Later on in the night, Callas sat down at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen. The clock at the bottom right-hand corner read 'eleven forty-nine p.m.'. Her cursor hovered over the same document that Will had left, and she would occasionally switch to the article that he had also brought up. With a sigh, she stood up, making her way over to her bedroom door. When she opened it, she was met with darkness, and she peaked her head out and looked down the hallway, seeing a light shining from underneath Reed's door. She stepped out of her room and made her way over to his, gently knocking on his door. There was a shuffling on the other side, and when he opened the door, she could see police files scattered on his bed, and a movable corkboard was shoved between the furthest side of his bed and the wall. Some random work-related pictures and notes were stuck up with pins and a red string was connecting some of the notes of text.

     "I thought you were asleep," he told her, checking his watch.

     "Wasn't tired." She shrugged. He glanced back to see what she was looking at and he sighed, opening his door more to let her in.

     "It's Will's case," he told her. "Charlie asked if I could write up the report, and make it as inconspicuous as possible."

     "He knows about the supernatural," she mumbled, nodding her head. "I thought you had finished it already."

     "No, we needed to go over some details, make a plan so our reports sounded as mundane and non-supernatural as we could. I'm almost done though, the board is just so I can keep track of who Will really is, he's a fairly difficult guy to get any information on, and the name is pretty common in most places."

     Callas hummed, picking up one of the pictures on his bed, the same crime scene photo she had seen before, from the file Will had left in her bathroom. "I have to show you something."

     "Yeah?" He asked. She looked away from the photo and over to him, he was leaning over the back of his desk chair, clicking random things on his computer, the corkboard above his desk no longer had work-related items or slithers of articles he had cut out. Instead, it was covered with pictures of his old friends, and some new ones. Two pictures had people she had never seen before, but they were wearing uniforms so she knew they were his work friends. She let the picture in her hand drop to his bed. When she didn't say anything else, he looked back at her with her eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

     "It's on my computer."

     "Okay?" He stood up straighter, turning to face her, leaning back against his desk chair with his arms folded across his chest.

     "When Will had left the file in my bathroom, he had also left some stuff on my computer," she started and quickly held her hand up to stop Reed from interrupting, "I didn't tell you before because everything was happening so fast and the stress was getting to me, I didn't think—at the time—that you'd be able to do anything about it. But, now, you're involved, and you've already seen his messages to me when you had my phone, so... it's time you see these ones."

     Reed frowned, but nodded anyway, following her out of his room and into hers, pulling her desk chair out for him to sit on while she stood beside him and clicked onto the document. She stepped back and sat on the corner of her bed while Reed looked at the screen. "What the hell is this?" He glanced back at her quickly before he turned to look back at the screen.

     Think, Callas. Think very hard. You know what I am. What I really am. You know what I can do. I didn't make you forget everything, although I could have, but this is more fun. You know more than you think you do, trust me. Somewhere, deep down, in that pretty little head of yours, you will remember me. We've had some fun, Callas. But playtime is over. I don't have time to be waiting around anymore. Well, I do, but you don't. I must say, I think it's cute, you are playing with a pack of dogs, but their stench won't keep me away from you, nothing will. So, when you finally remember me—the real me—I will know, and when I do, I will be coming for you. Oh, and one last thing before I forget, I do hope your dear friend Henry gets better. I hope nothing else happens to him. It would be a shame. Until next time.

     "He's threatening Henry now as well?"

     "Well, he was the one that caused the accident," she replied. "He's saying that as an incentive, so I'd remember faster. But the dumbass made that practically impossible for me. He might not have made me forget everything, but he sure as hell didn't make it easy for me to remember whatever it is that I'm supposed to."

     Reed sat back on Callas's chair and sighed, lifting his left hand as he counted the list off with his fingers. "Well, we know he's a vampire, so the first part is already done, we know he can compel people, so... check. All you have to do now is remember the real him, whatever that version of him is."

     "Yeah, but that's going to be the hardest part. Who the hell knows how I'm supposed to do that!" There was a short pause before she continued again, "T-There's an article as well." Callas awkwardly pointed to the computer again. He looked over at her and furrowed his eyebrows, sitting up straighter as he closed the document and saw the article pop up from behind it.

     Reed cleared his throat and began reading the article, "'It comes as no shock to the people of La Push, Washington, that the recent bear attack activities have risen in the last few months more than it has in the last century or so.' Bear attacks?"

     "That's apparently the story that they were going with, because, you know, non-vampires aren't meant to know about their existence."

     He sighed, nodding his head. "Yeah, but—"

     "And bears did attack the bodies after they had been left out."

     "But aren't they meant to be drawn to blood?"

     Callas raised her hands. "Now, I'm no bear expert, but I'm pretty sure bears don't just go after animals, they go after cooking pots and utensils, food is food, regardless of whether they can actually eat it or not. They go after almost anything. Isn't that what those park rangers said in that documentary Dad made us watch?"

     "Whatever." Reed huffed, looking back at the screen. "'It's hard to determine why these levels have spiked, or what might have caused the sudden shift, but it's clear to those working on these cases, and the professionals at the nearest hospitals, that the victims of these unfortunate and devastating events have, in fact, been drained of their blood. Although there isn't much evidence to suggest that these attacks were, in fact, foul play and left for the bears...' like hell there isn't, they had their blood drained, what more evidence is needed for them to realise that that shit isn't normal? Are these people idiots?"

     "Reed."

     "No, what dumbass wrote this? They were drained of their blood! That is foul play!"

