TODAY WAS TIRING, to say the least. Sleeping is difficult. For many reasons, one of which is that the house is full of heartbeats. Reid likes it a lot, but it's distracting.

The other reasons he's lying awake in his bed are flashing through his mind on repeat. They got attacked at a Pancake Express. He faced his uncle. He stole a spitfire with beautiful green eyes and enchanting red hair that reminds him of Kenneth's lovely bursting flame. He let Lucas whip him bloody. The Bureau came to question them, and that was utter chaos.

Then, Kenneth. 

The man is the real reason he's not able to shut his eyes and drift off. They'd talked in the bathroom. Not like they normally do with jokes and pinches, this was a real conversation about feelings and what he wants. He doesn't know. He's confused, Kenneth had said. He knows that he is, but he doesn't know how to become less confused.

Yeah, he's really confused!

He feels like what happened in the bathroom was a strange dream—Kenneth biting him, wanting his blood. Every time he thinks about Kenneth's blunt teeth breaking his skin and being held by his strong arms so tight it hurt, there's a flutter in his stomach that he doesn't understand, or wants to understand, because it's weird.

Pointedly not thinking about the weirdness, Reid tries to tap into that mushy place he'd been when he'd opened up and contemplate this confusion rationally.

Lucas isn't a bad guy. Reid has said it, and he meant it. He's been increasingly distracted by the man now that they've been in close proximity for more than a few hours. Lucas is, admittedly, intimidating when he's groping and holding down with careless hands.

But it's the way Lucas entices him that makes him wary.

Not like Rowan with her soft skin and bright smile. She's a stranger, but Reid thinks if soulmates are real, he's found his. She makes him feel human, while Lucas makes him feel like a vampire, hungry and teetering on the edge of something dark.

Can't he have them both?

He knows that it would be selfish not to choose, but that doesn't mean he doesn't fantasize about that perfect scenario. He would give his humanity to Rowan's soft, pink lips, loving her gently and patiently as she deserves. Then, he'd give Lucas the darker aspects he tries to smother, and they would love fiercely and consuming. 

He likes that dream.

With a sinking heart, he realizes he's missing his mother terribly. The melancholy feeling settles to blanket him as he stares up at the white ceiling cast in dancing shadows from the slightly open drapery of the window over his bed.

His mother would tell him what to do. Show him how to follow his heart. He thinks she would have liked Lucas, but she'd have a long talk with him about his roughness, which held sweetly veiled threats. Rowan, she'd have fallen in love with too. It would be hard not to; the woman is a flame made manifest in a small person who bounces and giggles, delighted with life. 

His mother would have glued Rowan's broken pieces back together with gentle touches and the smile of warmth she did so well.

He wipes his eyes and realizes, belatedly, that he's crying.

He's tossing the sheets off his form before he's thought the motion through. He's careful not to wake Kiernan as he slips from the bed. The vampire is sleeping with a cheek pudged by the pillow that his bent arm has slipped under. Kiernan looks young when his breathing is soft and his face is peaceful with sleep. Reid wonders if his maker is dreaming of heartache as Reid's feelings invade him subconsciously.

Kiernan's furious with Reid but, more so, emotionally distraught. He's hurt that Gabriel sold him off, like a slave to be bartered. The thought has Reid's heart aching because that misplaced trust is miserably saddening.

Kiernan believed that Gabriel would whip him into complacency and whatever else the monster did—he's starting to suspect Kiernan's punishment was much worse than they initially thought, but was still taken off-guard by Gabriel's refusal to protect him. He didn't protest when Reid told him they're sharing a bed, which is telling for just how much he's bothered.

Reid brushes a stray curl off Kiernan's forehead, and the vampire doesn't stir. He has an instinctual urge to bring his mouth to Kiernan's neck, not for blood; Kenneth sated him in that respect, but to give comfort. Not that he knows how slicing into Kiernan with his fangs would help. He doesn't dare. 

