FicWad

Gwen was busy cleaning up the apartment she shared with her two best friends, Nikki and Tara. Of course, they left early that morning, claiming they had to get to work early. Liars.

Lately, the girls seemed afraid to talk to Gwen. Sure, they'd stand by her throughout the hard times, but they had no clue how to make Gwen feel better now. How could they? The night she returned with red eyes and a comatose expression, it was obvious that she and Pete had broken up. But they knew so little about Pete, and to tell the truth, there were too many odd things about that man to begin with...

The phone rang suddenly, forcing Gwen out of her thoughts.
"Hello?" she asked cautiously.

Even though there had been no word from Pete, every time the phone rang she was afraid to hear his hurt voice. (Who would be more hurt was the question.)

"Hello dear, how are you?"

Relief spread through her at the recognition of her mother's voice.

"Hi, Mom. I'm...I'm doing fine," she said, forcing a smile on her lips--even if her mother couldn't see her, the woman had a creepy intuition about those kinds of things.

"Oh, really? Then what's this I hear about a break-up?" she demanded.

The blood drained completely from her face, and the shock almost knocked her off her feet.
Crap.

Now she was in for it. One thing was for sure: whoever leaked this information to her overbearing mother would get it worse than Pete surrounded by a crowd of pre-teen girls.

"Break-up? What are you talking about?" she said, trying hard not to voice her panic.

Seriously, what was she supposed to tell her mother about Pete? "Oh, hey, mom, you'll absolutely love my boyfriend! He's a rock star by day and a vampire slayer turned blood-sucking vampire by night!"

"Gwen, please stop playing these games! Why didn't I hear about this Patrick before?"

The situation became far worse than Gwen ever imagined. It seemed her mother knew a lot more about Pete than she let on. Gwen knew her mother was pretending not to have almost all the information so she could trick her into revealing more.

"Um..." she said, trying to find an escape. The doorbell rang, springing silent songs of praise from Gwen. "Someone's at the door. I'll be right back."

She yanked the door open, turned her back, and motioned for Nikki to use the usual ploy that got her out of a phone call with her mother.

"I'm sorry Mom, but it looks like Ni-" Gwen turned around to see Patrick looking quizzically at her. "Um...Patrick looks sick, I need to help him, so I gotta go."

"So that's why you broke up with Pete? Because you were with his best friend Patrick?"

Gwen turned beet red, fully aware that Patrick could hear every word. Yes, Heaven help her, her mother just decided to call her a slut in front of Patrick. Gwen could have died of shame on the spot.

"Mom! I would never do that! Jeez! Goodbye now!"

Patrick shifted his feet uncomfortably and pulled his hat down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to barge in," he muttered.

"It's okay, my mom's crazy," she said, and before she could stop herself, she added, "What's wrong? Is Pete okay?"

Patrick looked up at Gwen, not even trying to hide his grin. Gwen wanted to punch his face because the smug smile told her what they both knew: vampire or not, she would continue to love Pete.

"If this is his way of trying to get me back, then you might as well leave." Patrick looked at the floor again and stuffed his hands in his pockets, muttering something Gwen couldn't hear. "Look, I'm sorry that Pete made you do this--"

"Pete didn't make me come, it's just that I know he needs you right now, and without you he's lost, I can't stand watching him waste away," he said quickly and nervously.

Okay, maybe she was being hard on him, but Gwen knew if she heard Patrick talk about Pete she would go running back into Pete's arms. She couldn't bear it.

She sighed, knowing that she was hooked in.
"All right then, let's hear what you have to say," she said, sitting down on the couch.

"Gwen, there's something you need to know."

"Okay, I'll bite. What's that?"

"The night Pete turned...it's not what you think."

Gwen made a loud noise of disbelief, and while rolling her eyes, she said, "That's the big 'holy crap, I was so wrong, let's go skipping back to Pete' moment? Please, you know that he's been obsessed with killing vampires for ages. Pete only does what he wants, no matter who might get hurt. It was his choice," she stubbornly said.

Patrick shook his head vigorously. "No, you've got it all wrong. The Dandies--do you know who they are?"

"Yes, unfortunately..." she said, staring up into space with an odd look on her face. "...they're the vampires who dress like gentlemen and lure girls in with their charms before sucking them dry."

