COLLAB WITH MY FRIEND, Skylar_Cloud

# 1
EVERY ACTION HAS ITS EQUAL OPPOSITE REACTION
Blood, that's what Thomas needed right now. Of course Madison had to go on some emergency meeting, He thought, cursing. He hadn't consumed blood in three days and now his senses were heightened, teasing him and tempting him with the sweet saltiness of blood. He could smell it all around him, and it was tantalising.
People passed him without a second glance, ignorant the hidden danger lurking right beside them. He never wanted to and never will like taking human blood. His elf friend, Madison, always provided animal blood for him, fresh and clean. But for this month he has to go do some of his elfish businesses. Thomas tried to ration the blood and not consume it all at once, but,
after a week, it was all gone and Thomas has to bear his hunger for three more weeks till Madison comes back. That was a death sentence.
He walked into an empty classroom trying calm his raging thoughts and to forget his cravings, if only for just a moment. It helped him focused on how to gain more blood. Perhaps he could get into some clan or hunt some animals for himself. But the prospect of rejection or having blood on his hands(even if only animals) didn't seem to quite agree with him.
His musings of blood subsided as he recalled his memories of the time before he became a vampire. There was no need of hiding from the sun, or wearing hoodies to class or taking seats away from the window. He could play outside without worrying about getting scorched or burnt. He could be free without the burden of hiding from his family and friends.
These thoughts only lasted for about five or six minutes before his nose caught scent of something. Blood.
Consumed by the thoughts of hunger, he suddenly jumped off his seat attacking the person who just entered the classroom.
He sank his teeth into the soft flesh, relishing the taste of fresh blood. Somewhere inside himself, he was screaming, yelling to stop, Stop, STOP!
His victim was screaming, fighting, which was futile. One of those flailing arms did manage to snag at his face, causing a long cut that had blood running down and unto the person below him. He paid it no heed.
Enough blood was consumed that Thomas began returning to his senses. He wondered what happened? Why was there- a crash resounded as Thomas jumped back in alarm and regret.
There was a bloody person lying there, still and unmoving. "Oh God, oh God." Thomas muttered, rushing towards the body. He pushed away the hair covering the person's face and reeled back, a cry of surprise coming from his lips. Hamilton. Alexander Freaking Hamilton. Thomas ran a hand through his hair, blinking back tears threatening to shed. Guilt churned in his gut as he held two fingers to Hamilton's neck, hoping that maybe just maybe please, there would be a pulse.
Tears began pouring down his face when there was one. Yes! He put his arms under Hamilton, running towards the only place he knew where to go, knowing that no one will bother them and ran as fast as he could, knowing full well that he held a bloody body in his arms.
He shifted his arms so that he was carrying Hamilton in one arm, and began pounding on the door with his other. "Help, please!" He cried, fear gripping his heart as Hamilton's breathing became more shallow.
The office door was flung open and Thomas met the eyes of George Washington. The said eyes widened as he took in the sight before him: Thomas carrying Alexander Hamilton who was unconscious and very bloody.
"What happened." Washington hissed, ushering him inside and gesturing for him to lay the body on the floor. Washington quickly began checking the pulse and trying to staunch the bleeding.
The whole story spilled out of him, how he ran out of blood and Hamilton walked in and how he pounced on the latter and sucked his blood and how he tried to stop but he just couldn't-
Washington held up a hand. "You bit him." It was more of a statement than a question, and Thomas flinched at the unbridled fury in the man's eyes. "Y-Yes."
"Did he consumed any of your blood? You do know how people turn to vampires right?"
Thomas nodded. The one bitten has to have vampire saliva enter his bloodstream as well have vampire blood....Oh God. His hand flew to his face where the once bleeding cut had been, and though it was already healed, where the blood had fallen onto Hamilton. "I t-think he d-did." He answered, remembering it through hazy memories. Yes, he was sure Hamilton had consumed his blood. There was no denying that fact.