He does run his fingers down the curve of the vampire's neck, however, because he's creepy, and this time, Kiernan stirs with a soft grumble.

Kiernan doesn't open his eyes; in their bond, Reid can feel that he's still fast asleep. The vampire mutters something breathy and sleepy that doesn't sound English, but it's too fluently fast for Reid to fully hear what language it could be. He bares his neck a little more.

Reid's breath catches. He retakes his hand quickly. His heart beats rapidly. There's an aching in his fangs to take what's being offered that he resists. 

He nearly whispers, It's me, but suddenly, Kiernan's eyes fly open.

Kiernan's gaze is bleary with sleep. He flinches, his heart beating loudly, and Reid doesn't blame him—the vampire was being stared at creepily. 

Before Reid can whisper sorry, he's smacked in the face. It's not hard; panicked fingers whacking his cheek.

He grasps the wrist that's left a burn on his cheek. "Hey," he whispers warily, noticing the distant look in Kiernan's fearful eyes. "Kiernan."

Then he's having to hold his own against a half-asleep vampire, kneeing him and scratching his neck painfully. He sucks air through his teeth.

He manages to seize both of Kiernan's flailing wrists, rise onto his knees, and pin them against the vampire's fast-rising chest. The only reason he can is because his maker's not putting up much of a fight—pitiful.

He nearly chokes on Kiernan's fear. He's terrified.

"I'm sorry," Reid whispers. "Calm down." He gentles his hold. The fingers in his grasp flex, white-knuckle, and then fall limp. "Look at me." He doesn't know what is going on; Kiernan's making wounded, panicked noises from his heaving chest. Reid wants it to stop. "It's me."

Those two words work like a switch of rationality.

Kiernan's breathing shallows, and gradually his gaze sharpens with clarity. He takes in his predicament with quick breaths.

The vampire's fingers tighten into fists. He chokes out, "I..." His gaze flickers to Reid's neck, where the scratches burn, then to the hands pinning his arm, and growls, "Get off me."

"Yeah..." Reid huffs and lets go, propping himself against the headboard. He runs his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to yawn, because there's no way he's sleeping now. "Do you, uh, want to talk about it?"

There's a stretch of silence and a complete lack of any movement from the other side of the bed, then the sheets shift slightly, and Kiernan rasps, "No."

Through their bond, Reid can feel that his maker is on the edge. He feels sick from merely grazing the wave of tangible misery.

"I'm sorry."

Kiernan stays still beneath the sheets, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. His fingers encircle one of his wrists in a loose hold. There's no reason to look deeper into the casual gesture, but Reid thinks it's for comfort. He can see that Kiernan's hold is tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

"I should have told you not to touch me while I'm asleep," Kiernan says coldly. He exhales a trembling breath, and his heart is still a drumbeat that fills the quiet of the room with its constant thuds of panic. "It's my mistake."

Reid frowns. "Why did you agree to sleep in my bed then? I toss and turn; I would have touched you at some point."

Kiernan looks at him then, glaring. "I'm pretending that you didn't touch me beyond unrested sleeping. I'd advise you to do the same." His gaze darkens otherworldly, and he whispers with an edge of anger, "I don't want to kill you."

The threat is palpable in the air, radiating a chill that has Reid shuddering beneath its smothering sensation. He gnaws at his lip and can't help feeling scolded. "I wasn't touching—being weird."

Kiernan glares harder. "No?"

He was going to bite him. His intentions were pure, however. "I know that I've been an asshole."

"You were?"

Reid gives the vampire a tired glare. "Now you're being an asshole."

"I am?"

Deciding to ignore the irritating, emotionless retorts because he knows he deserves the treatment, Reid says gently, "You saved me. I shouldn't have treated you..." He doesn't know how to finish that thought. "With Lucas. I wasn't thinking about how you would feel... having to feel that." He's lost his ability to speak and not sound terribly stupid. "I'm sorry."