"Well, okay. The day before Pete turned, Andy and Joe caught a Dandy, and before they staked him, he told them that the Dandies' leader, Beckett, planned to attack the Warriors at a certain spot--"

She rolled her eyes again, and with a sigh of annoyance, almost as if hearing this vampire information was making these the most boring moments of her life. "And the Warriors are?"

"Have you ever seen packs of punks wandering about town?"

"Yeah, they're always--wait. They vampires?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Of course--they're the Warriors. Anyway, Pete freaked out when he heard about it. He decided that we attack both of the covens of vampires after they weakened each other."

"Figures," Gwen said, getting up and beginning to sweep the ground with a battered broom. "He never hesitated if he thought he could kill twice the amount of vampires."

"Gwen, wait. We got to the spot, but no one was there. Pete immediately realized something wasn't right, but before we could leave, a bunch of Dandies popped up out of nowhere. Of course, we slayed them."

"This is all interesting news, but you know, people do have lives outside of hunting vampires. So if you don't mind, I have other things to do right now."

"I'm not finished. Since those Dandies scared the hell out of us, Pete made us feel better by cracking jokes about the situation. And before we realized what happened, Beckett appeared...that bastard took Pete by surprise! Pete was freaking smiling right when it happened. Beckett left him bleeding in the street...then he grinned at us before tipping his damned bowler hat and disappearing again."

"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered, her back to Patrick.

"There's a reason why Pete did what he did."

Gwen stood there shaking, horror filling her.
"No, don't you dare say it, don't you dare!"

Patrick continued on anyway. "The place where the Dandies planned to attack the Warriors...it was three blocks from here."

"No, you're lying!" she wailed, crying as the numbness set in.

"He had to go make sure none of them terrorized the area. To protect you."

"Stop lying!" she shrieked, whirling around and slapping Patrick as hard as she could.

He took a stunned step backwards, but he realized that Gwen wasn't mad at him. She was mad at herself because she believed it was her fault that Pete was now what he hated most.

"I couldn't let you think Pete's a monster..." he said quietly.

---
She knew it was weird to be sitting and almost cuddling with his best friend. But she couldn't stay at home alone, and she couldn't tell the girls about her problems with Pete anyway. They didn't know anything about him for a reason.

So Gwen found herself with Patrick in the safe house.

She hadn't decided whether to see Pete again or not. It wasn't an easy decision. Patrick just let her sit there, thinking about everything. He had things to do, but she also knew that Patrick was running away, too. He didn't want to see Pete like this and wasn't sure if he could handle it. So she let him sit there, pretending to comfort Gwen when really they were trying to comfort each other.

"So. Uh. You want to go out sometime?" he asks her, a stupid grin on his face. "I mean, with me?" he adds, knowing how ridiculous he sounded. Of course she knows it was with him.

Right?

"Maybe. But if you stake a vampire in the middle of our dinner and accidentally drop him in my soup, we're over," Gwen answers.

She’s smiling harder than she has in a long time. It tells so much about her and her feelings for the boy in front of her, the boy who wore mismatched clothes, who was more than he seemed, who went out hunting vampires late at night to keep people safe. She wants to hide her smile away from the world, maybe hide it somewhere so it would only be for him.

"Oh? Soup? So that means I'm taking you somewhere fancy?"
He was quicker than he looked. But only when he was sure.

"Of course! How do you think you're going to get into my pants?"
She was quick, too. But she was always sure.

"Seven? On Friday?"

"Sure," she says, not caring if she was busy then. She would immediately cancel whatever it was, anyway....

It was ten before eight and she was sitting on her own in a seat by the window. Four dates had flown by, smoother than either one of them had expected.

Tonight Gwen had nothing planned. The girls were out--boyfriend or work--and she didn't feel like watching "Bewitched" re-runs for the whole night, so she decided to get a late dinner at her favorite diner downtown.

Here she would be alone for hours. The staff knew her well enough to know that she was fine like this. This was her thinking time, her time to draw whatever popped into her mind. The table she sat at was unofficially her table. The other regulars knew to never sit there and the newbies were immediately steered away.

With a chocolate shake covered french fry poised to become an early night snack, she wasn't waiting for anyone.

"Any chance that I could have some of that?"

Her eyes slightly widen as she looks up from her work to see Pete standing there.

"Whoa. You must be stalking me."

Neither knew if Gwen is serious or not.

