God Hates Us

"Hello?"

"Scott?"

"Who's this?"

"It's Cass."

"Oh, hey, Cass! How long's it been?"

"I know, it's been years. Listen, I need a hand with something."

"What's up?"

"I got me a dead vamp and no way to get rid of it."

"...Do I want to know why?"

"No, you don't. Just get your ass over here."

There are a few seconds of silence, then I hear a sigh. "I'll be over in ten."

"Great. Thanks."

Hanging up the phone, I walk back round the mess to the bedroom door, poking my head round. Johnny's lying spread-eagled on his back on top of the covers, eyes closed, one arm hanging over the side of the bed. His face is paler than usual but there's no redness coming through the bandages, which is a good sign. Poor guy's exhausted... He's probably suffering the effects of blood loss – it affects vampires the same as humans in that they feel weak and lethargic, but it doesn't kill them. Still, probably best to let him sleep.

I walk slowly back to the living room. May as well make a start of cleaning up. I grab the rest of Johnny's torn up shirt, mopping up the worst of the blood and dumping the bloody scraps of fabric in a pile, squeezing the blood into the bowl of water. I'm in the middle of emptying and refilling the bowl for the second time, almost done with cleaning the floor around the corpse, when I hear a soft knock at the door.

"Who's there?" I call through the dooor without opening it.

"Pest control."

I smile at the old joke, then pull the door open. "Hey, Scott. Thanks for comin' over so fast."

He comes in, pulling a cleaning trolley behind him (you know, the sort you see janitors pulling around).

"Where's the- Oh." He stops in the middle of his sentence when he spots Lacey. "Right."

Scott was an old hunting partner of mine but we lost touch after I went solo. I haven't seen him since, but he hasn't changed. Still wearing the same faded sleeveless Metallica shirt, same blue jeans, same scuffed black Doc Martens. Even his hair's the same, still in its untidy, gingery-brown ponytail. Probably still got his old job at the mortuary, too.

If he's thinking the same about me, he doesn't say anything. Instead, like the professional he is, he gets straight to work.

He works fast, removing the corpse from my living room floor and transferring it to the space under the trolley where the black plastic sides shield it from view. I don't watch, instead focusing my efforts on keeping Marco away from Scott while he works. It's not that the cat doesn't like him; on the contrary, Marco loves him, but that's just the problem. If I'm not careful, the stupid cat will walk through the blood and I'll be washing bloody cat paw-prints out of the upholstery and bedclothes for weeks.

When I next look over, I'm just in time to see Scott putting a bottle of bleach back on the trolley and removing a pair of heavy-duty rubber gloves. The floor is spotless; he's swept the splintered coffee-table into a pile and cleaned up the blood as well.

"Wow, good job. Thanks," I say fervently.

"No problem." He frowns for a second. "That was an awful lot of blood for just one person."

"Not your problem," I say quickly. "You don't want to know, trust me."

He still looks at me dubiously, but nods. "Alright. Feel free to call the cops in about twenty minutes. I'll dump her in an alley off Hickory Street."

"Okay. Thanks again, Scott."

"We're square now, yeah?" he asks, looking worried.

I chuckle. "Yeah, we're square. I won't be calling you for this again, I promise."

"Alright then. Good to see you again, Cass." And he's gone, taking the dead bitch with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About fifteen minutes after the door closes, there's another knock at the door. Who on earth...?

I've barely opened the door before it's pushed open, bouncing back against the wall. It's Zack, the others behind him. "What the hell are you-" I start to demand, rubbing my hand where the door-handle wrenched it, but my words are cut off as Zacky grabs me hard by the shoulders. The door slams shut behind the boys and I hear one of them turn the lock.

"Where is he?" Zacky snarls, his face barely inches from mine. He looks furious; must still be smarting about my escape.

A flutter of fear runs through me, but I hold my ground, staring right back at him. For a second, I think about lying, but then I remember that with their telepathy, that would be useless. Plus, the mood he's in, he'd probably kill me. "He's in there."

He nods at Jimmy, who follows my pointed finger to the bedroom door, pushing it open. Then, seeing what's inside, he stops and turns. "What the fuck happened?"