Kiernan stares at him for a few tense beats, and his heart fills the silence, pounding loudly. How he keeps his cold demeanor when they both know he's panicking is a wonder. He finally breaks his silence to whisper shakily, "You must control yourself."

Reid nods sadly. "I'm trying."

That seems to placate the vampire because his gaze gradually returns, no longer swallowed by angry blackness. "What were you doing, then?"

"Honestly? I was thinking about biting you. Not in a weird way." The words fall from his mouth, and he nearly laughs because biting someone while they're sleeping is the definition of weird.

Kiernan snorts, looking away. "I would have killed you."

Reid smiles curiously. He can feel that's a lie. He doesn't know how to wade through what that might mean. Does Kiernan want him to bite him? Or is he lying, and Kiernan wouldn't kill him if he had tried?

He's not going to get answers from the living mannequin lying stiff in his bed, so instead, Reid whispers softly, "Do you freak out like that a lot?"

"No." He's lying again.

Reid sighs and snatches his phone from the nightstand beside Kiernan's slick device that's charging. He bypasses the lock, swipes through his contacts, and presses call. It's late, but there's a slim chance he's awake.

He pretends to not feel Kiernan staring up at him with bated breath.

The phone picks up on the second ring. "Kid."

"Hey. Why are you awake? It's like one in the morning."

There's a soft laugh, and then Axel says tiredly, "I have a wife who's six months pregnant. She doesn't sleep. I don't sleep."

From the background, Reid can hear a woman shouting in a language he doesn't understand—only that she's furious.

There's a rustle, and then Axel moves the phone away from his ear, trying to placate her with soft apologies. He heard Kiernan's name in her rant. Something crashes loudly.

He looks down, and Kiernan's gaze is miserable, and his breathing is still quick enough to be worrying. But there's a faint smile ghosting his lips. Reid's heart warms at the sight.

When Reid offers the phone with an encouraging smile, Kiernan shakes his head hastily, and his expression shifts back to practiced apathy, all warmth snuffed.

Reid frowns, his stomach sinking. He places the phone back against his ear, and there's a resounding slam that sounds like a sliding door closing.

There's the sound of leaves rustling in a harsh breeze and dripping from what he knows to be a water feature in Axel's yard. He thinks anyway; he hasn't been to the vampire's home in years. He remembers bits and pieces, brown bricks, and a homey atmosphere.

There's soft rustling, and then Axel asks, "How is he?"

"He's right here."

A click. "Give him the phone."

Reid looks at the closed bedroom door. "He won't talk to you. He's being a good dog."

There's a beat of silence. "Gabriel?"

"Yes."

"Fuck that guy. And kid—"

Reid laughs, delighted. He feels the bed shift, and when he looks, Kiernan's sitting up, his gaze full of worry.

"—quit that dog, shit."

That's a threat. Reid grins. "He sleeps in my bed like one."

"What are you on about? He's listening right now?"

"Yeah, he's beside me." Reid frowns. "Did you know Gabriel cut up his back?"

A long, telling silence, and then Axel replies gruffly, "No."

"Yeah. Flogged him to the edge of death. We had to stitch him up. Well, Kenneth stitched him up, and he bled all over my kitchen again. If we got a black light in here, most of the blood you'd find would be his."

Reid risks glancing at Kiernan, and the anger his maker is radiating has him nearly cowering into the pillows that cushion his lower back. "He's glaring at me right now because he doesn't want you to know that he's been obeying Gabriel's orders for him to not heal.

"He didn't drink blood until a few hours ago. He nearly died when Azrael got the jump on us this morning. He was told not to contact you either, and that's why I'm calling you because he won't; he just woke up and attacked me.

"He'll say he's okay, but he's not. I don't know why he tries to lie to me when he can't. So, um, you have to fix it, okay? Fix him." He doesn't mean to sound so desperate, but he wants Kiernan to return to how he was—scary—and not whoever that pitifully struggling man was that he just had to hold down.

