Hahaha. Nearly a whole year? Sorry about that. How to explain... I guess I could blame school. It's been a crazy and emotional year. Disputes, committee meetings, organising forms, teaching myself a foreign language, exams, functions. Not to mention a huge inspirational slump mid-yearish. (If anyone can prove the relation between not creatively writing and drops in marks please send me your research. I'd love to hear about it) Anyway, in light of reader comments I realised that I started this story so I sure as hell better finish it. I have to get my head around the fact that this copy will not be perfect and I just have to write the thing. Editing happens after the initial story is complete. Enough rambling. It's late here (and even later in my home town). Time to see what comes next.

. . .

Rose POV

The next morning we were all required again before the Assembly. I was questioned but there wasn't much to say. I relayed Phoenix's and Cameron's wounds, recounted my part of the stories connected to them and answered a few related questions. Thankfully no questions concerning Alec were asked. As far as the Assembly knew Cam had been attended to by Griffin and me which was partially true as we'd been stitching her up before Alec had gotten involved. Mum hadn't even been there when I'd recounted the story and I guess Dad hadn't told her and he was still by Griffin's bedside. It was over quickly and we were informed that a plane had been organised to take us out of New York the next day. I was however overwhelmed with a sense that the Assembly perhaps weren't dealing with things as competently as they should have been. In fact, all my dealings with them had so far been very rushed and hardly thought through. They seemed to be distracted by something else.

As we trooped out of the Assembly Chamber, Dean came up beside me and made as if to talk. In response I ignored him, instead grabbing a confused Cameron by the wrist and dragging her hurriedly to our room to pack. Yeah. Real mature but it was an instinctive reaction.

    "What was that all about?" my friend questioned as I slammed the door shut. I flung myself onto my bed and buried my head in the pillow.

    "Nothing," I groaned hoping, in vain, that she'd just let it drop. No such luck. I felt the bed dip a little as Cam threw her tiny frame onto the bed next to me. I felt a thin finger slowly make an indent in my cheek. She lay there, still poking me, whilst she whispered.

    "Spill it."

. . .

    "So you caught Dean and Alec on the roof," Cam revised, "And Dean had knocked Alec unconscious and was hitting him even then? And he was bleeding?" I nodded.

    "Badly."

    "To be honest," my friend spat in disbelief, "that's disgusting. I've only really known him a couple of days but I never would have thought he'd behave like that! And he didn't even give you a reason why!" I rolled my eyes and nodded again.

    "Tell me about it," I grumbled, "I've known him for eight years and the only person I've ever seen him hit was his sparing buddy. To see him like that . . . I realise just how little I really know him. Turns out he's not the gentleman I thought he was but a dirty, disrespectable, honourless, imbecilic, punch-happy, moronic asswipe of a jerk." Suddenly, the room had that really nasty sort of awkward silence.

    "Rose," Cam butted in quietly, "I don't know if now is really a good time but I think you should know."

    "Know what?" I fired my face crinkling in confusion. To quote an excellent franchise: 'I have a bad feeling about this'.

    "When I first met Dean," she replied setting the scene, "As in after the ... accident. When we officially met in my bedroom. Gee that sounds dodgy. Anyway, I got an info smack. You know how it is now." I nodded encouraging her on. My friend cleared her throat. "Well. I kinda discovered that he kinda . . . well . . . adulates you." I stared at her.

    "Adulates me?" I questioned not processing it. Why did I have to be friends with the person whose parents were both authors? "Adulates me?" Cam nodded cringing.

    "Loves you," she offered. And I swear my jaw hit the floor.

Dean POV

    "I've known him for eight years and the only person I've ever seen him hit was his sparing buddy," Rose spat, "To see him like that . . . I realise just how little I really know him. Turns out he's not the gentleman I thought he was but a dirty, disrespectable, honourless, imbecilic, punch-happy, moronic asswipe of a jerk." Every word was a knife in my chest. I rested my head against the door sighing quietly in frustration, wanting to burst in there and explain myself. I wanted to crawl into her arms and tell her I was sorry, to lie in her embrace as she told me it was all okay. I wanted her to say she loved me but she didn't feel that towards me, did she?

    "Rose," Cam butted in quietly, "I don't know if now is really a good time but I think you should know." No, I thought desperately, don't say it. Please don't say it. I covered my ears but curiousity won out.

    "He kind of . . . well . . . adulates you," her friend explained hiding what she meant behind a curtain of words. Just leave it there.

    "Adulates me?" Rose repeated, "Adulates me?" Don't explain. Oh please please don't explain.

    "Loves you," Cam clarified. Suddenly I felt very cold. I heard Rose choke on what her friend had said. Was it really that surprising that I was head-over-heals for her? I mean, everything about her is so damn alluring, sexy, the way she is ridiculously loyal and does exactly what she says she will. Her naivety makes you want to laugh but her strength of will and character makes up for it all. She's attractive inside and out. She's magnetic. And that sound, that choke of disbelief, killed me. Did she not remember that kiss? Maybe that's what she expected. I was a guy. In her mind maybe I was supposed to lock lips with her at some stage.

