Take This to Your Grave and I'll Take It to Mine

"That's a good thing Peter. You'd only have to worry if he went into convulsions. Come take a closer look." I walked closer with Peter in toe.

His skin was regaining color and his mouth hung slightly open and you could see the fangs that he started to develop shrink back to normal teeth.

"Damn we got this to him right on time." My mouth now hung agape.

"Why do you think that?" He pushed a little loose hair out of his eyes.

"If his teeth were fully developed he'd have been screwed. You should be glad he passed out." I said truthfully as I rolled up my sleeves.

"Why?" He asked curiously.

"It's the courtesy that we don't get turning into vampires. The pain would probably kill him. This way he doesn't feel it." I started to walk around and pick this place up.

Did I mention how much I hate the Dandies?

"How long before he wakes up?" Peter asked hardly moving his eyes from Patrick.

"Not long after he's all-human again." I didn't look at him, only continued my cleaning.

"Do you want me to help you pick the place up?" He asked finally ripping his eyes away from Patrick.

"I don't care. You won’t know where anything goes though."

"I'll figure it out." He said with a smirk.

Why is he smirking?

I started picking up my stuff that was knocked all over the place by those stupid Dandies.

Cleo walked in and looked around wondering what the hell people were doing here.

I put my finger to my mouth and gave her the shut up face.

Then Peter started to talk.

"This is a sexy bed." He commented with a 'sexy' voice.

Stupid Dandies ripped down my curtains!

"Does it feel as good as it looks?" He was going to jump on it.

"Peter No!" I didn't speak fast enough.

"OW! What the hell?" He pulled away the sheets that covered my mahogany wood coffin that now had a latch drilled in there so they could lock me in. They are so lucky that it was the lock that snapped and not the wood. "So you really sleep in a coffin?" He sounded uncomfortable with the thought.

"Yeah, how else would I live here with no boards on the windows? What do you sleep in?"

"A double door locker." He replied sheepishly.

"And you insult what I sleep in." I said and rolled my eyes.

"Hey I'm still in denial of the fact that there's no cure. So I don't want to find myself sleeping in a coffin feeling more dead then I already do." God he’s depressing.

"Ok who are these people?" Cleo can't keep her mouth shut for five minutes to save her life! I wonder if she talks to herself when I'm not here? Or even better, did she shut up when those damned Dandies were here or was she all like, 'You know she's not going to be happy about that.' "Hey Earth to Erin! Who are the dudes? Especially the one on my couch?"

Peter looked around franticly looking for the owner of the voice. Then his eyes landed on Cleo.

He looked at her then at me. "Did that cat just talk?" He was frightened beond all comprehension.

"Hey! 'That cat' has a name!" Cleo was rude when met with new people who called her 'That cat' or anything like that. I think that's why me and her are stuck together, we're both rude to people.

"That's Cleo." I said in the most calming voice I could muster.

God that is cat an embarrassment.

"Cleo talks?" Peter asked slowly and I shook my head yes in reply. "But she's a cat and cats can't talk."

"She does. Don't ask. The less you know the better it is for your mental health." I rubbed his shoulder.

"Pete's mental health is long gone. What shouldn't he ask questions about though?" Patrick asked as he sat up and rubbed his head.

Cleo jumped up on the futon that doubled as my couch. "So he's the Peter I've heard so much about. Which one is this? Joe, Patrick, Dirty? Not Andrew Right?"

Patrick turned a new shade of pale when she spoke. "The cat's talking." He pointed at Cleo and looked up at me hopelessly

"Getting her to talk isn't the problem; it's getting her to stop." I said being as honest as I could be.

"Cats aren't supposed to talk." His voice was small almost childlike.

"Patrick it's ok she's a special cat." Peter decided (after recently recovering from his shock) to comfort his friend.

Cleo came closer to them.

"I pictured Pete with pale skin and more the brooding type." She said looking him up and down.

"Why pale and brooding?" Peter asked.

"I figured if anyone was going to get close to her they'd have to be more like her."

"No offense boys, but what gives you the idea that they'll get close to me?" They are not going to get close to me! The closer they are the harder the kill.

"The way you talk, they interest you more then anyone in six hundred years." She said matter-of-factually.

"The cat's immortal to?" The color continued to drain from Patrick’s face.

"MY NAME IS CLEO!" She screamed in frustration.

"Hell if I know. Cleo are you immortal?" I asked bluntly.

"I don't know. 'They' say cats have nine lives but I live by the saying, 'they' are idiots."

"So you find us interesting Erin?" Peter mocked.

"Yeah because you're morons, especially Dirty." My voice faltered at the end as I said his name. I don't know if it was consideration for Peter or if I was actually effected by Dirty's loss.

"Yeah but he was the funniest moron I've ever met." Peter spoke slowly, reverent.