Once his rant is over, Reid waits patiently for a reply, and there's only silence. He can hear someone smoking, the crackle of the burning tip, and the controlled exhales.

Reid asks warily, "Hey, you there?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to say anything?"

"I'm standing here, staring at the lights on that hill, and wondering why I don't drive up there and kill Gabriel."

Kiernan reaches out but doesn't take the phone, fingers hovering.

"I could, you know. He has an hour between three and four in the morning where he's alone in that office. It wouldn't be difficult to calm the guards and get in there without raising suspicion."

Finally, Kiernan snatches the phone. He places it against his ear but doesn't speak; his eyes are wild, and he's breathing quickly. Reid focuses so he can hear Axel on the other end still talking.

"He might suspect it. Probably will, after what he did. Maybe he's doubled his guards." There's a lengthy pause where Axel exhales smoke and then rumbles, "Kiernan. I know it's you."

Kiernan stares distantly at the sheets covering his lap. His fingers flex on the phone.

"Should I? I think I might. Tonight. Splatter that nice desk Gabriel likes so much with—"

"Alexander," Kiernan strains.

"Oh? He speaks. I thought I'd never hear your voice again. I got real sad for a minute there."

Reid smiles faintly; the affection in Axel's teasing voice is clear even through the phone.

"I heard you've been with the kid. I drove by your place and saw you hadn't returned. I knew something was up when you didn't answer your phone."

Reid has a pang of guilt, knowing he'd left Axel to worry because he'd taken Kiernan's phone.

"Thought you were going to a meeting with Gabriel last night? You know, to resolve your differences. Didn't go that way, huh?"

Kiernan covers his eyes with a palm, and his nostrils flare. "No, it didn't."

"Tricks you into going up there without any backup. He's a fucking—"

"Quiet."

"Why? He might be listening? Probably. And if he is, he'll hear me call him a tyrant. Gabriel can't do shit. Do you know why? Because he's only as powerful as you allow him to be. Fawnhill doesn't run on one man's ego. He needs you.

"You have Gia and her guys. And others that'll back you. He needs me, his head of security, because I know every code and every key card. I have fucking blackmail for miles. He can't afford to get rid of us. Don't let him win. Not you."

Reid can feel the despair weighing on his maker slowly lifting.

"I haven't," Kiernan rasps, pained. He keeps his eyes covered. "I...talk to me."

"Sure, yeah... Crystal's pissed at you. Says you owe her money or something. I can't understand her when she gets in that mood, screaming and shit. You've got to get back here and translate."

Kiernan's heart begins to calm. He drops his hand, and his eyes hold a gentle weariness. "I don't owe her anything. She said you don't give her access to money. I told her I'd take care of it. Nothing more."

"Fuc—she's got a problem. Spending like the apocalypse is coming. I'm not keeping her prisoner or whatever. Why does she word it like that?"

"Because that's what you've done. You can't take away her money, Alexander. Give her access to the second account. And her own card. She can spend whatever she wishes; it's covered by Gabriel." Kiernan frowns. "He may question why I'm buying an abundance of baby items."

"Yeah. I'll tell her." Axel laughs. "She'll stop threatening to slit your throat."

Kiernan snorts fondly before lying down, head cushioned by pillows, and holds the phone against his ear. "A moment ago, she was shouting that you're a bastard who can't take out the trash on time. Much more colorfully, mind you."

His maker gives him a curious look when he rises from the bed, but Kiernan's attention is diverted a moment later by Axel making excuses for messing up garbage pickup due to a recent holiday. Apparently, his wife isn't pleased.

They continue to talk about menial things as Reid takes his sweater that was draped over the footboard and slips it over his shoulders. It's obvious Axel is keeping the conversation light. Kiernan is trying to hide the sparks of happiness he has when Axel speaks or laughs, but he can't even with his practiced emotionless expression. Not from their bond.