"What do we do?" Thomas asked, almost pleading.
"We go through the process." He sighed, looking to Thomas in an expression akin to pity, though with leftover righteous anger. Thomas froze. "Damn."
Washington nodded. "You wait here, I'll go get some blood for when he gets out."
Thomas nodded, still in a daze. He kneeled beside Hamilton, and watched his laboured breathing, knowing that he was dying. "Hamilton, I'm so so so sorry." He sobbed. "I didn't m-mean for this to h-happen. I didn't mean for a-any of this to happen." He watched as Hamilton breathed his last breathe and heard the door click.
"He's dead." Thomas said numbly, looking up at Washington. The said man nodded, looking out the window, sorrowful. This lasted for a few moments before he spoke. "Let's go. It's dark enough that you won't get burned." He handed the bottles of blood, who knows from where, to Thomas, and lifting Hamilton into his arms. Thomas followed him as Washington to his car and stood as the man played the body at the back gently. Like a son. Thomas thought.
"Get in." Washington said gruffly. Thomas nodded, riding shotgun. Washington started the engine and they sped down the road to the nearest cemetery.
The ride was awkward at the best.
"I'm sorry." Thomas said at last, breaking the silence.
"What?" Washington responded, glancing at him for a moment before looking back at the road. "For what?"
"For all this." Thomas gestured. "I know you hate me, so thank you for helping me."
"Why would I hate you?" Washington asked, sounding genuinely shocked. Thomas resisted the urge to laugh.
"Well, you're a werewolf, I'm a vampire, that's bound to stir some hatred. If not that, then the fact that I may as well have turned your son, I know he's not really your son, but he may as well be."
Washington remained silent for a while. Finally, he spoke. "I don't hate you. I am not bound by those silly prejudice between vampires and werewolves. What happened with Alex was not your fault."
At Thomas's pointed look, Washington conceded, "Alright, it is, but it was unintentional. You couldn't control it."
Thomas opened his mouth to answer, but shut his mouth as the tire screeched. "Let's go." Thomas nodded, quickly texting his mom that he was sleeping over that a friend's house, taking the bottles of blood and following Washington to a bare patch of dirt near some trees.
For the next hour or so, they buried Hamilton. Then they waited till the moon rose.
The noise made was horrible, and Thomas winced as he heard the moans of the dead, undead, whatever, as Hamilton dug his way out of the grave. He was judged forward by Washington. "Go." He gestured. "You have to feed him the blood, He'll try to take my blood If I try to feed him."
Thomas stepped forward hesitantly, and those eyes stared at him. They were glazed with hunger and Thomas held out an open bottle of blood unsure of what to do. Hamilton rushed forward quickly, taking hold of the bottle and sucking not unlike a baby. When that was finished, Thomas offered another one.
Soon, Hamilton was finished and began to take in his surroundings. The first thing he did was stood and brushed his clothes, which was almost comical. The next thing he did was punch Thomas in the face.
Later on, Thomas would admit that yes, he deserved that.

# 2
WATCH THE BLOOD AND THE CRAP SPRAY
Life as a werewolf is not easy, especially when you get to see your leader killed before your very eyes. Of course, the day started out very ordinary. Aaron woke up, got dressed and went to school. Of course, everyday isn't exactly normal. There was a new student today: Alexander Hamilton. Aaron didn't know what to think. Hamilton seemed very.....unique. For starters, he seemed younger than the other students. He also loved picking fights with Thomas Jefferson, the the leader of the debate team. They'd argue on and on about politics and even little things like why Jefferson wears that hideously large magenta jacket.
So in conclusion, this day wasn't normal. Later on, it got stranger.
Aaron was just sitting, reading a book and thinking over the day's events when a filthy man covered in blood stormed in yelling for William Howe.
What would he want from their clan leader?
As if fate had heard, the crowd that had formed parted and William Howe, in his full glory appeared.
