A/N: So Godisgood3 pointed out that the previous chapter of this reads like the beginning of a whole new, full-length fic and, I mean...I'm game if you guys are B) it would be very AU - modern, and with less Santa Carla, so I just sort of assumed that nobody would be too interested, but if that's not the case I could totally make it a long-haul thing. Yes? No? Maybe? Let me know! I'd leave these chapters here, and probably rework them a little and start from a while before these take place if I made it a full length thing.

The silence that followed after Anna left could only be described as deafening. Or painfully awkward - that worked too. She wasn't even sure who would be least likely to do harm by breaking it. David looked perfectly willing to do so, perched on an armchair to her left, but it didn't take a genius to know that would be a mistake. Marko sat in the other armchair, while Dwayne and Paul sat at either side of her, opposite the large sofa Jamie occupied by himself. The Lost Boys all lounged as comfortably as they had in the cave, but that was hardly a surprise. She knew that Marko and Dwayne would stay quiet unless given a reason not to be, while Paul was meeting Jamie's gaze evenly, unbothered by the frosty look on her brother's face. In the end, when it became clear that nobody else would, Cat broke the stalemate.

"I'm sorry for turning up like this," she said before nodding in the direction of the door Anna had just closed behind her "...She won't, uh...she won't recognise me or anything, will she?"

She looked different to how she had as a mortal - her hair now shorn at her shoulders with quickly fading purple ends. She was also well aware of the grey tinge her face was taking on from a combination of stress and a lack of opportunity to feed over the last few days. If she'd been capable of having a heart attack, she was near-certain that the last few days would have induced one.

Faking their passports had been surprisingly easy - it seemed the boys' talent for inducing hallucinations wasn't limited to turning food into insects - but what hadn't been so easy was trying to time everything to ensure they'd be kept well out of the sunlight. Had it been summer, they'd have probably all burnt to a crisp. The limited daylight that winter offered had been a literal lifesaver in the end. After fleeing Santa Carla, they spent the following day in a storage locker (an old safehouse of David's that was mercifully still there), which was where Cat got the idea to head to Scotland. But it hadn't been smooth sailing from there.

Paranoid that the hunters might be staking out any Californian airports, they'd headed north to Oregon, living on a combination of pure luck and hope each night that they'd find another place to hide out before the sun rose again, until they finally managed to reach an airport. From there, they flew to New York, where the boys finally found some of their old contacts - guys they'd known since the 1920s, no less. Cat mostly kept herself to herself, only half-listening to their reminiscing of escapades from Capone's days, while constantly looking back over her shoulder while. her mind wandered forward. They stayed with them for a couple of days, before finally managing to get a flight to London, and then to Glasgow, where they stole a car and drove to the rural town where Cat had grown up.

After so many days of nothing but go, go, go, sitting still on her brother's fancy leather sofa even for ten minutes felt...wrong. Her body was firmly in fight or flight, ready for the next attack or the next moment they'd need to make a break for it. She could hardly believe they'd even survived.

"You better hope she doesn't," Jamie replied and her mouth snapped shut.

Her reaction, however, seemed to defrost him a little.

"She's from Aberdeen. Your face wasn't plastered all over the place up there like it was here."

"And she'll buy the whole 'cousin' story?" David asked doubtfully.

"We're Scottish," Jamie said as though it was a full answer.

Not keen on the idea of building bridges, it seemed. But she could hardly blame him. The first (and only other) time he'd met the boys, things had come to blows within seconds. She could hardly be surprised.

"It's normal for us to go to some party and meet fifty cousins you've never seen before and won't ever see again," Cat supplied, raking a hand through her hair "S'why I said it."

She resolutely bit back the urge to add a petulant "I'm not stupid" onto the end of the statement. It wasn't David's fault that she was feeling on edge, and sniping at each other was possibly the least helpful thing they could do in that moment.

"Why are you here?" Jamie asked again, regarding her with a stern frown.

Something flashed in Dwayne's eyes at his tone, and David's smirk seemed to deepen. Neither seemed like good omens. Paul, at least, seemed to sense her anxiety, and surprised her by taking over.

"It wasn't her idea," he lied with ease, leaning back "Cat didn't wanna bring this to your doorstep, it was us who suggested it."

"Why?" Jamie asked again.

"Because we were just dying to see you," David replied.

"We had to leave Santa Carla," Cat interrupted before things could escalate "Some…well, I don't know if they were hunters or what, but they wanted to kill us-"

"-And hurt us first-" Paul added with a scowl.