Reid smiles to himself, and with soft creaks of his bare feet against the planks of the floor, he's out the bedroom door.

The television is on at a low volume. It's, for a moment, extremely jarring because Kenneth never broods by watching late-night programs; Reid is the one who would plop himself on the couch and end up falling asleep there, drooling.

Peeking around the parlour's door frame, there's a creak of his shifting weight that has Rowan's green eyes looking at him sharply, and his lips rise into a tentative smile. She's afraid he can smell it as a spicy perfume.

"Oh," Rowan mutters, sitting up from where she was slouched against the arm of the couch with a cushion propped against her lower back. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep, and I..." She trails off, smiling, and there's affection there that beckons Reid forward, pulled along an invisible string to be closer to the flame that is this nutty woman haunting his daydreams.

"I couldn't sleep either," Reid admits softly. He could take the armchair politely, but he wants to be near her, even if it's by sitting on the far end of the couch with a palm resting on the middle cushion, fingers splaying to risk as much nearness as he can without being completely obvious.

Rowan shifts to sit straighter and bends her knee, drawing her leg under her. She has the television remote in hand and gives him a smile that hastens his heart and makes pleasant nerves flutter alight in his stomach. "Have anything you don't like?"

"Horror."

"I love horror."

"Me too," Reid says coolly. "We should probably get married; we have so much in common."

Rowan bites at her bottom lip, sucking the pink skin there. She's holding back a giggle. "What day?"

"What day?"

"Are we getting married?"

"Oh..." Reid thinks this over pensively. He can't be rash; this is an important day. He looks at the television and the action movie playing at low volume and then decides, "Next weekend."

Rowan giggles. "It's supposed to rain."

"Kissing in the rain can be very romantic."

"Thunder?"

"Romantic."

"Lightening?"

Reid sighs wistfully. "Romantic."

He rests his head on the back of the couch and lulls his gaze at Rowan. Her chest rises with silent laughs, her cheeks are flushed, and he yearns to lay his palm against her skin to feel the roused warmth.

He smiles tiredly. "I'm sorry about tonight. We're supposed to protect you, but we ended up brawling with the Bureau."

"No," Rowan whispers, her green eyes twinkling. "It's amazing. You're amazing. All of you. I'm going to have so many stories to write when this is finished. I feel like a war reporter."

She laughs a little at whatever expression Reid is making while basking in her cuteness. She sets the remote on the coffee table, and it feels like a victory.

"You're so beautiful," Reid declares when her eyes find him again. He wants to shove his fist in his mouth the moment it escapes his dumb lips. Rowan doesn't need someone creeping on her yearningly. She needs peace and gentleness after what she's been through.

With a fast heartbeat, Rowan reaches out, and her soft fingers graze his cheek in a teasing touch. His breath catches. Her tentative touches near his hairline and down the curve of his jaw give him shivers.

Reid holds back from clutching her wandering hand and dragging her closer. He feels subdued entirely by her soft fingertips and wonders why the world doesn't just solve its problems with affectionate touches.

"Will you let me take you on a date?" Reid whispers, "When this is all over, when we're safe, I want to know you—everything about you."

Rowan looks close to tears. "Yeah—yes." Her lips quiver. "Shit, yes."

The kiss takes him by surprise. He's smiling warmly, and then he's being suffocated by lips that hold the taste of mint and are so soft that he's sure that Rowan is a wonderful dream he's concocted to torment his aching heart.

His hands don't know what to do, so they hover, not knowing if he should touch her because he can smell the spice of fear beneath a sweeter scent that has his mouth reciprocating eagerly.

Wow. He can't think of a better word, stupefied.

Her palm settles on his neck, and her fingers slide through his hair. He gathers her in his arms and delights in the soft moan she gives into the kiss when he pulls her against him. He's lost to the delirium that she's causing; there are no dark whispers to make him slip; this is carnal want to make this woman his and never let her free from his hold again.

