A/N I don't have any excuses. I'm lame. I know. I'm sorry. You should be use to this. This chapter is a bit short. I just wanted to show you guys that I'm still alive and originally I was going to make it one long chapter but chose to break it up into two. I figured you guys would like that better so you could finally get something to read. If it helps at all I haven't been totally lame. I've actually been working on another story. It's on my secret (yeah right) other account because it's M. I'm thinking about making this M. Let me know if you think I should or if it should stay T. My other story is called 'Angelo Della Notte' (Angel of the Night) and I really enjoy it so check it out. I'll try to update soon. I actually know what the next chapter is so I actually mean it this time.


Jack stirred his coffee lazily, watching the cream swirl slowly into the darker brown until both had dissolved into a rich sienna.

"Isn't there a rule about you being so obnoxious this early in the morning?" he asked without looking up.

Destiny was perched on the counter in front of him. She was – as always – in a dress that seemed to drip seduction. It was deep green with a plunging V neck and ruched sides that clung like a second skin to every curve. The hem just barely brushed mid-thigh, but she made a show of crossing her long, shapely legs and caused the skirt to hike even higher. The entire display was lost on Jack who much rather preferred the coffee's company.

"The boss isn't pleased with you, Jackie." She said softly. Her voice held a tone like a siren's call, soft and alluring yet heavy with the promise of misery.

"He would like to remind you that the hour glass will still run out, weather you fulfill your purpose or not."

Jack spared her a disgusted glance.

"I frankly don't give a damn what your 'boss' thinks. He can go-"

He cut off with a scream of agony as white hot metal ripped suddenly through his chest. It cut through his chest cavity, smashing through bone and muscle before lodging itself deep in the wall of his heart. Jack fell from the chair, clutching desperately at his chest as he writhed and screamed. Destiny stood over him, watching with impassive eyes as the mortal began coughing out massive amounts of his own blood. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain stopped.

Jack lay on his side panting weakly as his entire frame continued to tremble. He pressed a hand to his heaving chest, but felt only solid muscle beneath his probing fingers. It had felt so real...

"You handled it a lot better the first time. Really, Jason, don't be so weak." Destiny sneered, glaring down at the boy with a look of utter distaste.

Jack's eyes were closed as he continued to pant, then in a move faster than a striking snake, he lashed out. He swept her legs out, sending the shocked immortal crashing to the tile floor. He was over her in an instant, his weight pinning her as her grabbed Destiny's wrists in a vice-like grip and smashed them to the floor on either side of her head. She cringed as the bone-jarring impact reverberated down her arms.

"Don't you ever call me by his name again. I will have no regrets in ripping out that filthy tongue of yours the next time you forget your place." His voice was a cold snarl, eyes flashing murder, yet she couldn't resist another barb.

"You may wish to remain delusional, but I am only trying to help you. Have you forgotten the look on her face? She delighted in taking your life. She enjoyed watching you writhe and die. Never once did she regret-"

She cut off with a cry of pain as he slammed her wrists against the floor again, harder.

"Shut your lying mouth!"

"She'll never love you. Delude yourself all you like, but she'll never love you. Even if you destroy every shred of Jason left, she'll always love him even if she's not sure who he is."

Destiny vanished from his grip and appeared a safe distance away, green eyes dancing as she gave a shrike of malicious laughter.

"You never thought it through, Jackie. Even if she turns to you, in the end you'll only be a stand in. In the end it'll still be his name she screams." she sneered.

Jack was on his feet, trembling with rage as she continued to laugh.

"Oh what fools these mortals be!" She taunted savagely.

Before he could cross the room and make good on his threat, a soft knock echoed from the front door.

He gave the immortal one last loathsome look before storming through the dining room to the front foyer. Jack was so furious that he yanked open the door with far more animosity than he had originally intended. It smashed back into the foyer wall where the handle left a slight indent in the plaster. Jack only spared it a glance, too furious to care about his parents reaction.

Sam stood in the doorway, eyes impossibly large in response to his unexpectedly violent greeting. She stared at him speechlessly, shocked by both his attitude and appearance. He was barefoot, dressed only in a pair of faded jeans that rested low on his lean hips and a rumpled button down shirt that hung open, exposing the smooth muscles of his chest and abs. His hair was in wild disarray, as if he had only just woken up, yet his eyes were flashing with a violence that caused Sam to take an involuntary step backwards. Dark blood stained his lips and flecked his chest and shirt, the blotches standing out in horrifying clarity. For the first time in her life, she was honestly scared of him, yet that fear couldn't compare to the terror she felt at the possibility of him being hurt.

