Con sat stretched out on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, his head on Taemin's shoulder. Ella sat on his other side, curled up into a ball, her fingers gently combing through Con's hair. He couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.

He'd finally stopped shaking, his body soaking in the warmth from the siblings. He knew they were waiting for him to speak. Every time he tried, though, the words got caught in his throat. Talking about it made it impossible to ignore.

The smell of blood seemed ingrained in his skin. It stuffed itself up his nose and made him sick to his stomach. Con turned his head so he could bury his face against Taemin's throat, inhaling deeply. His skin had a light, musky-sweet scent that drove the copper stench away and soothed Con as much as Ella's soft touch did.

He was running out of time. The police would be here soon.

Slowly, he sat upright, scooting around until he was facing them. Ella's face was pale and set, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap now that they weren't busy with Con's hair. Taemin folded his long legs in, sitting cross-legged and watching Con with an intent stare.

Con took a deep breath, pressing his thumb against the newest cut on his wrist. Ella had cleaned and bound it, never once asking where it had come from. Dull pain flared, like he was poking at a faded bruise.

It needed to be said. Crazy as it was, Con needed to explain. He needed to say it now, get it out now. He couldn't risk blurting it out to the police.

"I see things," he said, the words scraping his throat raw. It was just better to get it over with. To rip it off like a band-aid. He kept his eyes pinned on the blankets beneath him. "I've been seeing things for about a year. I don't...I don't know if it's just...an intense stress reaction or a sudden onset of schizophrenia. I don't even know if that's how it works. I'm just...crazy."

He shrugged, his heart pounding in his throat and his mouth dry as he waited.

"Since your wife died," Taemin said, his voice low. Sad.

Con just nodded. A small whimper made him lift his gaze to find Ella fighting back tears. She dashed her hands angrily against her eyes, then crawled forward. Con opened his arms and she settled into his lap, her arms wrapping around him.

"What did you see that had you running down the hall?" Taemin asked, fingers playing with his fox pendant.

At first, Con wasn't sure how to answer. Rule of thumb dictated that he didn't reveal any more of his weakness than he already had. Ella rested her head against his shoulder and threaded her fingers through his. Con took heart in the fact that her first reaction had been to move toward him, rather than away.

He swallowed hard. "It's...kind of stupid."

Taemin blinked, then gave him a fish-eyed stare, his mouth twisting. "No, it's really not, Constantine."

Annoyance flittered through him, quickly chased by a grateful sensation. Taemin wasn't afraid of him. He wasn't even necessarily afraid for him. He just...wanted to know what Con was going through. He wasn't promising to fix it or make it somehow better. 

Neither was Ella. They just wanted to understand what was happening to him—wanted him to let them in.

"Butterflies." When neither so much as blinked, waiting for more, Con sighed. He ran his free hand through his damp hair. "Black butterflies. I just...at first I thought it was random. Sometimes things pop up like that. It's just I usually see something like spiders or swarms of flies or, like, scarab beetles. Worms and maggots in my Chinese food instead of lo mein and rice. Creepy things like that."

"So butterflies probably didn't seem that bad," Ella murmured, her breath warming the skin of his throat.

Con nodded, looking down to find her playing with the pendant of a necklace. Before he realized what he was doing, Con reached for it. He flipped it over in his fingers to find something similar to Taemin's necklace, except Ella's had the fox sitting on its hindquarters, its forepaws gripping a shimmering black gem.

Purples and blues flickered in its center as he ran his thumb over the smooth stone. Ella let out a sigh, turning her head toward her brother. Con looked up just in time to watch him give her a shrug.

Before he could begin to wonder what silent communication had passed between the siblings, Taemin asked, "So why did it send you running from the room?"

"What?" Con shook his head. "Oh." He bit his lip, then decided he might as well throw everything down for them to see. "They appear and then someone dies."

Silence reigned for a moment after that pronouncement. Ella shifted in his lap and Taemin leaned farther forward.

Con repeated himself, like saying it twice would make it sound less insane. "Every time I've seen one, someone dies." His fingers drifted over the cuts the insects had left. On his cheek, his hand, his wrist. "These are from them."