His hand settles on her hip over the soft fabric of her pajamas. He can feel her tremble, and the smell of her fear rises. He presses a thumb below her lip, a forefinger bent beneath her chin, and pulls away from the kiss—not far, just enough that he can stare into her light-green eyes that hold a glaze of desire but also a sheen of held-back tears.

"It's me."

"I know," Rowan replies with a shaky breath. "Kiss me, please. Make me forget."

Her fingers flex in his hair, and her palm on his neck trembles. She's afraid and trying to prove something; he knows how that feels intimately; his back was left bruised and bleeding for that same spiraling need.

Reid kisses her chastely and pulls back. He smiles fondly at her cute pout, and his thumb teases her enticing bottom lip, which nearly has him forgetting everything and kissing her breathless. "Who's kissing you?"

The sweet flush that rouses her cheeks even redder has his heart bounding. "You are," she whispers, sniffling a little.

Reid hums. "Who am I?"

Rowan licks at her lips, smiling faintly, and whispers lowly, "Reid." His name falling from her pink, kiss-bitten mouth has him groaning softly.

His fingers slide into her hair, grasping gently, and he kisses her deeply. His stomach is aching from how much clenching his abs take on when a curious tongue slips into his mouth.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, "Again."

"Reid," Rowan whimpers.

He kisses her harder and deeper, and she moves to settle on his lap with ragged breaths. He doesn't need to tell her again. She whispers his name in sweet, soft moans every time the spice of fear rises.

If humanity tastes this sweet, he might stay awhile.

They kiss for a long time. Then he shows her the wonders of late-night soap operas while she cuddles against his side, her head resting against his shoulder. It's nice. Really nice.

Reid slips away once Rowan is asleep and curled into a cute ball on the couch beneath a soft blanket. He's touching his lips and smiling dumbly, like a teenager who just had their first crush, as he walks into the kitchen.

Then he sees that the back door is open, left slightly ajar.

His initial pang of fear is short-lived. There are wards surrounding the property, and the smell of tobacco is heavy. There's a heart beating calmly outside on the deck.

Then Reid's hit with a surge of panic and nervousness that has him resting his lower back and settling his palms against the counter.

The couch is situated in such a way that, through the parlour's doorway, someone sitting can be seen by someone in the corridor.

There's only one person he knows who's staying in this house and smokes regularly.

He decides to stop being a coward after a few minutes of floundering in the darkened kitchen and slips out the slightly ajar door to the yard and onto the shadowed deck, that's damp from a night of rain.

Lucas is half-leaning on the deck's wooden railing. He has the hood of his sweater pulled up with dark jeans, and his boots are pulled on lazily. He looks a bit menacing in all that black, smoking with his gaze on the shadowed tree line.

"Hey," Reid greets awkwardly.

"Hey."

Reid could fall into a spiked pit right now, and he'd thank whatever decided that was his end. He moves closer, feigning interest in the trees that Lucas is keeping his gaze locked on intensely. He taps the railing with his fingertips.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

"Was looking for you," Lucas replies gruffly before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Reid's heart hastens despite everything. "Yeah? Why?"

"The agents," Lucas says coldly, cigarette posed against his lips. "Trying to clear our names." He blows smoke through his nose and lips in that mesmerizing way he does so effortlessly. "Won't work, but thanks."

"It could..."

Lucas shrugs. He still hasn't looked at Reid, and it's becoming maddening.

"What you saw—"

"Didn't mean anything?"

"No," Reid replies, wincing. He holds the edge of the railing and rocks a little, his stomach fluttering. "It meant something."

Lucas finally looks at him, and the cold amusement in his eyes is chillier than the evening breeze blowing across the yard. He blows smoke through his nose. "You don't owe me an explanation."

Reid flounders. "Don't I?"

"Nah."