I jog my way down the front path towards the entrance gate, the draw bridge falling across the moat to allow my passage. My feet soon hit the asphalt of the road and I hit a comfortable rhythm. 'One, two, in, out,' I mentally say to myself, 'One, two, purple, in, out.' That thought causes me to falter for a moment and I misstep.

Pausing for a moment, "Get it together Saint," I chastise myself, before restarting my motions, 'One, two, floating, in, out.' Fleeting images in my mind, distracting me once again, this time instead of stopping I pick up my pace. Because of that I am unaware that I had just passed the open Calloway entrance where the cadets and the Colonel are beginning their morning jog.

'OnE, tWo, stiches, iN, OuT,' the thoughts coming to the forefront of my consciousness are getting more frequent. I snarl loudly picking up the pace even more. Images of the girls in ever increasing sensual poses and actions, making sure that at this point in my run I am in a full-on sprint.

Heavy footfalls slap down as I speed down the winding road. 'ONE, TWO, fur, violet, stretching, gasping, clawing, IN, OUT,' with a loud roar I stop my running and spin into the mountain side next to me. Before peppering the stone and earth with rapid punches. The skin on my knuckles ripping open, a sickening crunch as a sharp rock finds purchase in between the metacarpals, dislocating two fingers. But I keep punching, breathing rapidly, berating myself loudly.

"Fucking. Stupid. Ass. Bastard," I scream. "Why, why does it have to be so confusing." Blow after blow into the earth, pummeling ever so deeper, then I run out of steam. Anger is a hell of a motivator, it burns hots, but fast, flickering, fading leaving one drained of energy.

"Holy shit," I hear from the side of me, turning my head to look in the direction, I can see the cadets and the Colonel staring at me from up the trail. I must have gotten ahead of them at some point.

"Mister, um, Van Helsing, are you okay?" The Colonel says nervously as he watches me.

I lean back and stare up into the sky, taking a deep breath through my nostrils. A raven flying overhead lets out a caw, "No…" I quietly respond, "No I'm not." Instead I stand up straight and put my hands in my pockets to cover the scars and hide the blood before solemnly passing the group of boys and their commanding officer.

It's a long walk back to Grimwood's and all I have for a companion are my own traitorous thoughts.

On the trails leading to town the Calloway Cadets and the Colonel stood as a group.

Baxter slowly walked over to Colonel Calloway, "Um permission to speak freely sir?" he requested.

Vernon nodded, "Go ahead Baxter, what seems to be the problem?"

Nervously shuffling his foot, the eleven-year old boy looked at the ground for a moment collecting his thoughts, then looked up at the only adult, "Why is Mr. Van Helsing covered in so many scars?"

The Colonel looking at the questioning looks of his cadets, then hung his head in shame, "I don't know, I've seen veterans come back from warzones more intact than him, and I think the answer will scare me something fierce."

Back in the Grimwood's kitchen, Ms. Grimwood is pacing in front of her charges. Huffing and trying to piece together her thoughts, she hears the slam of the front door, signifying that Stevan has left the house. Turning on the girls quickly she decides to begin getting some answers, "Girls I need to know, what is going through your heads lately?"

Ms. Grimwood scans the room but none of the girls are willing to make eye contact with her, "Well, someone needs to start talking." At this a small, bandaged hand rose up. "Yes Tanis dear?"

"Um when us girls talked about him yesterday, they kept saying he was warm and he that had drinks?" the little mummy girl said trying to remember the conversation previously had that for the most part went over her head.

"Warm and… drinks?" Ms. Grimwood quirked an eyebrow and looked at the more mature teenagers. "Girls, what does Tanis mean by that?"

"Funny story Ms. G," Winnie giggled. "We may have talked about howwwww, a-attractive the new coach is." She tapered off her own laughter as she saw that there was no amusement on the older woman's face.

