The Den seemed alien to them all now. An unwelcoming void, filled to the brim with unspoken secrets that hissed in the dark stone corners at the intrusion, and did not want anyone here. It writhed with a static discomfort just shy of being painful.

The smell of smoke and fire clung to their clothes in a stale miasma that refused to leave, and not a single one of them had yet dared to speak. Even Lily was quiet, holding herself close and uncharacteristically guarded. Like she had lost something deeply personal or had been wounded in the most intimate of ways.

They had left the burning Santana Manor before the fire department had made it's way to the scene, with Eve remaining behind to deal with the authorities and cling to the hope that her mistress was not gone. It wasn't the most responsible of behaviours: but given that none of them could come up with a reasonable explanation as to why they were there or what they could possibly find in it's kindling remains, the group had thought it best to leave.

"Alaric..." Rhys spoke, unnervingly shattering the silence that hung thickly with the unsaid words. But he needed him to understand that what happened wasn't his doing. It wasn't his fault. He needed Alaric to know that, despite what he had done, it had only been in what he thought to be his friends best interests. For his safety.

"Don't." Alaric's reply was short and blunt, leaving no room for retort. His look burned into Rhys' core with a fury that unseated every instinct in Rhys' body that now screamed at him to run. But there was no blame here. It was anger and bluster, and at the root of it all: guilt.

Alaric's eyes briefly looked passed over the shoulder of Rhys where they made contact with Lily, and he could not help but let his thoughts wander. Was this the price for the deal he had made? The loss of his friends. The loss for any hope at a happy family?

Fire, as with most creatures, was a true death for Vampires unlucky enough to escape its blaze. There was no way in his mind that his mother or father could have survived such a spontaneous inferno. Was it his fault he wondered. Or had the hunter coincidentally struck again at Willowstreams most powerful resident?

It didn't take long at all for Rhys' perspective to change on the atmosphere of the room. At first he thought it was his fault for the tension, but when he saw the knowing looks his friends seemed to be giving each other; he began to think otherwise.

"Did I miss something?" Rhys reluctantly asked, turning to Marshal who looked away sheepishly.

The feeling of dread that crept in seemed to fill the entire capacity of the small den. Patience, already burned thin from the fire, was rapidly thinning further, and Rhys felt himself begin to vibrate with nerves. No matter the cause for this expectant air, it was undoubtedly set in his mind that it was about him, and he hated it.

That was when the voice came. Causing them all to freeze on the spot at it's suddenness, like deer caught in the headlights. It was quiet at first. Louder than a whisper but audible over the wind that seemed to carry it, serpent-like, through out the den.

It grew louder, and louder, when their heads turned to discover the source; there, standing across the opposite end of the quarry, directly facing into their den: was Micah. He was small at this distance, but they didn't need sharp eyes to see his arms contorted at his sides as his body twitched in an aggressive manner. His eyes rolled back until just the white and veins were visible, his voice carried on the wind as if he was commanding right beside them. Each word caused the Den to shake with stone and dust. Sediment pouring, like a granulated waterfall, from every crack and crevice.

"Spirits of the Earth, I call to thee

Awaken and crush my enemy

Grind the flesh, and crack the bone

Make your embrace their final home

Bury the rot and consume what I see

To this I command and to this so mote it be!"

The Earth quaked at the final words. Grumbled angrily with the roar of colliding rock and tumbling boulder. Causing them all to stumble and lose footing.

Alice shouted a warning before wrenching Rhys by the arm as within an instant: the entrance to the den collapsed on itself, snuffing out the light with it.

The ground settled back to its normalcy within a few minutes. Between some spluttering and coughing; Marshal had somehow managed to find an old camping lantern, thankfully still holding some fuel and undamaged by the collapse save for a singular crack on it's glass shield. He lit it, illuminating the now much smaller, and ruined, den with silvery white light.

Much of what they held dear had been crushed and buried. Two of the cots stuck out at violent angles from the rubble.

He peered through the rapidly settling wisps of dust that swirled and made the air difficult to breathe. Letting out a small sigh of relief when he saw a tangled mess of red hair slowly pushing herself up from beside the coffee table. Carefully stepping over a number of rocks that had rolled in from the entrance to the Den, he hurried over to Lily, gripping her arm to help her up.

"Are you okay?" He asked breathlessly as Lily squinted at the lantern light, opening one eye after the other as she tried to dizzily regain some form of focus.