"Uh. No. I just called your apartment and Nikki told me where you'd be. Unless you just want to be alone? I didn't mean to interrupt you," he apologetically says, ready to turn and leave.

Gwen was going to answer him when she stopped, a confused expression on her face. "Wait. But Nikki's out with her boyfriend--"

She abruptly stops speaking when she realizes what that means. A few moments pass by until Pete finally winces in understanding.

"Oooh. Didn't mean to mess up that guy's night," he says, laughing.

Gwen smiles. "That means you kept calling and calling."

Pete nervously shifts around. "What are you talking about?"

"It means, honey," she says, popping a fry into her mouth, "that you kept calling until she picked up. Because Nikki would never stop in the middle of sex for one call."

“I…might’ve called a few times in a row, yeah,” he concedes.

Pete’s downcast eyes and shuffling feet tell Gwen that he hasn’t been this embarrassed in a long time.

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to keep me company,” she nonchalantly says, her eyes on her work and her charcoal running across the paper again.

He doesn’t make a sound as he slides into the booth and takes a chocolate-covered french fry.

…“…Damn it, Pete, this isn’t funny!” she yells, now months in.

Pete tries not to laugh, but even with his face hidden and his body turned away, she still sees the silent giggles shaking his body.

“And you! Don’t think you’re going anywhere just yet!” she yells, spinning around to catch Patrick trying to escape the scene of the crime.

“But. I. This is something. You guys need to talk,” Patrick fumbles.

She doesn’t need to tell him that’s she’s beyond angry. Her face is stretched into an angry expression they never thought they’d see on her. Gwen pushes Pete down on the couch and practically grabs Patrick by the neck.

“You said you’d take care of him. Does this look like he’s been taken care of?” she asks, pointing at Pete, who smells worse than any human being should be allowed to smell.

By now, he is slumped across the couch, greasy hair smashed to his face, hoodie half on, half off. He’s still laughing.

“Oh, someone took care of me, all right,” he says, laughing harder.

Gwen’s hard eyes find Patrick’s guilty eyes.

“Did he—-”She stops herself from finishing her sentence. She doesn’t want to know.

“No, no, no, no,” Patrick answers, scrambling for an explanation. “He means someone covered the tab, there wasn’t a girl. Well, there was, but that. I don’t mean he was—-”

Pete lifts his head up, his eyes a mad glint in them. “Trick, you are sooo not helping. You’re making Gwen think I fucked some random chick.”

Patrick freezes, but Pete doesn’t seem to realize what he’s just said. She doesn’t answer. She leaves and quietly shuts the door to her room.

She’s so upset she doesn’t know whether to sit or stand, laugh or scream, call it quits or hold him. There’s a ten minute silence, but Gwen’s sure Patrick left. She hears shuffling, and hopes that Pete falls flat on his drunk, stupid, childish, impulsive face.

The door doesn’t squeak, but she still feels the weight of his head on her shoulder. Gwen shrugs his head off, standing to avoid any contact.

“Gwen. Gwennnnn, what’s wrong?” Pete slurs.

She doesn’t need to turn around—she knows he’s giving her a sheepish grin with his arms wide open for her.

A deep breath and she lays in on him. “I just want you to know how much I hate this. How I hate thinking I can trust you, thinking that you won’t do something that might kill you, how you might do something that might kill Patrick, how for the one second my back is turned, you decide to do anything incredibly stupid when there are so many people depending on you.”

“I think,” he says, hiccupping, “that you mean you. I mean, you mean you when you say so many people.”

Here she whirls around, intent on giving him the world’s worst black eye, but his eyes, those sad drunken eyes, catch her off guard.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.

“Killing yourself. You’re only one guy, one normal guy who shouldn’t have to be pulled apart by normal life and a life only thirteen year-old boys think is awesome.”

Pete pushes himself up, all the playfulness gone.

“I do it because no one else will. I do this to get by. Or I don’t know. This is how I’ve always remembered it to be. This is how it’s supposed to be. And if you don’t like it, there’s always that front door!”

She doesn’t know whether he’ll pass out or sober up from the sudden anger. Gwen silently watches how he tries to act like he’s not drunker than a pack of frat boys on spring break. For a moment, she knows he thinks he won.

“Pete, you’re such a fucking moron.”

Neither of them says a word as she grabs her coat and slams the door to her apartment shut behind her.