"I'm sorry Peter. I'll assume you were the closest to him, as he had your name tattooed on his toes." I put my hand on his shoulder in a comforting way. I'm not good with people so I don't know how well this worked.

"Yeah." He looked almost like he wanted to cry.

"He's not dead. He's around somewhere. Just he's not like you Peter." Just because some vampires decide to drink blood it doesn't mean anything.

"I know he's not me! I was never as brave as him and never as strong until I became this!" He gestured to himself. He was flying off the handle.

"Peter it's ok." I grabbed his shoulders to stop him.

"No it's not. Dirty was my support, as nasty as he was, he was my backbone when I couldn't stand up for myself." He calmed down but back to depressed.

"Hey man, remember you still have me, Andy, Joe, and now Erin." Patrick's eyes rose to mine with hope.

"Yeah. Guys lets try to get off the grim subject. I've got an idea help me clean!" Hey it had to be done, might as well get some help.

"Sure." Piped in the chipper as usual Patrick.

"Why not." Sighed the not so chipper Peter.

"So Peter come help me fold the curtains."

Peter followed me and picked up one side of the blood red curtain and I picked up the other side.

"Why'd you pick me?" Still depressed. He needs to cheer up he's depressing.

Now I know what Cleo means when she calls me a downer.

"You needed company more then Patrick at this moment."

He looked over to Patrick.

"Well I think he found company." He said a we completed the last fold with a laugh.

I turned and couldn't help but laugh.

There's Patrick going pale because Cleo was talking to him again.

Cleo couldn't hurt a fly.

How could he be scared of her?

"Patrick, I just made you a drink to keep you alive and now your jeopardizing that by not breathing. Breathing is essential to living." I can't believe he's reacting like this.

He took a deep breath.

"She's not going to kill you, you're not a mouse." I was still trying to joke him out of his fear.

"Hey Vampire Bitch, do you realize what time it is?" Cleo asked seriously.

"No what time is it, you overweight fleabag?" I said dully back to Cleo.

"Hey don't talk to Patrick that way!" Peter joked.

"Pete, you’re an asshole." Patrick said in a serious voice even though I knew they were joking.

"It's almost sunrise." Cleo didn't even pay attention to them fighting.

"How close?" I hope Peter has enough time to go home. I do not want to share a coffin with him.

"Like so close that we don't have time for this conversation."

I walked to the window.

"Patrick remember to get Joe and Andy today at noon. I think that I have to go now." Peter said in a hurry to leave.

I looked back at him from the window.

"Peter don't." Now this sucks. "You won’t make it home before the sun rises. You have to share the coffin with me." I sounded sad, I hope I didn't offend him but I hate sharing my coffin.

He smirked.

"Get any ideas Wentz and you’re out of the coffin and into the harsh reality of the sun faster then you can say, 'Oops.' Got it?" I had to get that straight before we entered small spaces together.

"Yes." He replied obediently.

I walked towards my bed and Peter followed.

I turned back to Patrick. "Patrick if you get tired before you go pick up Andrew and Joe you can fold the couch down into a bed."

"Ok thanks."

I opened my coffin. "How do you want to do this because I don't want to lie on top of you." The less touching the better.

"It's bigger then I ever pictured a coffin, we could probably lay on our sides." Peter suggested.

"Ok. In." I climbed in and laid on my left side.

He crawled in and laid on his right side and closed the casket.

We were facing each other.

Fantastic... Not really.

He had things on other things on his mind that had nothing to do with sleeping, that he was trying to suppress. But I could see it without reading his mind.

He was looking from my eyes to my lips and biting his lip.

God, young vampires are so... Human!

But his humanity didn't bother me.

"Here lets try it like this." I said and flipped on to my other side so my back was to his chest.

"Can you read minds Erin?" He asked out of the blue sounding a bit exasperated.

"If I choose. Why?" Forget lying to him.

"How often do you do it?" He sounded almost worried.

"Not often, it's rude to go through another person’s mind. It's supposed to be the only place that you’re safe. The only time I read your mind was when I walked up to you on that street yesterday when we were approaching each other and you showed no fear."

"Ok. Don't you ever get curious as to what another person is thinking?" He ran his finger through my hair.

I'll ignore that.

"No. I almost always know without reading minds." I stated honestly.

"How then?" He was even more exasperated then a moment ago.

"Their face says a lot." I said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What if their face is a mask?"

How many questions does he have?!

"Then resort to mind reading." I was tired, and grumpy.

"What if you can't read minds?" He asked honestly.

Did I mention I was tired and grumpy? "Then you're screwed." Not the answer he wanted but I didn't care.

He ran his hand through my hair again.

Ok I've got to read his mind now.

'I wish I could read her mind.'

Why would he want to read my mind?

Why did you want to read his?

I don't know.

Why am I fighting myself?

Because you need sleep.

That I'll do.

And I was out like a light.