"What do you want?" Howe drawled, not even looking at the stranger.
"I want vengeance!" Was the snarled response. "You killed my wife! You turned me into this." He said it with conviction, but last part was the tone of a man resigned to his fate.
"Hmm? Oh you." Howe stared at him, disdain coloring his voice. "You were just easy pickings. Nothing personal." He said, waving a hand with flourish.
The stranger growled. "You will die." Aaron watched as the stranger's nails elongated into claws, his teeth sharpening and eyes gleaming yellow.
"You can try." Howe said, shrugging, giving him a second of warning before he pounced.
The stranger lunged and met him midway, and they they fell to the ground in a hurricane of claws and blood.
Unconsciously, the clan members, including Aaron, had formed a circle around the two brawling canines, all stretching to get a glimpse of the fight.
Howe had gained the upper hand, crouched on top of his opponent, ready to deliver the final blow.
"No." The stranger snarled, swiping at Howe's face and sinking his claws into Howe's side.
Howe howled in pain and reeled back, a look of unmistakable anger on face. He bared his fangs. "For that, you will die painfully." He jumped, catching the stranger at the shoulder and and sending them both tumbling on the ground. He slashed viscously at the stranger's eyes, just barely missing.
For a moment they stopped, crouched low to the ground. Howe had one his eyes gouged out and his left ear was torn. A deep cut at his side was bleeding freely, blood spilling into the grass below.
The stranger did not look any better. He a deep cut on his chest, at least seven inches long. He was limping, possibly having broken a bone. Aaron watched his laboured breathing, and knew his had at least three fractured ribs. His body was a lattice if cuts and bruises. They all watched as he stood slowly, scanning the crowd and nodding, as if knowing he was going to die. He then spat at the ground and grinned, teeth stained with blood.
Howe matched it and with a yell, attacked. They were once again on the ground, growls and snarls and snarls could be heard above the uncharacteristically silent crowd.
Finally, in a strange turn of events, the stranger overpowered Howe, due to anger or adrenaline, Aaron didn't know. The stranger lifted his claws into the air and swung it down. It made a loud squelching sound as blood spurted. Howe let out a choked scream as the stranger retracted his claws. He gasped weakly, blood gurgling. The stranger must have punctured a lung, Aaron mused.
Finally, Howe breathed his last and the spark in his eyes turned glassy and blank.
The stranger rose slowly, breathing hard, and looking at the crowd expectantly. He thinks we're going to kill him, Aaron thought with a start.
Aaron stepped forward. He was, after all, the second in command. "What is your name?" Aaron asked.
The stranger looked surprised and it was a moment before he answered. "George. George Washington."
Aaron nodded. He then turned to the crowd. "Behold our new leader! George Washington!"

-•-

Only a week had passed since George had become leader, but a lot of things can happen in a week. Whereas Howe ruled with fear, George ruled with kindness. Of course, he was confused the first few days, which left Aaron the task of looking after a clan and briefing George with the rules, traditions and responsibilities of a leader.
"For the last time, sir, we have to hunt in order to feed the clan." Aaron explained. "Or else our people will starve."
George frowned. "Can't we just go to the supermarket to buy?"
"No sir, a werewolf must eat fresh meat at least once a week, so we hunt every Tuesday."
"I don't like the idea of killing some innocent creature." George said, looking sick.
"I know sir, but it's for the best."
"Alright."

-•-

To say that Aaron was surprised was an understatement. He was in absolute state of shock when George walked in his class and introduced himself as their new teacher.
He watched the man become slowly beloved by the class. George was like this fatherly general. Hamilton in particular was very affected.
Aaron sympathised, knowing that Hamilton was an orphan. He probably latched on to the first fatherlike figure that entered his life. Aaron felt a twinge if protectiveness. Hamilton looked so young, at least a year or two younger than he was.
Many days passed and everything returned to there normal routine, well, as normal as could be. It was strange that he was absent at least once a month, it was more strange that George did the same. Then Hamilton began to visit George's office more often.