"-They found the cave," Cat finished.

Even remembering it had her twitchier than a junkie in sore need of his next fix. Her words succeeded in a way, however, as Jamie lost much of his bluster. Pausing, his mouth snapped shut, and she could practically see the cogs in his brain turning.

"Did they hurt you?" He asked eventually.

"Show him," David said immediately.

Cat sent him a rueful look.

"Show him," he repeated, tone leaving no room for argument.

Knowing if she didn't he'd probably jump to his feet and start pulling at her jacket himself, Cat exhaled sharply through her nose before starting to pull it off. Her stolen scarf soon followed, and with a final annoyed look at their unofficial leader, she tugged the neckline of her plain black v-neck t-shirt to the side.

Wounds from anything geared specifically towards vampires - holy water, silver, and so on - didn't heal like the ordinary wounds they obtained. She couldn't even count the amount of times one of the boys had pulled some kind of stunt that should have left them bruised and scraped up for weeks, only for them to wake up the next evening with not a scratch. These injuries, however, lingered. They didn't look quite as gnarly as they had the night after she'd gotten them, but they still weren't pleasant to look at. Jamie's reaction more than confirmed that.

"What the bloody hell did they do?" he stared at the wound in horror.

Under different circumstances, she might have been smug at the fact that she'd finally broken through the stony mask he'd adopted upon her arrival.

"Silver knives, dipped in holy water," David answered.

The effect was...well it was a lot of things - but it certainly wasn't pretty. The holy water had seared the flesh as the knives cut through it, leaving her wounds appearing as an impressive cross between gashes and acid burns, the edges of the slices appearing almost melted. The boys assured her they would heal without a trace eventually, but while she believed them, it didn't appear that this would happen any time soon. They sported similar wounds themselves - but none were quite as likely to garner any sympathy from her brother.

"Holy water?" Jamie tried to scoff, but his voice was weak as he did so "That's a real thing?"

"Turns out Bram Stoker didn't make that part up," Cat shifted uncomfortably, tugging her shirt back into place "The turning into a bat is bullshit, but the holy water has to be true."

"Go figure," Marko snorted.

"And where are they now? The men who did this?"

Cat's eyes lingered on the way his hands clenched into fists ask he asked, his knuckles turning white. David noticed, too, a pleased glint in his eye. Whatever gap now lay between them, Jamie's protective streak seemed to remain. She wasn't sure whether that made her happy or sad. Giving a wary look toward the door that Anna could walk back through at any moment, she opened her mouth to reply but Paul beat her to it.

"Dead."

At this, her brother blinked in surprise. Had he forgotten who - or rather what - they were? But any worry she had over him judging the morality of their situation vanished when he nodded and gave the closest semblance to a smile he was probably capable of at that moment.

"Good," he said "But that doesn't explain why you're here, then."

"The ones we...put out of their misery weren't alone," said David, his lips thinning into a straight line "They had a cellphone."

Cat still clearly remembered the dread that seeped into every ounce of her being when it rang.

"I think he's dead, man," Marko had snorted as Paul continued to stamp on what remained of the head of one of the hunters.

Paul grunted and stamped again. Cat, however, didn't partake in the mocking of the corpses, too focused on staring at the brutal silver instruments they'd brought in with them, still sprawled across the fountain ledge.

"You okay?"

She jumped as Dwayne spoke at her side, before quickly shaking her head, hugging her arms tightly to her chest "M'fine."

"Stupid motherfuckers," David sneered at the bodies "Probably stumbled across the place and thought they'd hit the fuckin' jackpot. Nobody with half a brain would come to fight vampires at sunse-."

He was interrupted by a high pitched ringing. Cat's heart sank further, now descending from her stomach to her toes. All freezing and looking at each other with equally wary looks, it was David who moved first, plucking the phone from the pocket of the now completely headless body.

The large screen lit up with only a single letter signifying the caller - N. Pressing the large round button at the bottom of the phone, David grunted when nothing happened. They'd never had much use for smartphones, or phones at all, and under lighter circumstances she might have laughed at her brother's frustration. But not tonight. Instead she leaned closer and swiped the green phone icon, as she'd seen countless mortals do over the last couple of years, before tapping the 'speaker' button.

"Hello?" A male voice flooded the cave.

They all looked at each other in turn, asking the same silent question, and all shook their heads when nobody recognised the voice. David glowered at the phone before sighing and giving a sort of non-descript grunt of greeting.