"Yeah, I think so." She eventually answered, using Marshal as leverage to pull herself up to standing and futilely brushing at her skirt with her hands. Although gave a small triumphant grin when she noticed that Alaric's birthday cake had somehow remain untouched, albeit a little covered in a soft layer of rock dust.

"Is everyone okay?" Marshal shouted into the space, wincing when his voice bounced off the now smaller area and met him louder than he was used to.

Eventually, after a few agonisingly long seconds of Lily clutching to his arm in worry, Alice and Rhys came into view of the lantern. They took a few seconds to gather themselves as they crossed the short distance now littered with small boulders. They luckily seemed to be unharmed if a bit disorientated and covered in dust.

Alice looked up after spluttering a cough with her eyes wide as the almost metallic, familiar, scent wafted passed her nose. Her nostrils flared periodically as she hesitantly took in air, and her head turned towards the large mound of rock where the entrance had once been. Alice hesitated. Wanting to be sure of what she sensed as a knowing chill shuddered up her spine and settled in her chest with a minor panic.

"I smell blood." Alice acknowledged and it was a dreadful moment of eureka when they all silently realised that Alaric was missing.

With a rush of movement they clambered over the remnants of furniture to the larger section of rubble, and it didn't take long for them to find the steadily growing pool of blackened crimson, seeping from the rock bed. A jutting of pale and red-speckled flesh was stark against the slate coloured rock and there was no time for hesitance.

With Alice's preternatural strength, she managed to move the largets of the rocks aside, just enough for Rhys, Lily, and Marshal to hook underneath Alaric's arms and with one heave they managed to pull him free of the rubble.

"Oh my god." Lily whimpered. "Is he?"

"I don't know." Rhys said, his voice breaking slightly at the sight of the broken man that he rested on top of his legs. His legs were quickly seeped in blood as he shuffled his weight to cradle him closer. The once immaculate features now marred with blood and jutting bone. Like porcelain smeared with red wine. It was everywhere, and the stench of what they hoped wasn't death; quickly filled the room. "He doesn't have a heartbeat, and he doesn't breathe. How're we supposed to know?"

"Can't you heal him? If he's alive, he'll heal right?" Marshal asked, wrapping his arms comfortingly around Lily's shoulders and pulling her close to his chest as she trembled. The contact grounding just as much for him as it was for her.

"I don't know! I've never healed this much damage before. I'm not sure that I can..." Rhys argued in defeat, unable to look anywhere but at Alaric's face. The gentle slope of his eyes lids. The jarring slackness to his jaw. All were an immeasurable weight that refused to allow his attention anywhere, not even registering the gentle swabbing of Alice as she ripped her shirt and began to do her best to mop at the blood on Alaric's forehead and face.

"Look!" Alice called, looking down to the slightest twitch of Alaric's finger.

Like a bracing wind that swelled within Rhys' chest: his resolve was renewed. His mind curiously tracked back to Rebecca, and what had happened to her when she had drank his blood. How healthy and vibrant she had been a mere day after looking like a small breeze would snap her in half.

"Lily. Do you have a knife?" Rhys asked looking up once more with determination.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended that you just automatically assume I have a knife on me." Lily remarked, folding her arms across her chest, before dropping them to her sides despondently. "Yeah in my bag."

Lily untangled herself from Marshals comfort and began scrambling around where she had last seen her bag. With hurried assistance from Marshal and Alice, she managed to find it. Slightly buried, she pulled it free. Making a vain attempt at dusting it off; Lily rummaged through and procured her trusty pocket knife, tossing it to Alice who with a quick scan to determine it to be free of damage: handed it to Rhys.

"I'm not sure why cutting him is going to help..." Lily remarked, watching as Rhys flipped the knife open with a snapped.

"I'm not cutting him" Rhys replied, and before anyone could interject: he ran the keen blade along his wrist. Hissing as he did so as the cool metal bit probably deeper than he had intended, but it didn't even take a second before blood pooled to the surface of his skin and began to drip readily down his arm.

He pushed his wrist to Alaric's mouth, but much to his surprise, Alaric's lips mouth didn't open. In fact: whatever strength remained in his body seemed to be spent in turning his head away from it.

"So fucking stupid." Rhys cursed, hooking his free arm around Alaric's head to hold it straight, he looped it in a way that allowed his hand to reach Alaric's chin. Where he pulled it down to open his mouth before pressing the rapidly bleeding wound to it.

This time Alaric's body had no choice to react. His fangs flicked from his jaw and clamped down on to the flesh, causing Rhys to let out a small protest of pain. Alice made to interject but was stopped when Rhys held his hand up. His eyes igniting with the same emerald green light it normally did when engaging his powers.