One day, Hamilton had walked in the room, looking like the dead. But, Aaron thought, he did look different. More......handsome. Then in follows Jefferson, sporting a black eye and looking worse for the wear. This was when Jefferson began accompanying Hamilton on those visits to George's office.
Hamilton and Jefferson began acting with more civility, if not friends, then at least acquaintances.
Aaron did wanted to be in the room where it happened, if only to satisfy his curiosity, but following his personal motto, he left it alone.
But he draws the line when Jefferson and Hamilton began visiting Washington at the clan.

-•-

"Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?" Aaron turned, albeit slowly. Full moon was just yesterday and he was still recovering.
"Depends, who's asking?" His eyes widened in shock when none other than Hamilton stood in front of him, Jefferson a few feet away.
"My name is Alexander Hamilton, I'm here to see Mr. Washington." He said eagerly, not unlike a puppy. If it were not for the internal panicking Aaron was going through, he would have laughed.
"Why would professor Washington be here?" He laughed nervously. "He's probably at his home at Mount Vernon. It is the weekend."
"Quit the excuses, Burr." Jefferson drawled, Southern accents palpable. "We know he's here."
Looking back on this, Aaron would blame his stupidity on the full moon.
"Er....no, maybe you should go see a mental hospital?" Aaron said, teasing, his heart racing.
"C'mon Burr, we know he's here. We know he's a werewolf, you're a werewolf, everyone there is a werewolf."
"Subtle, Hamilton. Real subtle." Jefferson muttered, sarcasm oozing.
Aaron froze. "Do you now. Where'd you hear that?"
"Washington." Hamilton answered simply.
Aaron opened his mouth to answer when none other than George appeared. "What's going on?" He asked, smiling, scanning the odd little group.
"Well, sir, they asked to see you." Aaron answered. "I was convincing them that they were crazy, until that is, you showed up."
"Ah." George nodded. "No need for that. You see, they're vampires."
Jefferson snorted.
"Oh." Now that Aaron did think about it, the signs were painfully obvious. The slight gleam in their eyes. The way they stayed in the shadows, and why they were wearing jackets even though it was extremely hot. Their slightly sharp incisors. "I see."
"Yep." George answered cheerfully. "Come in." He said, ushering the three of them into one of the structures in their camp, a wooden hut mostly used for visitors of other clans.
"I'll go get us some drinks." George said, walking out of the room.
It was very awkward. Aaron cleared his throat. "So, Jefferson, who turned you?"
"Great conversation starter." Jefferson answered, rolling his eyes. "I don't know, some rogue vampire, most likely." Aaron nodded, face flushing.
He looked towards Hamilton, who in turn looked towards Jefferson. "Go ahead." Jefferson said, though his face was slight apologetic.
"Thomas bit me." Hamilton said simply.
Aaron's eyebrows shot up. "Why?" Hamilton then launched into the full story, only stopping to breathe. Aaron watched in fascination. How could a person talk so much?
"Mhm." Thomas nodded every now and then. When Hamilton was finished, he stood, stretching his arms a bit. "Well, that was certainly—-Ah!" He hissed clutching his hand to his chest. Aaron stood quickly, closing the window that they had forgotten to close.
Hamilton rushed to Thomas side, partly concerned, partly curious. "D'you need some bandages or anything?" Aaron asked.
"No. It will heal soon." Thomas waved a hand dismissively, though he made sure to sit down closer to the shadows.
Hamilton soon followed suit. "What does it feel like?" He asked.
"Like I've been burnt." Jefferson answered, rolling his eyes.
"You haven't been burnt before?" Aaron said in surprise, looking at Hamilton.
"No." Was the response. "Thomas here made sure I didn't even try to be."
"I had to, or else you would be dead by now." Thomas replied.
Hamilton rolled his eyes, poring. "How about you, Burr? How's you get turned?"