"The...the cuts?" Taemin asked, perplexed. He reached forward, his thumb brushing along the healing line beneath Con's eye. Ella's fingers drifted over the old cut on his hand and the new one on his wrist.

Con's eyes slid closed. "Yes. Or...well...no. I don't know. The butterfly's wing touches me and the cuts are left. But the butterflies aren't real so...so I guess I'm the one making these cuts."

A small sound of distress came from Ella before she kissed Con's hand. Taemin's palm pressed briefly against his cheek and Con opened his eyes, resting his head lightly on top of Ella's. Slowly, he extended a hand. Taemin took it without reservation, lacing his fingers through Con's.

"When I saw the butterfly tonight, I knew what it meant. I ran because I was afraid. I was afraid someone else was dead." His fingers tightened around Taemin's. "I don't know if I wanted to see who it was, or if I was running because I didn't."

"But either way," Taemin said. "You didn't do it."

Con lowered his head. "I hate this," he murmured. "I hate seeing these things. I hate it when my mind gives you monster eyes and claws and fangs." He glanced at Taemin. "That's why we fought that morning. I—my mind freaked out and made you a monster. It's not the first time that's happened."

No. The first time had been six months ago, when he'd been wandering the city at night, unable to sleep without Jenna beside him. He hadn't been paying attention when he'd turned down that alley. He hadn't seen the man slipping up behind him, not until he'd shoved him against the wall.

He'd wanted Con's wallet and his watch. Con had looked down to retrieve them. When he'd looked up, the man wasn't a man anymore. He was a monster, covered in scales with a mouth full of jagged fangs. His mind had turned his attacker's wanting his money into wanting his blood.

Con didn't remember much of what transpired after that. Everything had been corrupted by his fear. He knew he'd fought. When he'd woken the next morning, he was in a hospital with fractured knuckles, a broken collarbone, three cracked ribs and more bruises than he could count.

The other man had come off substantially worse. Con had somehow managed to crack his skull, leaving him in a coma. The police had ruled it self-defense. Con had stopped walking the streets at night after that.

Con told them everything, the words spilling out of him like poisonous bile. Still, they didn't flinch away. Tears stung the back of his throat as Ella drew him into a hug, her hand on the back of his neck. He had to close his eyes when Taemin drew near, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his chin on Con's free shoulder.

He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, allowing them to comfort him. Allowing himself to be comforted.

Then, Ella whispered, "It might... I don't think it's because you're crazy."

Con opened his eyes and looked down at her. He blinked. "Did you...miss the part where I explained about seeing shit that's not there?"

"That doesn't necessarily mean it's because you're crazy," she said shifting off his lap so she could look him in the eye. Her gaze darted to Taemin, who shook his head, his sharp chin digging into Con's shoulder.

She grimaced, obviously unhappy. After staring at her brother for another moment, she sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Con tried to turn, but Taemin draped one arm over his shoulder. His hands linked together just below Con's sternum, holding him close.

Con couldn't help but relax against Taemin's chest.

"You might have some...ability," Ella said quietly, drawing Con's attention back to her. She was staring at their reflections in the dark window, her gaze unfocused. "It happens sometimes. People have a brush with death and it doesn't quite let them go." She turned her head to look at him. "This started happening after the car wreck, right?"

Con furrowed his brow, trying to remember if he'd ever told her how Jenna had died. When Taemin cleared his throat and shifted against Con, he turned his head to level a glare on the other man.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I just...sorry. I should have let you tell her."

Con's anger dimmed suddenly as he realized it didn't actually bother him all that much. Not like it usually did when he learned someone had been talking about him and the accident. He knew Ella hadn't asked out of base curiosity. He knew Taemin hadn't told her just because it was an interesting piece of gossip.

So he lifted a hand, lightly patting Taemin's hair to let him know he wasn't really that mad.

Ella gave him a slightly guilty smile, but pressed on. "I've seen the scar you told Tae about. It...seemed pretty traumatic. Maybe that—"

A breath rushed out of Con, making Ella stop talking and Taemin flinch. Con was staring at Ella, his eyes so wide he was pretty sure they'd pop out of his head any moment. He struggled to speak for a minute, his rational mind insisting he was just clinging to what could be considered a reasonable explanation. That he was just trying to pretend his way out of insanity.

