ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇꜱꜱ

Hope that he actually had a blood relative still alive. A chance for closure. To face the past that had haunted him for so many years.

Uncertainty that this was real at all. An elaborate distraction to draw him away from Mercy.

But stronger than all … something far more intense bubbled to the surface.

Anger. Anger. Anger.

He sat down. Thankfully there was a chair close to him so he landed on it rather than falling rather unceremoniously to the floor. His gaze was distant while he struggled to comprehend everything.

“No. It’s impossible. There’s no way.” Luis shook his head, deep in denial but also not willing to dismiss the notion entirely. His gaze lifted to Ayla, champagne eyes glossy with tears he was desperately fighting back.

He felt violated for having his head invaded in such a way, of course, but really it was negligible in the grand scheme of things. The growing lump in his throat became more difficult to swallow.

He didn’t lash out. He didn’t admonish her. Instead, he explained everything to her.

The historically rocky relationship with his brother and his parents. The events leading to the night he was turned. His abandonment. Everything. He didn’t know why he felt so comfortable telling her when it was still so painful opening up old wounds, but after they’d unintentionally established a connection with each other it seemed to come naturally.

He hesitated at her question. “I will admit … I never saw his body. I never considered the possibility that he could have also been turned … but when I came around from being bitten he was nowhere to be found. I just … presumed that-”

Further words died in his throat. Silence stretched out between them again and his gaze fell to the floor, as if he was deeply contemplating. He recognised the opportunity presenting itself to him and decided to grasp desperately at it.

“You can do it again, right?” Luis asked, abruptly breaking the silence. A wistful tug of desperation was obvious in his tone as he rose to his feet again, “Enter my dreams, I mean. Let me stay here tonight, I’ll let myself fall into a deep sleep. You have to do it again, you have to find him! Please!”

“I am sorry, Luis. I know this might feel wrong. Sometimes I simply happen to enter other people’s dreams. My abilities take years to master, and while I am capable of controlling them much better now, sometimes things tend to become... overcharged.”

She understood that he might feel violated by what had happened. After all, dreams were intimate things, filled with memories and emotions people might never willingly reveal while awake.

“But believe me when I say that he is alive. Had he truly been dead, I wouldn’t even have been able to discover this information. When I went through that door, the world around me changed. It was dark in the same way your mind was, but it was different. It wasn’t you anymore. I could feel that.”

As Luis began to explain everything, Ayla simply listened. She didn’t interrupt him, nor did she attempt to offer an explanation for something she herself didn’t fully understand. From what she gathered, there were emotions that had plagued Luis for centuries, wounds that had never truly healed. And perhaps Carlos carried some of those same wounds.

Ayla wasn’t entirely certain why she had felt compelled to tell him about what she had seen. Perhaps she simply wanted to help. She had always believed that certain things were shown to her for a reason, even when that reason wasn’t immediately apparent. Maybe she had been meant to find that door. Maybe she had been meant to tell Luis what she had discovered.

Perhaps this was the universe making that clear.

At his sudden plea, her expression softened.

“I can enter your dreams again, yes, but it isn’t quite as easy as that,” she explained gently. “Even if I entered your dreams tonight and managed to find that door again, Carlos would have to be asleep at the same time. Otherwise, there would be no dream for me to enter. No consciousness for me to follow beyond that connection.”

She considered their options for a moment.

“However, I could perform a locator spell to determine where he currently is. I would need to use your blood and alter the spell slightly because I have nothing that belongs directly to him, but the blood connection between brothers might be enough.” She paused. “The problem is that he could be anywhere in the world. If he has been alive all this time, there is no reason to assume he remained anywhere near where you last saw him.”

Then another possibility occurred to her.

“Unless what you truly desire is to uncover what happened that night.”

Her gaze settled upon him.

“I might be able to help you revisit the memory. I could enter your mind and guide you back to that night, perhaps uncover details you have forgotten or things your subconscious noticed that you did not.” Ayla hesitated, unwilling to give him false hope. “But there is no guarantee that I would discover what happened to Carlos. If you never witnessed what happened to him, then the answer may simply not exist within your memories.” She stepped a little closer, her voice quieter now.