"I wasn't." He answered. "I was born this way."
"Oh." Hamilton answered. "Cool!"
"What's it like being a werewolf?" Alex asked. Jefferson rolled his eyes.
"Er...." Aaron struggled to answer. "You see......I can't exactly describe it."
The rest of the afternoon went pretty much like this, with Alex asking question, Thomas sighing and sometimes asking questions of his own, and Aaron trying to answer them to the best of his capabilities. Aaron found that he actually enjoyed it. Talking to kids his age and being able to relate was almost....freeing. They settled into an easy atmosphere, talking till it was dark.
George never came back with those drinks.
Aaron would later find George reading a book in his office, giving him a sly look and asking how it went.

# 3
WHAT'D I MISS?
"What the actual heck, Thomas." James gawked, staring up at Thomas in all his 5'4 glory. He was very short for an elf. "I've been gone for only a month and somehow, you turned Hamilton into a vampire, befriend the leader of the most powerful werewolf clan and all members of it. In a month. A month, Thomas."
Thomas shrugged. "I've been busy, Jemmy."
James groaned. Honest-to-goodness groaned. "You are going to be the death of me, if my immune system doesn't kill me first."
"Don't worry Jemmy, it's not as bad as it seems." Thomas said, trying to calm the shorter man. "And Washington's pretty neat."
"That doesn't change the fact that he's a leader the the most powerful werewolf clan. And you turned Hamilton into a vampire. I'm pretty sure there are laws against that."
"Well no vampire police has come to arrest me yet." Thomas said placatingly. "And keep it down, will you? My parents are still asleep. God knows why you decided to visit as midnight."
They were currently in Thomas' room, and James had to admit that he did seem happier.
James sighed. "I need your help."
Thomas perked up. "Yes? I need to do something or I will die of boredom. What do you need?"
"I need you to let someone stay here. Please."
"Who? And why does he have to stay here?" James mentally prepared himself.
"I'll tell you when you meet him. But, could he? At least until I find him a place to stay?"
"Sure." Thomas said. "Where is he?"
"Wait here."
James crept out of the room and to the living room, mindful of avoiding the furniture scattered everywhere. He approached the figure standing the terrace, wistfully staring at the sky.
"Come on." James said gently, laying a hand on his arm.
He nodded and James led him to the room where Thomas was waiting.
"Thomas, this is John. John this is Thomas." James said.
"Hello." John said, and James may have jumped. This was the first word John had said all day since he had awoke. He turned to Thomas whose jaws were slack, staring at—-oh right.
John had huge feathery wings unfurling from his back, and he fluttered them uncomfortably. James had forgotten about those.
James elbowed Thomas and he let out a hiss of pain before remembering his manners. "Hello." Thomas greeted, then blurted out what was on his mind before thinking. "You have wings."
It could have been a trick of light, but James could have sworn he saw John roll his eyes. "Yes, I do."
"But, how?" Thomas gestured wildly, hands flailing. James resisted the urge to laugh.
"I was an angel." John said, eyes shifting from Thomas to the window, where a view of the beautiful night sky.
"Was?" James wanted to tackle Thomas and zip up his mouth. You do not just ask these things!
John said nothing, and James could see a hint of tears glistening in his eyes.
Thankfully, Thomas did also. "Never mind, sorry for asking." He said apologetically. "Would you like a change of clothes?" He asked, eyeing John's rumpled and torn clothes.
John nodded.
Thomas went off to find clothes, leaving James and John in the room alone.
"So......."
"He seems nice." John said. Can angels be sarcastic? James wondered.
"Thomas is a great guy once you get to really know him." He said.
John nodded, then he winced, glancing back at his wings. James was frozen in shock. The tips of the wings have turned grey, and seems to spreading.
"Are you.....?" James asked.
"It's a sign. I'm officially banished." John looked away. "I'm now one of the Fallen."
James frowned but said no more. They settled into a sort of heavy silence as they waited for Thomas.