"Girls am I to believe that you have been behaving this way because," she groaned as she said the next part. "You have a crush on Mr. Van Helsing?" And with all the courage a teenager could muster under the scrutinizing gaze of their teacher, they mumbled their answers in the affirmative. Sighing, the witch sat down in a kitchen chair, "Why, what could possibly lead to this?"

Phanty giggled, "He just gets the old ectoplasm flowing."

"From a purely objective standpoint his body his well within the parameters of being called, "Scrumptious"," Elsa shrugged.

"It's not like we're acting on anything," Sibella then glared at the teenage ghost. "Well most of us aren't."

Winnie scratched behind her ear, "It's not like we have a large pool of guys to look at, no offense, but the cadets are kind of dorks."

"So you are what, just looking at him like a piece of meat?" Abigail gasped. "I was certain I wouldn't have to tell you this but, have some class, he's a person you can't just…" she flustered.

"Relax, Ms. G," Phanty floated down to her teacher. "We aren't touching him or anything, but in the grand scheme of things, there really aren't that many people, human or not who, A, look like that and B, aren't completely disgusted or afraid of us."

"Yes and he is a hunter," Sibella added. "It's not as if he would find us attractive or anything, it's why I wasn't particularly mad about Phanty's earlier prank."

"I just worry girls," Ms. Grimwood rested her head on the kitchen table. "I already brought in someone who's potentially dangerous, and now I apparently have to deal with hormonal teenagers."

The teenaged girls laughed at the comical situation that their teacher had gotten herself into but before they could offer her comfort the front door opened. The occupants of the kitchen turned to see who was coming in, they watched as their new coach strode passed the doorway and headed up the stairs.

"Was that?" Ms. Grimwood asked.

"Ye-yeah," Winnie whimpered.

Ms. Grimwood looked cautiously at her girls as she saw the hackles raise on the back of Winnie's neck, "Winnie what's wrong?" she hadn't seen the young werewolf this on edge since a few years ago when the cadets played a particularly cruel prank on the girls.

"Blood," Sibella whispered. "He smells like blood."

"Girls wait here while I got check on him," Ms. Grimwood ordered as she got up from the table and went to the upper floors of her home. "Handy, please take me to where Stevan is," the witch asked of her disembodied servant.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I seethe as I pour the amber antiseptic over my roughed hands, the liquid flowing around the cuts and scrapes. "You're better than this, better than your anger."

I turn my head quickly to the side when I hear footsteps approaching. "Stevan are you in here?" the voice of my kindly boss calls out to me.

"Yes Ms. Grimwood, I'm in here," I respond. "No sense in hiding, she's a witch it wouldn't take her much to track me down."

"Stevan I wanted to talk to you about, your hands," Ms. Grimwood exclaimed as she rushed over to me standing by the sink. "What happened to you, did you get into another fight?"

"No," I curtly respond. "I'm fine, just go back to whatever it is you were doing."

"Stevan, you're bleeding, and your knuckles are turning a nasty shade of purple," she said as she examined my hands. "I cannot consider that fine."

I grab the two dislocated fingers and yank quickly, the sharp popping sound as they are forced back into place. Pulling the digits into a fist a couple times I raise my hand up, "See, everything is fine."

Ms. Grimwood scans my face, obviously looking for signs of discomfort. "I just need to know that you are okay," she quietly says.

"I'll be fine, I always am," I say as I push passed her. "I need to clear my head," I grumbled as I head up the stairs to my room.

Author's Notes: I would like to make a joke that I'm alive, but considering I have been updating other stories and doing stuff it wasn't hard to see that I was still active. Just hit a bit of a snag with this chapter, it just doesn't feel long enough and I wasn't sure how to end each scene. I kept feeling their was more to talk about.

I guess I'll update now and hope I can do something good next time to make up for it.

Dear Saint is having some troubles, a very repressed childhood, one spent focusing solely on training and monsters, would likely leave him very confused.

But it's not going to be all sunshine and rainbows, oh no, dark clouds loom on the horizon.

I don't want to get people's hopes up but I want to try for more frequent updates.

I work on a lot of stories so I really don't want any of them to feel forgotten.