A/N: Thanks to everyone who is raeding and reviewing.

Once Upon A Time

Chapter Six

Gwen unlocked her door, stepped into the room, then flipped the light on, and turned back to face Paul and Dwayne. "There's nowhere else, right?" she asked, as an uneasy feeling formed in her gut. Gwen knew that letting these two in here was a very bad idea; this meager space was her sanctuary while she was in Santa Carla, and permitting the vampires to cross the threshold pretty much gave them carte blanche to come and go as they pleased. Still, at least it wasn't David she was inviting in; that would be really bloody stupid and dangerous.

Dwayne nodded slowly. "Here or our place."

"Crap," she muttered as she rested her head against the wall and hoped for a last minute solution to leap out at her.

"So, may I come in?" Dwayne asked politely as he leant against the door jamb, and looked at her with a touch of concern in his eyes.

"Sure, why the hell not," Gwen grumbled as she moved aside to let him pass.

Paul stepped up to the door, grinning broadly. "What about me?"

She scowled. "I was thinking about making you stand in the door way all night."

"Come on, girl. Hey, you have to let me in; I'm the one with all the weed."

"I think I smoked enough weed to last me a life time just last night," Gwen groused. She knew that she had no choice but to let him in now, but her nerves were still on edge. "Fine, but behave yourself."

He nodded his thanks and made a show of stepping over the thresh hold. "So, this tattoo?"

Gwen dropped the bag of supplies on the night stand and handed the bottle of wine to Dwayne. "There's a corkscrew somewhere in that shit heap they call a kitchenette; see if you can find it. Oh, and don't mangle the cork getting it out; I need it as intact as possible. In fact, try not to pierce it all the way through, as I need to be able to stick the needle in it."

Dwayne looked at her like she was crazy and wandered into the kitchen area, while Paul sprawled out on her rumpled bed. "You get burgled or something?"

"Huh?"

"The mess," he commented as he gestured his hand at the clothes all over the dresser and floor.

"And your place is any better?" she shot back.

"Touché," Dwayne laughed as handed Gwen the cork and took a swig from the bottle of wine.

Gwen forced herself into her work persona and cracked a tight smile. "So Paul, let's get this over with, shall we?"

He grinned back. "Oh yeah."

"Right, I want to use your back; less visible if things fuck up. Just chuck your stuff on the chair."

"You want me to remove my pants too," he leered.

"Not if you want your bollocks rearranging with my boot," she replied cattily before she could stop herself.

"You're just afraid that my amazing body would make you unable to concentrate on the tattoo."

"No, I just have no desire to see what you have below the waist, thanks. I see enough shriveled packages in this job as it is, and I don't want nightmares for the next week, thank you."

Dwayne sniggered at her comeback, shoved a pile of clothes off the other chair and sat down, propping his feet up on the dresser. He eyed the pile of cheap costume jewelry that sat on the dresser with interest, brow scrunching slightly as he took in the crucifix that sat on the top of the heap.

Paul glared at them both, but dutifully slid his jacket off and then followed with his fishnet top.

"You'll have to move; the light's shit in here." Gwen turned on the bedside lamp and patted the top of the bed.

He wiggled over to where Gwen indicated and looked at her expectantly, excitement almost crackling off his body.

She studied his back professionally, shifted the lamp around, and then finally pulled the shade off it. "Daylight would be better, you know," she suggested bravely, a touch of sarcasm edging into her voice.

"Bite me," Paul growled.

Gwen nodded sagely. "Hmm, what a great idea."

"What?"

"Nothing, don't mind me," she replied as she tipped out her equipment. She slid on a pair of gloves, decanted the ink, fixed the needle into the cork, and then studied his back again. "Shift forward, I need to be able to sit behind you. Have you got something for your hair? I need you to tie it back."

Paul shook his head.

Gwen looked to Dwayne. "What about you?"

"Nope," he replied.

"Jacket pocket," she gestured with a nod of her head, and Dwayne retrieved a hot pink scrunchie. He held it aloft between his forefinger and thumb like it was about to bite him, and eyed it suspiciously.

Paul tensed. "Please no, anything but that."

"Sorry, it's the pink scrunchie, or no tattoo; I'm not moving your hair out of my work every five seconds," Gwen responded neutrally. It took all of her self control not to burst out laughing; she did have a simple black hair elastic around her wrist, but she wasn't going to tell Paul that.

He shook his head sadly. "I can't believe I'm going to do this; just don't tell Marko, I'll never hear the end of this."

"You did know that you have to suffer for your art, right?" Gwen joked.

"Shut up," he muttered as Dwayne pinged the hair tie at him, and he begrudgingly fastened his blond locks up in a loose bun. "Happy now?"