"Hey guys, I'm back. Sorry, most of the clean clothes were in the laundry." Thomas greeted, walking in. James watched as his eyes flickered to John's wings and felt thankful that Thomas kept quiet.
"Here, try this on. You can cut hole for your wings, I think." Thomas said, holding a navy blue shirt. He moved to hand it over.
John stepped back. "Don't touch me."
Thomas stood still, hurt flashing in his eyes. "Sorry."
"No, I mean—" John sighed. "Vampires can't touch angels, it'll burn them, like the sun but stronger. I may be banished, but it'll take a few days for it to wear off. I can't risk it."
"Oh." Thomas says. He turned to James. "Could you give to him?"
James nodded, taking the shirt and handing it to John. The angel accepted it with a muttered thanks and headed to the bathroom.
He came back out looking positively cleaner.
"Where's your old clothes?" James asked.
"I burned them. Angel clothes don't last long on the earth. It would have eventually disintegrate. There was a lighter near the toilet." John replied.
"Ah." James nodded. He was too tired for this. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
He walked out, his last glimpse of the two being John staring at the television with some akin to fascination and Thomas doubling over in laughter.

-•-

"Alright, first things first, we need to hide those wings." James said. "If you are to go to school, you cannot parade around wings large protruding from your back. They would call Area 51."
"What is Area 51?" John cocked his head. "And I cannot simply hide my wings."
"Area 51 is where they capture aliens." Thomas replied. "And Jemmy, don't you know any warlocks who can magical his wings to become invisible?"
"I know a guy. But he's on the other side of the world, it'll take a week for him to arrive." James frowned. "And you can't simply magic something invisible, that takes a lot of power."
"You better think of something." Thomas shrugged. "My parents are getting suspicious as to why my friend only stays in the room."
"I can leave." John offered.
"Where would you stay?" James asked, cogs turning. "Wait.......can werewolves touch angels?"
"Technically, yes. The blood strain of a werewolf comes from a weaker demon," John answered. "and the one bitten is only half affected, they are still human. No offence, Thomas."
"None taken." Thomas said lightly. "Maybe he could stay at Washington's?"
"Maybe." James nodded. "Would Washington mind?"
"Nah." Thomas shook his head. "Though, we'll have to make sure."
"How will we get there without attracting attention?"
"Good question."
-•-
Later two men, in post men uniforms, emerged from the house carrying a large cardboard box with a few holes drilled on the side.
People have given a few glances but, of course, none had suspected that a 5'11 feet tall angel was in it.
"He's really heavy." James groaned. "How long till we're there?"
"He's really not that heavy, Jemmy." Thomas laughed. "It's a twenty minute walked."
"Well, for one, you are over ten inches taller than me," James huffed. "And two, stop carrying it with only one hand, dammit."
"Fine." Thomas acquiesced. James felt the load lighten considerably. "Thanks you."
"If you don't mind me asking, why is this necessary?" A muffled voice sounded.
"Because, we don't have a way of hiding you—-" Thomas answered.
James opened his mouth to interrupt, "—-that was not dressing up in superhero costumes. I refuse to sacrifice my dignity for that."
James huffed.
"Why can I not just fly? Until the mark is finished, I cannot fly longs distances without wearing out, but I am still able to fly a few miles." James could hear the indignation in John's voice, along with wounded pride.
"Because, one, we don't want you to strain yourself and get hurt, and two, someone might see you and shoot you or something." Thomas answered.
"Yeah." James nodded. "Thomas, are we there yet?"
"Close." Thomas replied.
"Where are we going?" John asked after a few moments of silence.
"A friend's place, you'll be safer there." James said. "Of course, after they get over their initial shock of seeing a live angel. Will Hamilton be there?"
Thomas scoffed. "When is he ever not? He practically lives there, Washington treats him like a son, and Burr is almost like a brother to him."
"Are you jealous?" John asked, no hint of mockery or teasing, just an innocent question.