"We're running late - took longer to get the shit than we thought, shouldn't be long now though - they all ready for us?"

Cat could feel her complexion go from just pale to a rather interesting shade of grey, her lips growing numb as any blood drained away from her face. Her mind whirred to decide what the worst part was - "the shit" that whoever this person was had been getting, the fact that there were more of them, or the pure glee in his voice.

"Ron? You there?" The voice came again, this time suspicion creeping into it "...Ronnie, that is you, right?"

David dropped the phone and brought his boot down onto it so hard that she was surprised more than dust remained.

"Son of a bitch," he shook his head, tone flat.

"What do we do?" Cat asked, hating how weak her voice sounded.

This was brand new territory to her, after all. The boys? They were vampiric veterans - seen it all, done it all. Cat, meanwhile, had never been in a fight she didn't know she could win. After years of being at the top of the food-chain, she wasn't thrilled at the idea of that being tested. Not with their lives on the line.

All eyes fell on David then, and she didn't envy him one bit. If he felt the pressure he didn't show it, turning to look at the mouth of the cave, then back to their would-be attackers, then around the cave. It was the closest thing to sadness she'd seen on his face, which was exactly why she knew his answer before he said it.

"We gotta go," he said.

If Cat could've shed a tear without feeling totally pathetic, she would have. Dwayne also seemed to have been expecting the answer, giving a sigh as he scratched the back of his neck and gave the cave the same look of farewell his brother just had. Marko looked no more pleased by it, but it was Paul who surprised them all by arguing.

"We're running?" He stared at David, speechless "Us? The fuckin' Lost Boys?"

But David was in no mood for a debate.

"We don't know how many of them are on the way, we don't know what they got, we don't know how good they are, or how prepared they are, or how much of a chance we stand."

"They're mortals! We could-."

"If you want your pride to get Cat staked through the chest-," David jabbed a finger in her direction to emphasise his point "-be my guest. I ain't staying,"

Nobody else attempted to argue after that. They abandoned their home within a half hour, and the thought of it still made Cat's chest ache.

Anna returned to the room within a few moments of their tale ending, bearing a tray of piping hot mugs of tea. Tugging at her scarf, Cat double checked that her wounds were covered. Only Cat and Jamie made no move to touch their tea, although Cat still picked up her mug to be polite.

"So? What did I miss?" Anna looked to Jamie for some sort of cue.

For his part, her brother had deflated during their tale, exchanging his scowl for a furrowed brow that was now more thoughtful than angry. Just when she thought he wouldn't answer and opened her mouth to make up some bullshit story, he finally spoke up.

"Ca-atherine," he just caught himself in time, switching to her fake name "And her friends will be staying with us tonight. We have the space, but it'll have to be two to a room."

"Two could have rooms to themselves - Catriona's out of town, her room's empty. She won't mind," Anna suggested with a shrug.

At the name they all perked up like dogs at the sound of a whistle, before freezing and simultaneously exchanging glances to check that they'd heard her right.

"Catriona?" Cat asked.

She was surprised that the mug didn't crack in her grasp, forcibly lightening her grip on it.

"Oh, our daughter," Anna blinked "She's just a few years younger than all of you by the looks of things, maybe you'd get along if you're still in town when she's back."

Cat, however, had stopped listening after the first part. Daughter. She didn't know what stunned her more, that fact that she had a niece, or the fact that said niece had been named after her. Jamie now refused to meet her gaze at all, his posture far too relaxed to be any kind of natural at all. Leaning forward, he picked up his mug.

"We'll play that one by ear," he answered for them.

Cat sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders hunched forward with her elbows on her knees. Paul was silent as he unlaced his boots. It was only when he kicked them off and paused, looking around for something to do next, that she spoke.

"What are you thinking?"

"You're thinking plenty hard enough for the two of us," he replied, ever a lightener of moods "As usual."

His tone was not unkind. Cat snorted.

"You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks," she shrugged off her jacket.

"You taught me a few," he teased, removing his own.

"I thought you weren't that old?" She smirked.

Her prodding earned her a rueful look, and then fell silent again as they slipped into the now familiar routine of securing the windows and the door before undressing and climbing into the large double bed.

"I'm sorry for bringing us here," she sighed into the darkness.

"The fuck you sorry for?"

"I didn't think he'd be happy to see me, but I didn't think he'd be so...so…"

"Such an asshole?"

"Paul."

"He was! Where's the guy who said he'd kill me if I hurt you?"