"Immensely," she smiled as she climbed onto the bed behind him and settled herself cross legged. "So, what I'm going to do is just put a simple design down, and then see what happens. I need to find out how long this will last, as I understand that you guys will regenerate pretty quickly, right?"

Paul nodded.

"Normally, I'd clean the area with alcohol, but I won't bother tonight, as one, I didn't bring any and I'm not wasting my bottle of vodka on this, and two, I doubt that you'd get any infections anyway."

"That's about right, girl. Though I'll have some vodka if you have some here."

"Not a chance, pal." Gwen dipped the needle in the ink, and put her left hand on his back to stretch the skin a little. "Lean forward a bit for me, will you."

Paul obeyed and when she was satisfied, Gwen began to work.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Dwayne looked over, a puzzled look on his face. "What's that weird noise?"

"What noise?"

"That popping sound."

"You can hear that all the way over there?" she asked, and then shook her head. "Of course, I mean you can fly and tons of other shit, so why not have heightened senses? How silly of me.

Paul sniggered, and Dwayne just smiled.

"Don't mind me, I'm just a dumb mortal," she murmured.

Dwayne ignored her waspish comment. "So what is that noise?"

"It's the sound of the needle. You have to angle it to get the ink in, and it catches skin on the way out, making the popping sound," she explained.

He scrunched his face up in disgust. "Too much information, thanks."

"Aww, the big bad vampire is squeamish," she teased.

Dwayne glared. "Hey! It's not that, just that the sound is…"

"Freaky," Paul offered.

"Yeah," Dwayne agreed. "You mind of I put the telly on so I don't have to listen to it?"

"Yes," Gwen snapped, without looking up from her work. "I need to concentrate. Just stick your fingers in your bloody ears or something."

"Oooh testy," Paul laughed.

Gwen scowled and stabbed the needle deep into his shoulder, causing Paul to flinch as the three small sharp points of steel hit the bone. "And you can just shut the fuck up, mate."

"Jeez, chill will you, girl?" he muttered.

"If I actually make it home, I'm never leaving London ever again," she grumbled angrily to herself.

"You are no fun," Paul stated.

"That's what I said last night," Dwayne commented from the other side of the room.

"No, you guys just have a very warped idea of what fun is," Gwen retorted.

"Duh, we're vampires," Paul laughed.

Gwen smacked him around the head. "Will you sit still? You're worse than a four year old; constantly fidgeting. You got crabs or something?"

Paul frowned and glanced at Dwayne. "Did she just insult me?"

"Yeah, man."

"Couldn't you find a tattooist with better manners?"

Dwayne bit back a grin. "Not at short notice, sorry bro."

"I can hear you, you know," Gwen growled, as she loaded the needle with more ink. "Besides, feel free to find someone else to do this, I'd be more than happy to give the job to another tattooist."

"I reckon we'd struggle to find one as hot as you, girl. Guess we'll just have to put up with your attitude," Paul teased.

Gwen chose not to dignify him with a response, and carried on working in silence. The words on Paul's back took form, and after a few minutes she sat back and rolled her shoulders to try and ease the tension out of them. "Right, I'm done; go show Dwayne."

Paul practically flew from the bed, jerked the scrunchie from his hair, and turned around to show Dwayne, who instantly burst out laughing.

"What?" Paul demanded. "What the fuck did she do?"

Dwayne smirked. "Nothing, it's fine, really."

Paul glowered at Gwen and took a couple of steps towards her. "What did you ink on me, girl?" he growled.

She bit her lip to stifle a snigger, composed herself and smiled sweetly. "Bite me."

"Hey, fuck you, what the hell did you do? It's not like I can look in a fucking mirror, you know!"

Gwen shrugged. "Bite me."

Paul growled, his fists clenched, and took another step closer. "I'll ask one more time before I rip your fucking throat out. What did you put on my back?"

Gwen scooted back up the bed, hit the headboard with a thump and looked to Dwayne in desperation, her heart pounding and her hands sweating inside the latex gloves. "Tell him before he fucking kills me, damn it!"

Dwayne noted the fear in her eyes and finally relented. "Bro, Paul? She's already told you what she did."

Paul frowned. "Bite me?"

Gwen nodded. "I'm sorry; I thought it would be funny. It won't last, so you know I just…"

Paul finally twigged. "Oh, you mean you tattooed bite me on me?"

"Yeah."

He laughed. "I like that, that's fucking funny. So how long's it gonna last?"

"Not a bloody clue. Do I look like the vampire tattoo expert?" she retorted sassily as the fear in her belly began to ease as Paul's anger faded.