Quickly I stepped away from the door and made a bee-line for my own room. Once alone I locked the door, threw off my grey tee and curled up on the bed. My chest ached with longing. I felt like such an idiot. I'd promised myself years ago I'd never break again like I had with my previous girlfriend, Hayley. We'd been serious and ending our relationship had completely undone me. I knew if it happened again I'd never be able to come back. Rose wasn't Hayley level, I persuaded my heart, and so I couldn't treat it like it. With no other ground to fall back on I resorted to doing what I did after all my lesser, high school break-ups. Curled up under the blankets, I let the world wash around me ignoring everything but the memories of Rose; the first time I met her looking fragile but none-the-less determined, our weekly training sessions, the mini birthday celebrations we'd had for each other every year, her 17th which for the first time I was actually allowed to attend. I wallowed in my grief, pathetically, childishly. I could tell this was going to last more than a few days. We hadn't even dated so why was I so hung up about it? It was just a kiss, I kept telling myself. Then why did it feel like so much more? Why had her rejection of me seemed a million times worse than any of the times I'd been dumped before? At least I was able to hold back the tears. Maybe I was too hollow for them. God. Thoughts like that are too cliche. I'm not a storybook character. I'm a real man. Get a grip! But I couldn't. Not yet.

It was about ten o'clock when I heard a knock on my door. They tried the handle impatiently to find it locked.

    "Yo Dean, bro," one of my mates, Jacob called, "You know we could just knock the door down right?" I slipped off the bed and turned the lock.

    "Then we'll have to pay for it, doofus," Greg's muffled tone countered as I yanked open the door. Four expectant faces beamed across at me.

    "What do you want?" I questioned, leaning on the doorframe. Jacob, Marcus, Amos and Greg, all grinning like idiots, exchanged a glance.

    "Not what we want," Jacob smirked, "What we got is the question you need to ask, man."

    "A nice little night club and $400 worth of strong drink," Marcus replied pulling out the money, "100 each. How's that sound?" I nodded letting an easy grin tug at my mouth. Maybe this was Hayley level. Maybe I needed a little diversion. "Amos is playing Mum."

    "All for it," I agreed, "Just let me put on a shirt."

. . .

Once we claimed two cabs, it didn't take long to get there. The boys had found a decent Grigori bar where we wouldn't be recognised but was close enough so we could get back in a hurry if the need arose. In the last ten years many all Grigori nightclubs had started up though none were as big as Ascension, the original party palace for our type built inside the Brooklyn Bridge. This place, however, was significantly cheaper. It was mildly crowded; people jammed themselves onto the dancefloor, music and lights blaring. The bar was reasonably free as we headed that way with most customers well into their evenings. After their first drink, Jacob, Marcus and Greg left the bar to dance with a trio of barely clad girls leaving Amos and I sitting on the swivel chairs.

    "You missed a good lesson today," Amos remarked, "Greg took a real beating. He's down to fourth place now. That oaf, Clark, mauled him again." I smiled and toyed with the half-empty tumbler in my hand.

    "No wonder he's hitting it in with the ladies tonight," I laughed, trying to keep the conversation light and away from my absence, "Wounded pride is a terrible thing." Amos copied my noise briefly but kept his eyes trained on me as I took a swig of my drink.

    "Yeah, being defeated by a lesser fighter's pretty bad," he agreed, "but rejection's worse." Caught off guard I nearly choked on the alcohol. For some reason, I hadn't expected him to be so perceptive. "I'm not blind. You were dismissed from the Assembly early this morning but weren't at classes in the afternoon." I stared at him trying to gather some words to stop him. To tell him that what he was thinking was wrong. I didn't need Amos on my back right now. This was something I had to sort through alone. "You were a clown three days ago and then yesterday evening you were a damn robot." My brain had shut down. I couldn't think of a single damn thing to say and it wasn't the alcohol's fault yet.

    "I ... " I finally managed to make some noise, "I was ... busy ... special assignment..."

    "Come on, Dean," Amos shook his head as he stacked the glasses reserved for water, "We both know that's not it. It never is. You got rejected by a girl. I've seen you like this before and it got real messy. Drink it all up now and get over her. Is she really worth ruining your life again?" I sighed and ran both my hands through my hair.

    "Would you believe me if I said yes?" I mumbled. The top glass of his pile teetered for a moment but, just before it could hit the ground, Amos caught it.

    "No," my companion stated, sliding another drink in front of me, "I don't believe anyone has the power to ruin your life. It's yours after all. You own it, don't let her take it." I downed it. Amos leaned in so close to my ear I could smell his toothpaste. Of course he'd brushed his teeth before coming to a nightclub!

    "Getting smashed one night every so often is okay," he reminded me, keeping his voice low, "But try to keep it just every so often, okay?" At that moment the boys returned.

    "Who wants to try some shots?" grinned Greg. All drinkers raised our hands.

    "A round of tequila it is," Jacob declared as he waved down the bartender to order.

    "Drink up boys," ordered Marcus, "There are some mighty fine women doing the shimmy under the staircase. We'll need some liquid courage for those beauties."

In the end we didn't get over to them. The women, I mean. We couldn't. Jacob was the first to go and ended up on his back too drunk to even stand. He was soon followed by Greg and then Marcus who we couldn't understand a word he said. Marcus' Scottish accent had been heightened by the excessive alcohol and what was worse was that he was slurring; an impossible mix to translate. As 'Mum', Amos wasn't drinking but continued to shove liquid down my throat. Slowly the world blurred and everything was bubbly and colourful and good, like a playground. I don't know how many I had but my head was spinning and my brain was on holiday. I was seriously out of it. None of us could even stand; we were all falling over and laughing hysterically. God we'd all have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

. . .

There you have it folks. Hope you enjoyed it. Again many apologies. I'm in a good place now and it's holidays. I'm aiming to post again in the next 12 hours. Tell me what you think about Dean. Poor thing, hey? Things are getting a little complicated. Who was Hayley? Can Dean rise out of this slump? Can Rose forgive Dean? Is their brief romance over? Will they kiss again? Is Alec okay? Who will Rose choose? What's got the Assembly distracted? Will Griffin recover? Who or what's been attacking the people closest to Rose? So many questions! Better keep reading to find out. Look forward to seeing you all again soon. 

~SpanishFox