"Oh my gosh, Jack! Are you alright? What happened?" she shrieked. Without waiting for an answer, Sam rushed into the house without invitation, dragging her dearest friend by his arm. She sucked in a breath at the sight of his blood splattered across the sand colored tile of the kitchen. What had happened?

She forced him down in a kitchen chair as she fell to her knees and quickly brushed her hands over his chest, searching for the wound. Had he been stabbed? Shot? Was Ari alright?

"Jack, where are you hurt?" She demanded hysterically.

"Sam, I'm alright. Don't worry about it." He said with a tired sigh. Sam gave him a look as if he had lost his mind. Then, with a sudden thought, she grabbed his head and bent it forward to check for any sort of head injury. He batted her hands away then caught them in his own.

"Please, Jack! There's so much blood, tell me where your hurt!" she begged, but he shushed her.

"I'm not hurt. The blood is from an old injury that was acting up. It's nothing to worry about." he replied levelly before releasing her hands. Sam continued to stare at him, her eyes uncomprehending and panicked.

"What injury?" she whispered.

He shrugged noncommittally, though she noticed a sort of cold detachment in his eyes. "Don't worry about it."

Her eyes were uncertain but she nodded slowly. "At least let me clean you up." she said softly. Jack blew out another sigh, clearly finding her concern unnecessary, yet he remained in the chair as she wet a few clean clothes at the sink. She came back and kneeled down in front of him, gently cupping his face in her left hand and forcing his chin up.

Jack's eyes locked with hers as she drew the cool cloth over his full lower lip which he unconsciously parted. She repeated the gesture a few times, slowly tracing their shape before continuing to the rest of his face. She moved it along his smooth jaw, tracing higher over the gentle slope of his cheek before continuing down his neck. She pushed back his open shirt, letting it slid down his arms and pool behind him as she moved the cloth down his chest, her left hand braced against his thigh. Sam avoided his eyes, hoping he didn't notice her slight hesitation. She had seen Jack without his shirt countless times, but the act of actually stripping it from him suddenly felt far too intimate.

She froze with her hand in the middle of his chest, staring at the crimson splatters marring his gently tanned skin. Something about that sight seemed so familiar, as if from a long forgotten nightmare. Suddenly in her mind's eye Sam saw the same chest scored with four deep, jagged holes. She jerked back, then quickly shook her head, desperate to forget the macabre image. She pressed the cloth back to his chest and noticed him give the slightest shudder.

"It's cold." he replied softly to her inquiring look.

Sam managed a mumbled, "oh." before lapsing back into silence.

Her hand continued down his abs and she felt the muscles jump and flex beneath her fingers in response. Something about that knowledge made her feel powerful and, careful to keep her eyes away from his, Sam made a point of slowly tracing each muscle of his lower stomach. Her hand brushed just barely against the waist of his jeans and she heard him give the softest sound.

She looked at him unable to help herself and immediately knew it was a mistake. He was leaning forward ever so slightly, causing him to tower over Sam as she continued to kneel between his knees. His gaze was fixed on her and his eyes had gone a surprisingly dark blue she had never seen before. She wanted to brush back the hair that had fallen around his face in messy disarray, but she found herself utterly frozen, her hand still pressed firmly to the muscles of his stomach.

Sam was so captivated by his eyes that she never noticed him move until she felt his knuckles brushing down her jaw. His thumb slowly brushed her soft, lower lip and he felt her quick, warm breath fanning out against his hand.

He began to trace the lines of her face, his fingers slowly following the sharp angle of her high cheek bone before burying themselves in her golden hair. The feel of his capable fingers gently raking her scalp was shockingly sensual and Sam felt a chill of pleasure race down her spine. What was happening to them?

Before she got an answer to her question, the loud crash of a garbage can toppling echoed from beneath the window, sounding impossibly loud in the silence of the room. Sam and Jack jerked away from each other as if burned. Sam quickly averted her eyes, her face burning in mortification. Jack quickly got up, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

"Stupid Demon. He can never keep out of the trash. I better grab him before he gets it all over the yard." he muttered quickly, grabbing his forgotten shirt before heading out the side door. Sam stared after him for a moment before dazedly getting to her feet and cleaning up the rest of the blood.


A/N I never finished editing all the old chapters with my new spell check so I'll try to get around to that. Lets be honest. parts of the beginning are seriously lame. Basically half of the second chapter is pointless and unneeded so I'll get around to that. Anyway, thanks again for all the reviews and adds. I never thought it would get so popular!

-FLL