Paul glanced over his shoulder and grinned at Dwayne. "She's feisty; I see what you mean, man."

Dwayne nodded, and winked at Gwen.

She shifted uncomfortably, not fully understanding what Paul was driving at, but all the same not really wanting to know either. "Am I missing something here? What do you mean, Dwayne?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it, doll," he responded smoothly.

Gwen drew her knees up, and hugged her legs, his response doing little to set her at ease. "I don't want to know, right?"

"Well, I guess I could tell you," Paul leered.

"No! No, I don't want to know, okay?"

"Good choice," Dwayne laughed. "Wine?"

She snatched the bottle out of his hand, took a long pull and hoped that some alcohol in her system would make her less jumpy. "Sit down again, Paul. I want to check you back. The sooner the tattoo's gone, the sooner the pair of you can leave me the hell alone for the night."

He dropped down on the bed again, and Gwen prodded his back with her gloved fingers. "Does that hurt at all?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, well it looks totally healed, which is pretty amazing in the space of five minutes. It should scab over, but I can't even see any evidence of that," Gwen frowned, and ran her fingers over the tattoo again. "Maybe the wounds are so small that they heal right away; whatever, it's still freaky."

"Maybe the ink will stick?" Paul mused.

Gwen shook her head. "I doubt it."

"So what's the plan for tomorrow, girl?"

"Same thing again, only this time I chuck some holy water in with the ink."

Both men looked at her like she was crazy.

"Holy water?" Dwayne whispered.

"Sure it harms vampires, right? I know I've only got a handful of Hammer Horror films to work with for reference, but that's correct isn't it?"

Paul swallowed audibly. "Yeah, that's right, girl. Maybe this isn't such a good idea…"

"Let me get one thing straight with you Paul, my arse is on the line here. If David finds out what I know and what I'm doing then I'm dead. I have a good idea of how I'll meet my demise, and it don't look right pretty to me. So you will fucking sit here every damn night until I've tattooed something that lasts longer than a week, 'cos if that git is going to rip my throat out, it won't be before I've done what I'd said I'd do. Got that?"

"But holy water…" Paul murmured, a pained expression on his face.

Gwen tried to hide her smirk; she finally felt like she'd got the upper hand in this situation. "That bad, huh?"

Both guys glared at her.

Gwen looked pointedly at Dwayne. "Maybe I need to start bathing in the damn stuff, or applying it to my neck like perfume."

Dwayne moved with such speed that he was upon her in the blink of an eye, his hand around her throat, nails digging into the skin, and his body on top of hers, pinning her to the bed. "If I think for one fucking second," he spat, "that you'll try and pull some sort of shit with me, it won't be David that you need to be afraid of. You will not hurt me or my brothers. Do as you are told, and I will stand between you and David if he finds out about what's going on, but if I discover that you are plotting anything, I will kill you myself. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Gwen choked out, as she struggled to breath.

"Good girl." He released his hold on her and stepped away.

Gwen blinked, gingerly touched the crescent shaped marks on her neck, and then took another swig of wine for courage. She was pissed now, as she'd not meant that remark in anger. Instead, she'd just totally misjudged a vampire's sense of humor; and she'd thought that Dwayne would find the comment funny. Still, right now she'd had enough of his macho posturing. "Get out, the pair of you."

Dwayne stared menacingly at her for a couple of beats, and then nudged Paul. "Get dressed, man. We'll see you tomorrow night, doll. Same time, same place. And I'll get the holy water, not you."

Paul grabbed his clothes form the chair and Gwen stared at his back. "Stop," she said quietly. "Just hang on a second, Paul."

She stood slowly, crossed the room to him, skirting warily around Dwayne, and ran her still gloved fingers over the tattoo. Her fingers came away black with ink, so she grabbed some Kleenex and wiped the area. The tattoo has practically vanished, the ink pushed out from Paul's skin as his body healed.

"What?" Paul demanded.

She shook her head slowly. "It's gone; the ink's been forced out."

He shrugged and scooped up his clothing. "We knew it would, but thanks for trying, girl. Here." He handed her a small bag of grass. "For your trouble."

And with a whirl of wind, the pair vanished, and her door slammed shut behind them with a thud.

Gwen jerked off the stained gloves and cast them in the trash, grabbed the wine bottle and sat down heavily in the chair that Dwayne had vacated. "God help me," she whispered as she lifted the bottle to her lips with a shaky hand. And to think that she had to do it all over again tomorrow night. That thought made her head spin, so she took another swig, to dull her raging emotions. It was then she realized that the silver cross on her dresser had now vanished, and two vampires had access to her motel room. Shit, things were not looking good.