"What? No." Thomas huffed. "Why would I be jealous?"
"You are." John said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Thomas blushed, looking away. James smirked. "Never lie to an angel."
"Whatever."
"We're here." Thomas announced, as they stood before an almost totally camouflaged wooden gate. They gently set the box down and James helped John out as Thomas went to knock.
"You okay?" James asked as John awkwardly stepped out, clothes rumpled and hair a mess.
"Yes." He answered, glancing back at his wings sorrowfully. They were now a pale shade of grey, casting shadows beneath the setting sun.
"It'll be fine." James said consolingly, just as Thomas returned with no other than George Washington.
"What is the meaning of this?" Washington frowned, staring at John and looking very intimidating. Then again, everyone looked intimidating to James. It's a matter of height.
"He's an angel."
"Yes, Thomas, I've realised that." Washington said drily "But why is he here? Why not in up there?" He gestured up.
"I fell." John answered.
"You.........fell."
"I fell." John repeated. "I was cast down."
"Ah." Washington nodded sympathetically. "Come in then, no use standing there."
"Washington, we need you to let him stay here." Thomas asked, walking alongside the man. "He's got nowhere else to go."
"Of course he can stay." Washington nodded. "Would he mind sharing a room with Alexander?"
"Who's Alexander?" John piped up from behind.
"Alexander Hamilton. You'll love him. He's a big d—"
"Thomas!" James interrupted scoldingly. "Hamilton is a vampire like Thomas, though from what I heard, he seems pretty nice."
"Is he a touchy person?" John asked. "Because then I might burn him."
"Very." Thomas nods.
John nods. "But, he'll understand why he can't touch me?"
"Sure, but that won't stop him from being curious." Washington chuckled.
"Ah."
Ignoring the whispers around them, they walked up to a wooden house, most likely Washington's house, and entered.
It seemed like any normal house, except the windows were tinted and there were some bottles of blood on the counter. Washington led them to a room at the back of the house. He knocked, "Alexander, are you in there?" He called out.
"Coming!" Was the muffled reply before the door was opened to a disheveled boy. "For the last time, sir, it's Alex, please."
"Hello Thomas, George." He greeted. "Hello, two strangers I have never met before."
"Ah yes, I'll leave you to get to know each other." Washington grinned, walking out and whistling a tune.
"Well, come in." Alexander said, pushing the door wider. Thomas waltzed in like he owned the place, James followed in with a muttered thanks, and John as well, being careful to avoid Alex.
"I'm James Madison." James held out a hand. "I'm an elf."
"Alexander Hamilton, but please call me Alex. I'm a vampire, but you probably already knew that." Alex grinned.
"Who are you?" He turned to John.
"John." The fallen angel replied. "I have no last name, and as you have probably guessed, I am a fallen angel."
"What about Laurens?" Alex said, eyes lighting up.
"What?" James frowned. "Laurens as a last name?"
"He seems like a Laurens." Alex shrugged.
"John Laurens." John said it as if testing how well it sounded. "Very well. Hello Alexander Hamilton, my name is John Laurens."
"Pleased to meet you." Alex replied.
"He's gonna be staying with you for a while, so don't touch him." Thomas drawled, plopping himself on Alex's bed.
"Why can't I?"
"Because I was formerly an angel and it'll burn you. Wait a few days, then it'll wear off."
"Alright." Alex nodded. James saw a gleam in his eyes. Poor John, he's going to be questioned like there's no tomorrow. Thomas snorted, as if realising the same thing.
"I better get going." James said, heading to the door.
"Where are you going?" Thomas asked, standing up and following him.
"I'm going to call our Warlock friend. We're going to see some magic happen."

TAKE A GUESS AS TO WHO THE WARLOCK IS, YOU ONLY HAVE ONE TRY. If you get it, I'll take a drawing request XD might be ugly, but I'll try my best.
(Lower your standards)