”Wednesday’s child is full of woe”.

That would be accurate. You were acutely aware of anything, a guard so up high, you were impenetrable.

So how come Stack was shaking and heaving as he cradled you in his arms, as your blood poured over the leg of his slacks, staining his hands while he panicked and tried to make deals with the man upstairs?

This was a big consequence for something so minuscule like walking in on your brother and his estranged ex-lover going at it like rabbits, maybe Death wanted her to go out with a grand exit, something so jarring that her name will live on. Smoke emptied every bullet in his clips as Mary ran away, his guns clanging to the floor as his chest tightened, but Annie was there to catch him.

That was then.

Now, they’ll make that drive to the distorted mill, where dreams went up in flames and folktales came true. You would sit against the building, eyes glossy like a porcelain doll’s, otherwise you looked human enough. Stack always came bearing gifts, blood from who knows where bagged up and in a cooler- despite you insisting you didn’t need him to do that- because you’re his baby sister. Smoke would come bearing arms, a shot gun strapped to his back with silver bullets in case one of them felt bold enough to try it, he also had regular casings for humans who would dare to try and get you.

Tonight was no different.

“Well if it ain’t my favorite bloodsucker-“

“Knock it off.” Smoke quickly interjected. While Stack tried to lighten up your mood about your..situation, Smoke knew you were still sensitive about it.