"That was a long time ago."

"Family's family."

Few of the boys had strong ties to their families as mortals, and none had any at all by the time they were turned. However, biology meant little in their definition of the word, and they still had a strong sense of what it should mean.

"We needed a place far away to stay, you got us one. We ain't gonna complain about the lack of room service while we're here. Better than racing from motel to motel, the dawn chasing after our asses."

"Well, there's none of that in Scotland."

Her fingertips trailed from the elbow of the arm that wrapped around her middle, down towards his wrist, carefully avoiding the nasty slash that lay across his forearm.

"Does it hurt?"

"Do yours?"

It was something neither of them wanted to relive. The wounds seemed to burn and itch worse and worse the more she dwelled on them. Hopefully a good sleep would heal them, but she didn't want to rely on hope. Not after the week she'd had. She had no prior experience with holy water burns, and she'd hoped to never have any at all. Their knives had been silver, too - David had to put his gloves on before he hurled them off the cliff prior to fleeing.

"We were lucky," she sighed eventually, shifting and ignoring the way the injuries seemed to tighten as she did.

"They were stupid," Paul countered "If they were smart, they'd've killed us before we even knew what was comin'."

Cat couldn't argue with that. Cruelty seemed to be at the top of their agendia, rather than speed or efficiency. Stupid, indeed - who incited a fight with a goddamn vampire, equal numbers or not? It was the first time she'd truly pondered the mystery of the hunters' identities. On the road she'd been so focused on getting away, and when they had found refuge in New York, they'd been too busy maintaining a carefree facade to discuss it. After all, they couldn't have anybody thinking the Lost Boys were losing their edge. After that, worries about her reunion with Jamie had flooded her mind. This was the first chance she'd have to sit and ponder without very real, visceral fear seeping in.

"It had to be personal," she spoke the realisation as it entered her mind "It wasn't just an execution or even an extermination - it was punishment, then death."

"Revenge?" He considered it "Makes sense. We've pissed off enough people. But who? Those little Frog bitches? Emerson?"

"Are they that bent on retaliation? The Emersons won-"

Paul huffed at that.

"They got what they wanted," she amended "In the end. And the Frogs know what we can do - s'the only thing that held them back for so long. If it was them, they'd do it fast, the second they got a chance. These guys were getting ready to play a long game, judging by the...luggage they brought."

Said luggage had comprised of a series of wicked looking silver implements that could only be described as instruments of torture. Even the memory of them, glinting on the fountain ledge as she and Paul were dragged from their bed, had her cringing.

"So we drained someone they knew," Paul concluded.

"They can't have been complete professionals. If they'd had experience with vampires, we wouldn't have had a chance to fight back."

"They underestimated us," he agreed "Angry and stupid. And dead - doesn't make for a terrifying enemy."

"Not all of them are dead," she said "They made a mistake. What if we make one too?"

"We won't."

Cat fought the urge to argue. It would fix nothing, and whether he really believed that or not, he sounded confident enough. Disagreeing or pushing her point would serve only to stress the both of them out. They'd had quite enough of that already.

"We'll all talk about it when we wake up tomorrow," he read the worry in her expression easily "Then we'll think about our next step. But for now, we've got a safe place to spend the day, and an actual bed to sleep in that we don't need to share with the guys. The way I see it, best position we've been in all week."

At his words, Cat forced the last of the tension from her body. She often found it funny that they were bonded in this way, seeing as how their minds worked in two very different ways. Her mind always jumped forward of its own accord - a week, a month, or a year from now. Hell, a decade, a century. Always worrying about what would come next, what disaster might strike, and how they might preempt it. Paul, meanwhile, lived in the moment. Perhaps more-so than any of his brothers. She could probably learn a thing or two for him. The only alternative was to worry herself sick.

And how often had she done that? Dreading the day that they would have to abandon the only home she'd known with the boys, and try to find somewhere just as fitting. They were immortal. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and she spent much time feeling sick at the thought. Well, now it had finally happened. But the thought was strangely anticlimactic. Of course she mourned the loss of the cave and the sanctuary they'd found there, but they were all still alive. The worst case scenario had come to fruition, and they'd survived it relatively unscathed. Still, however, she resisted the urge to wonder what was the worst that could happen now. That seemed to just be inviting fate to fuck them up.

A/N: There will be a third part. Oh, and these stories take place independently of We Own the Night, which is why Tara won't be making an appearance in these shorter stories. I should've mentioned that before, sorry!