"I'm okay." He mouthed breathlessly as Alaric drank.

Alaric's flesh knitting rapidly together was the first thing to happen. The joints and bones snapped gruesomely back inside from where they were protruding and loud crunching noises could be heard as they healed. He drank deeply, his tongue flicking over the slit with vigour as it jabbed hungrily to catch every drop. When his eyes would flutter open, they were revealed to be cluoded in the deepest of reds, before being covered once again as they shut. Alaric's strength was the next to return as he reached up to grip Rhys' arm and pull it harder against his mouth, forming a tighter seal over the wound.

It consumed him wholly. This taste. This relief as he felt invigorated from his core outwards, it enveloped him with warmth.

"Alaric." The voices were fuzzy to his ears, although he was sure he could hear someone calling his name. Coaxing him. Perhaps to stop? But why would he? This blood was everything. This was all there was. This blood would keep him strong, and let him survive, and the way it sparked on his tongue sent his entire body into an ecstatic fervour, that shivered down his spine and clawed at his bones with need.

He felt a hand on his back. Gentle. Welcoming, and the heat from the touch sent his mind careening back to just a few hours earlier when he was beneath the sky. Nothing but the stars, the soft prickle of grass at his back, and the wanting touch of all he had ever desired.

The sense memory railed into Alaric, and he removed his fangs. Pushing the arm away at the sudden spike of shame that didn't stop him ravenously darting his tongue outwards to catch the last few drops of rubies that had dotted his lips.

He raked his hands through his hair and over his eyes, attempting to push back the prickle of tears that.

"I'm sorry." He croaked, hoping that the light of the lantern would fail and that all that would be left is the darkness. He could hide in the dark. Use it as a shield, and then none of them could look upon the one that had failed them so greatly. "I am so, very, sorry."

Guilt racked his body, even when he felt the arms of his friends, Rhys included, encase his trembling form.

They held each other in this dark space for what felt like the longest time. They cried together, and even though exhaustion battered them all, none of them let go.

One by one they pulled each other together and up to standing.

"Fuck me, we're in a bit of a mess this time aren't we?" Marshal cursed, errantly kicking a stone to the side, and refusing to show that the gesture hurt his foot quite a bit.

"Something like that." Alice returned, rubbing at her arms. It wasn't cold, but being unable to see away outside had begun to weigh heavily down at her. The pile of rubble seemed like a goliath, a monster that would not let her pass, and she was doing all she could not to let the panic set it.

"How're we gonna get out?" Lily asked, leaning on the back of one of the less damaged couches. Already claiming that if they were gonna sleep here, this is where she would sleep.

"I have no idea. But I don't think we can rely on emergency services to dig us out of this one. Not if Micah's involved." Rhys answered

"At least he'll be out of it for a while... Hopefully long enough for me to rip his fucking heart out." Alice snarled irritably.

"What do you mean?"

"I've done some reading through Yasmine's books. What he did, what he managed to do: it would've taken a lot. From what I can gather from her notes: Magic isn't something from nothing. The stronger, the more practised you are, the less you need to be able to do something. But according to Yasmine, Micah is better at illusions and charms. Tricks. This would've taken a lot out him."

"Yasmine wrote about Micah?" Said Alaric

"She wrote about us all..."

Before the poignant silence of what else they have lost could consume them in yet another bout of crying, Marshal let out a loud sigh as he furrowed his eye brows in thought.

"I don't get how he managed to find us. Now, not only in all the middle of this hunter business, but also after all this time? I hate to say it, but we have all grown up together. Not once has he been here." He asked, namely to keep the groups thoughts in focus, but also because he genuinely wanted to know.

The mutterings of the group seemed to fade into the background as realisation struck Rhys like a hammer to the chest. It gripped tightly at his throat that made swallowing the lump painful. Air suddenly came in short supply as the memory of the party a few nights back filled his mind with vicious teeth.

The guilt railed against him so violently, that when the words came they threatened to wrench his heart and lungs from his mouth on their exit:

"It was me."

A/N: Alrighty folks, another chapter for your viewing pleasure. ALOT happened in this chapter, so feel free to let me know what your thoughts are on it all. Do I over explain/embellish things when I write? It's something that's been bothering me about my writing style as of light and I'm curious as to what you guys think. Like, am I not leaving enough room for the reader to make the connection on their own and am just essentially hand feeding everything? Let me know!

As always: Thanks for reading ^-^