Gabe was there again, in his childhood home, on that terrible night. It was the same scenes, over and over again. His dad’s words being cut off with a bullet, his mom’s bone cracking, the sound of that blade against her skin, and Antonio’s cries. This happened more often than not nowadays, but he didn’t believe in therapy.

Not that he’d trust a human with his thoughts and trauma anyways.

In reality, which was a much kinder place than his mind, it was a relatively quiet night in New York City. Gabe could hear the odd siren wailing in the distance, but there were no gun shots near his bar, and no sounds of glass breaking. He had no problem with sirens as long as they weren’t coming towards his bar. It had been a slow night, but it was only Wednesday. You’d have to be a real piece of work to be here, getting drunk in the middle of the week. The odd patron was scattered in various corners of his bar, but most of them were just casually grabbing a drink with friends.

Gabe was lost in his thoughts as he went through the familiar motions of cleaning up behind the bar. The music played softly in the background, adding a comfortable ambiance ringing in his ear and breaking through his memories. However, the calm was broken by the sound of the golden bell above the front door. He raised an eyebrow, automatically on edge after his dive back into his stupid mind. The person who walked in wasn’t anyone he recognized.

He reached for the gun he kept under the counter.

“Evening,” he nodded, but his eyes scanned over the newcomer, seeing for anything remotely hunter-esque.

Antonio was asleep in the apartment above the bar. All the patrons in here were supernaturals. If this was a hunter, ever worse, a scout for them, he’d make sure they never made their report.

He had witnessed true monsters when he was sixteen. He knew how they acted, how they thought. He knew how they killed. If he had to become one of them to keep all of them safe, he was willing to.

Maybe then it would atone for killing his parents.