"What good did torturing him get you, then?" Zacky says, his tone now dangerously low. His eyes, I notice, are developing a silvery sheen.

"I didn't torture him!" I burst out, suddenly furious.

"She's a fucking vampire killer!" Matt breaks in. "You're gonna trust her word?"

"You staked him. Why wouldn't you do something like this?" Zacky speaks matter-of-factly, but the way his hands clench as he says it betrays his true feelings.

"Ow! Can you loosen up a little?" I'm gonna bruise tomorrow, I can feel it. "Yeah, I staked him. He told me to." I figure that after all that had happened, there's no point in trying to conceal the truth of my escape any longer.

Zacky freezes, then his hands loosen slightly on my shoulders. "He...told you to?"

"Yeah. So you might want to rethink killing me until you talk to him." I step back, out of his reach, and rub my upper arms, wincing.

After a few seconds of silent conversation between the vamps, Zacky turns back to me and asks, "You gonna tell us what actually happened, then?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got time," he says. The others nod and they head towards the couch; two of them sit on it, another on the back, and Jimmy sits cross-legged on the floor.

"Alright, but I gotta make a phone call first." Going back into the kitchen, I grab a disposable cell-phone from a drawer, switch it on and dial 911. "Yeah, I'm calling to report a murder. The body's in an alley just off of Hickory Street. What? You want my name? Sure, my name is-" I hang up the phone and stamp on it, smashing it under my foot, then toss the fragments in the trash and walk round the couch to perch on the edge of the TV cabinet.

"What was that about?" Jimmy asks, looking amused.

"Damage control," I reply shortly, then prepare to tell the gruesome story (with some edits).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So...Lacey's dead?"

I nod once.

"And Johnny killed her?" Zack asks, incredulous. "Not that I didn't think he had it in him, just that... He's never killed anyone before."

"I know," I reply quietly.

"How'd he take it?"

I don't reply verbally, but my expression seems to be enough.

"You mean you couldn't kill her yourself?" Matt asks with a cheeky grin. "Big tough hunter like you?"

Fuck you, I reply with a scathing glance in his direction.

"What's going on?"

We all turn to the bedroom door; Johnny's standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. He still looks terrible, but he looks a lot more alert than he did half an hour ago.

"How you feeling?" I ask as he walks over. Matt gets up to make space on the couch and he sits down gratefully.

"Super," he replies with mild flippancy, then winces. "What are you guys doing here?" He frowns.

"Lookin' for you, bro," Jimmy replies.

"Yeah, Lacey showed up and we figured that meant trouble, so..." Brian adds.

"Besides," Zacky finishes, "we could ask you the same."

For a moment, Johnny doesn't reply. Then, so suddenly it makes me jump, he's on his feet beside me, one arm round my shoulders. There's a very long moment of silence as the boys hear and digest what he's thinking.

Then, everyone reacts at once. Jimmy and Matt both exclaim wordlessly, Brian curses imaginatively and Zacky just blinks once, his expression frozen in shock.

"L...Love?" he says finally, his voice so soft it's almost inaudible.

Johnny lifts his chin defiantly; I feel it through my shoulder and take courage from his resolution.

"How is this possible?" Matt mutters, unknowingly repeating my own words from that moment, months ago, when I found out.

"Does she feel the same?" Zack asks suddenly, looking at Johnny.

Indignation at being spoken about instead of to stings me out of silence. "I am still here, you know!"

"Alright." He turns his head slightly to face me. "Do you?"

I don't hesitate. Running my arm round Johnny's waist, I hug him close and say softly but firmly, "Yes, I do." Johnny squeezes my shoulders reassuringly and we stand together as his brothers consider this new turn of events, talking silently amongst each other. I'm sure he can hear what they're saying, but a glance at his face only shows me he's thinking hard.

I've just started to feel a little nervous when they turn back towards us. Zacky walks towards us across the newly cleaned laminate, his expression unreadable. Inexplicably, I feel Johnny relax, even laugh quietly. Zack stops in front of us and spreads his arms slightly, hands open, then smiles at me.

"Welcome to the family."