sure you'll be able to handle yourself," he added, simply to stop her indignant scowling. "I just don't want the humans to find out who we are. The way Bailey is...She may lead them back here without even thinking about it, running on the high of the kill."

"I won't let her." Aven was frowning now, wondering how exactly she, of all people, was going to prevent Bailey from doing whatever she pleased. Even Dameon couldn't seem to control her, and he was both stronger and closer to Bailey than she.

Dameon could tell that she was uncomfortable. He smiled. "Good luck. It's not as easy as you think to cover Bailey's tracks." And with that, he stood, heading up the stairs in Bailey's wake.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked softly, appearing in her open doorway. She had her back to him, bare skin glowing brightly in the candle-dim light of a single lamp in the corner.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she questioned in return, her voice just as quiet as his had been. She knew why he was asking, and she knew that they didn't need to be overheard. She slipped a pair of jeans on over the pair of simple black underwear she'd been wearing, the denim baggy about her legs like all the others.

"You know why," he replied, a frown in his tone to match his visage. "You trust her about as much as I do, I'm sure."

She turned to him, an eyebrow cocked accusingly and one of her many T-shirts in hand. "Really? You seem to be getting pretty close to her." She slipped the shirt on, eyebrow still arched once she had it over her head.

He pursed his lips, clearly offended. "I've been getting to know her. That doesn't mean I trust her." His voice had risen in volume, proving his rise in temper. Perhaps she was more right than she realized.

"Aw," she started, smirking in a highly condescending manner. "Does someone have a crush on the poor little elf girl?" He started toward her, all narrowed eyes and tight lips. She took a step back with a light laugh, mocking him further. "Do you want to protect her from the big bad humans?" He was on her now, reaching for her. She took another step backward, and her back met the five-foot dresser. His hands found the weathered wooden edges to either side of her, his body only inches from hers.

"Maybe I do," he growled, baring fangs he only wished he had. "But that doesn't mean I trust her. At all." His hands tightened on the dresser as he forced his face into a calm mask. "I'm just worried about you, Bay," he admitted in his original soft tone. "She seems sweet, yes. She seems innocent and caring. She seems like she really wants to help. But...that's it. She just seems. Traitors can be good at acting. So can lures. We can't be sure."

"And you think I need to be afraid of her?" Again, her eyebrow arched, but this time, it was in a "bitch, please" manner. "She's an elf. My kind used to eat her kind."

Dameon sighed, bowing his head as his hands relaxed against the dresser. "It's not her. It's what she could be leading you to that I have a problem with."

"Whether she's a Traitor or not, I'm basically walking into a trap," Bailey told him quietly, as if to reassure him. "Maybe they're expecting me, maybe they're not. Either way, I plan to walk out of there alive. With a lot of dead things left behind me."

He let out another slow, soft sigh, shifting the strands of dark hair lying across her chest. "I know that's what you plan to do, but who knows what will actually happen? You could get captured, killed, anything. Especially if you go alone."

"I won't be alone," Bailey pointed out with a smug smile. "I'll be with your precious Aven. She'll protect me, I'm sure." He turned his face to hers once more, a scowl firmly in place.

"Why aren't you taking this seriously?" he asked, growling angrily once more. His grip tightened on the dresser, his arms tensing and pressing against hers. "You could be killed, could get all of us killed, and all you're doing is mocking me for wanting to believe that Aven's on our side?!" Anyone but Bailey would have drawn back, attempted to escape his ire, but she merely stood there. It even seemed as if her smirk grew.

"That's the difference between us, Dameon," she whispered, the softness of her voice a stark contrast to his own loud, angry shouts. "You want to believe. I..." She turned away from him, her eyes going to a curtain-covered window and her expression becoming thoughtful as she searched for the words. "I'm not sure there's anything left to believe these days..." Dameon was silent, unable to find a way to respond to such a hopeless admission, and Bailey didn't feel the need to elaborate. But after a moment, she turned to Dameon, smiling. And it wasn't a mocking smile. Nor was it smug or mean. It was almost...comforting. "I should be going now, Dameon. Aven's waiting." He stared at her for several seconds, searching her face for any signs of her true feelings; but in the end, he could only drop his arms to his sides.

"Yeah, she is," he murmured, taking a step back. Then, louder, he asked, "You should take my coat. You know, the leather one you've always liked. People are going to start getting suspicious if you continue to go outside in just a T-shirt."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, wondering at his motives. "But you love that jacket..." He was trying to trick her somehow, she just knew it.

"And you're the queen of destruction, I know." He smiled. "But I think you should take it. Even if it doesn't make it back in one shiny, pretty piece, at least you'll get some use out of it."

Her smile mirrored his now, wholly amused. "All right. I'll try to keep it safe, but you can't yell at me if I fail."

"Fair enough." They looked at each other for a few more seconds, both wearing out of place smiles after the intense conversation of moments ago. Then, finally, Bailey headed out the door, leaving Dameon alone in her room. His smile fell instantly as he turned to watch her go.

He wanted to believe, sure, but...what if there really was nothing to believe?