"I..." He closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms against them. He licked his lips. "I died. I mean...technically, I died. For seven minutes. The...the blood loss was so traumatic I went into cardiac arrest twice." He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. "The second time I flat-lined, they called me. When I woke up, the first thing they said was I'd been clinically dead for seven minutes. That I was lucky to be alive."

Ella's eyes were huge. Taemin had scooted somehow closer, his body pressing against Con's.

He took a stuttering breath. "The bastards didn't tell me until the next day that Jenna had died. I sat in that room for a day thinking I still had a wife."

Taemin turned his head so his lips touched the side of Con's neck. There was only comfort in the gesture. Something splashed onto the skin at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sliding over his collarbone. Again, he raised a hand to touch Taemin's soft hair. When he looked at Ella, he found her in tears as well.

It made his chest hurt, realizing that their tears were for him. He didn't want them to be in pain because of him.

Ella brushed at her eyes, taking a deep breath. Her voice only wobbled slightly when she said, "Well, there you go. You died. Now you see death omens."

Part of him clamored that was absurd. The other part argued that it was no less absurd than him seeing things to begin with.

"It's better than being crazy," he admitted, his fingers slipping over Taemin's hair as he dropped his hand. "But I don't really..."

"Are you seriously going to say you don't really believe in this stuff?" Ella asked, raising an eyebrow. "Con, you've got cuts all over you. Every time you've seen these butterflies, someone's died."

"But I don't just see the butterflies," he said through gritted teeth, unable to just accept what she was saying. "I see monsters and shadow people and...and... My brain turned Taemin into a monster for Christ's sake! Hell, its given you weird orange eyes and fangs several times." He widened his eyes at her. "So what explanation do you have for that?"

Ella bit her lip, looking troubled. Again, her eyes strayed to Taemin. Again, he shook his head. Irritated, Con opened his mouth, intent on demanding to know what they were thinking about.

The lock of his door clicking open sucked all the words out of him. He looked over just as the door swung open to reveal a very grim Sheriff Jones. The man's eyes swept over the tableau before him, then settled directly on Con. Officer Morris hovered in the hallway alongside Clara and a man in the hotel's uniform.

"I think you know why I'm here, Mister Brennan," he said, voice low and solemn. "And I think you know what I have to ask next."

Taemin growled, the sound rolling through Con before he gently disentangled himself. Both Parks stood when he did. He gave the sheriff a nod. "I do. But I'm also gonna kick this off with saying I had absolutely nothing to do with it."

The sheriff inclined his head as he gestured toward the hall. "Still gotta take you in, Mister—"

"Maybe at this point you should just call me Con," he said, trying to still the trembling that had started deep in his gut and spread to the rest of his body. "Saves a little time."

Sheriff Jones didn't respond, just waiting for Con to cross the room. Con decided to take it as a good sign that he wasn't being dragged out in handcuffs.

He took a step forward, but a tugging in his chest stopped him. He swallowed, staring at the floor for the briefest moment. In that second, he decided he really didn't have anything to lose. Ignoring their audience, he turned.

Ella was closest, so he grabbed her first, lowering his mouth to hers. The kiss was intense but brief, her lips parting beneath his. She kissed him back, her tongue sliding across his upper lip. He pulled away before he could lose track of himself and turned to Taemin.

His eyes widened as Con grabbed his wrist, yanking him forward. This kiss was more of a collision, Taemin's mouth on his so hard it was almost painful. Taemin's teeth came down on his lip, sharp canines piercing the sensitive skin.

Con pulled away, eyes flickering between the two of them. They glanced at each other, then looked at him and shrugged simultaneously. Ella reached forward, her thumb brushing the corner of his mouth.

It came away red, his lip stinging where Taemin had accidentally broken the skin.

"We'll be there to get you when you're done," Taemin said, shooting a venomous look at the sheriff.

Con nodded and grabbed his jacket before he exited the room. His mouth buzzed and his mind was stuck halfway between amazement and uncertainty.

As they left the hotel and approached the sheriff's cruiser, though, Con's thoughts turned to something far less pleasant. He stayed silent as they drove toward town, trying to prepare himself for what happened next.