     "They know that, read the next bit!"

     "'It's obvious that the bears were not able to drain these victims almost completely of their blood without there being large pools surrounding the victims.'"

     "See?"

     "Okay, so the writer knows that bears can't do that, great, we know they have at least one brain cell."

     "Just continue reading, would you?"

     "'The blood drained victims have been found with bruising around their wrists and necks, although it's hard to tell what might have caused those injuries due to the conditions the bodies had been left in, but we do know that they were injuries sustained prior to the post-mortem autopsies.'" Reed tilted his head, making a face at the screen as he read. "Were they tortured or something?"

     "Maybe, I don't know. Unless it was to just stop them from trying to escape."

     "'A few of the bodies, that were examined, also showed two puncture wounds around the base of the neck. That could suggest that someone had placed two tubes into the holes to remove the victims blood before transporting the bodies away to a different location, as the neck—'" Reed scanned the next few sentences in silence. "Blah, blah, blah, blood flow and the functioning's of the human body—" Reed scratched his neck, skimming passed part of the article that she had skipped. "Two puncture wounds around the base of the neck... I swear if no one connected the dots to vampires I'm seriously concerned about the intelligence and ability to use common sense of this author and anyone else who read this and didn't think that was strange."

     "I think the fact that the bear attack part was so overly spread in the news, they focused more on that."

     "Yeah, maybe, but, I mean, seriously, c'mon. That sentence screams vampire."

     "Hey, if you didn't know about their existence, you'd think it was someone trying to imitate a creepy folklore monster. Some whack job pretending to be one to throw police off their tracks."

     "You didn't think vampire when you first read this, did you?" He teased.

     "Keep reading," she spoke through gritted teeth, "this is meant to be a serious moment."

     "Alright, alright." He cleared his throat. "One victim, identified as Fr—" Reed stopped talking and leaned closer to the computer. "'One victim, identified as Freya Quinn, was also found deep in the forest. The coroner's report claimed that she had been drained of blood before her body had been mutilated by claw-like blades—or what was later revealed as bear claws—and her heart was removed surgically, most likely before her body was dumped.'"

     Reed blinked and sat back, his mouth moving as he silently mouthed the words on the screen. Callas picked at the skin around her nails, feeling her heart race as she watched her brother read on.

     "'It is unclear as to why Quinn's heart was removed, while the other victims still had remnants of their organs left behind, including their hearts. But it is safe to say that Quinn's family can rest easy as a suspect was taken into custody earlier this morning and confessed to the murder of, one, Freya Quinn. For safety reasons—'" He stood up abruptly. "'Dumped'? That's the word they used? They make it sound like she was a piece of trash, not a person! Where's the respect? Where's the common human decency? They make her sound like she's just some other death statistic! There was no humanity there!"

     "Reed—"

     "Our mother was murdered, the least they could do was write about her death like it meant something, not just throw her in there like some unimportant tidbit! Like she was something to gossip about, not to mourn over."

     "I know. They dehumanised her."

     "Dehumanised? They alienated her, called her trash, they made it sound so sterile like her death shouldn't incite anger, shock, unimaginable grief!" He sat back down with his head in his hands, his fingers gripping his hair. His body looked tense before it slowly began to shake, and, soon, Callas could hear the silent sobs taking over, wracking through his body.

     Callas quickly got up and wrapped her arms around him. He reacted automatically and sat up, hugging her close to him. "This is why we need to kill Will, Reed. Bring some sort of justice to her death."

     Reed sniffed while he nodded his head, agreeing. "Yeah, we do."

     "Do you understand why I was so adamant earlier?"

     He nodded once more, pulling away from the hug, looking over at her computer screen where he quickly closed both tabs, shoving the mouse away from himself. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I just—" He sniffed. "I shouldn't have dismissed you so quickly."

     Callas sat back down on the edge of her bed. "I won't be involved with the fight if there is one. I just want to burn his body. I want to be a part of it."

     "I can respect that," he replied. "I'll see if I can get Sam to agree. I'll talk to him tomorrow." He checked his watch. "Later today, actually. It's half twelve. You should get some sleep."

     "So should you."

     "Yeah." Reed stood up, wiping at his eyes again. He let out a shaky breath, smiling weakly at her. "Thank you, for showing me that."

     "I don't want to keep secrets like this from you. Keeping secrets from each other is what got us into this mess, what got you taken away from me."

     "Sam's sorry about that."

     "The milkman can try to make excuses for what he did all he wants, some might even be good points, but he could have at least let you pick up the phone."

     Reed grinned, laughing quietly, feeling the pressure lifting from his chest. "Yeah, well, he knows better now."

     "He better."

     Callas stood up, and Reed kissed the top of her head. "Night, Cal."

     "Night, Weeb."

     Reed lifted his hand and messed up her hair. Callas slapped his hands away, watching as he walked over to her door. He quickly turned back around, his eyes not reaching her's as his gaze stopped at her bedside table. He stayed staring at the picture frame of their family, and he opened his mouth, closing it quickly before he furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. "I love you; I hope you know that."

     She nodded. "I know. And I hope you know that I love you."

     Slowly, he nodded, his eyes shifting away from the photo as he turned back around, opening her door before he quickly turned off her light and left, closing the door behind himself.

     "Hey!" She yelled out to him. Turning on the lamp on her bedside table, squinting at the bright light. She turned off her computer and climbed into bed, letting out a sigh. Callas hoped that Reed would be able to convince Sam to let her do that one thing, she needed to in order to allow herself to feel closure.