“I know you may doubt me. You have every reason to question what I am telling you, especially after believing something entirely different for nearly two centuries. And perhaps the fact that I am a witch makes trusting me even more difficult.”

Ayla held his gaze.

“But I am not trying to deceive you, Luis. I am not trying to distract you from Mercy, nor am I attempting to manipulate you into believing something that isn’t true. I told you because you deserved to know what I saw.” There was no uncertainty in her voice when she spoke again.

“Carlos is alive.”

X - ♡ PRETTYLITTLEPREDATORS ♡ - X — An independent, private, and selective portrayal of Chae-rin "Cherry" Takahashi, an original character inspired by Teen Wolf, The Vampire Diaries, and East Asian folklore. Built upon extensive original lore, mythology, and headcanons, with additional inspiration drawn from cult classics such as Jennifer's Body and Ginger Snaps. Crossovers and original characters are always welcome. Slaughtered by V

She felt her breath was heavier and like she was chasing after each inhale. Her eyes slowly tracked up to look at Ayla's closed one as she let out a short chuckle and her lip tilted into a slight smirk before it fell. It wasn't cocky, but rather some seemingly natural reaction that she wasn't sure where it came from.

"It wasn't just wishful thinking," Caitlin replied, trying to ground herself for a moment. The chaos stirred again before it slowed again with a calming breath. It should be satisfied enough with the magic she had used, but for some reason in Ayla's presence it seemed almost eager.

Her eyes locked with the other woman's as she felt her fingers intwine with hers and her breath hitched for a moment. Caitlin wasn't someone who blushed or stuttered but she felt speechless for now. Unable to form anything that would sound coherantly decent right now. She licked her lips and nodded in agreement. "Me too," she said, "I've had to do a lot alone... I guess it's kinda nice not being alone."

The colors around Ayla danced as Caitlin let her focus slip and allowed herself just to feel right now. To let the melding of their magic dance together rather than fight it. The chaos no longer tried to lash, instead it seemed to dance and intertwine with Ayla and the pink, purple, and orange hues that floated around her.

Her head tilted in a curious look as she almost asked what she deserved to be rewarded for. Then their lips met again and Caitlin's eyes closed again. She let out a soft hum against Ayla's lips as her hips pressed gently into the other woman's. While she couldn't see it, she could feel it. The way the chaos and the magic between the two witches moved. Caitlin had never felt anything like this. It was always her fighting her own magic and her own chaos. Instead it seemed to wrap lazily around the both of them in a gentle caress.

Caitlin's hand found Ayla's face again as her thumb gently brushed over the skin. "I like this reward," she whispered against he lips, barely breaking the kiss before she continued it once again. Still gentle and like she didn't want it to end.

Ayla had kissed people before. She had wanted people before, had allowed herself those fleeting moments of intimacy where the world outside became quiet enough that she could pretend she wasn't carrying generations of magic, death and expectation upon her shoulders. Yet this felt different. Caitlin felt different. There was something almost frightening about how naturally Ayla's body seemed to understand hers, how easily she had melted into the other witch as though somewhere beneath thought and reason, something had already decided that this was exactly where she belonged. Perhaps it was the magic. Perhaps it was simply Caitlin. Ayla wasn't certain which answer frightened her more.

The kiss softened, but Ayla's passion did not. If anything, the gentleness only made it worse. It gave her time to notice everything, the warmth of Caitlin's hand against her face, the brush of her thumb over her skin, the subtle pressure of her body against her own. Even the smallest things suddenly felt terribly important. Ayla breathed against her lips when Caitlin whispered, and the words earned something between a laugh and a sigh from her. Her eyes remained closed for another moment, unwilling to surrender whatever strange little world they had accidentally created between them. "Good," she murmured, her lips brushing Caitlin's again with the word. "Because I was beginning to worry my rewards weren't generous enough." There was amusement in it, but it lasted only until Ayla opened her eyes.

The colors surrounding Caitlin immediately caught her attention. Ayla had noticed them before, of course, but now they weren't merely surrounding her. They were reaching. Curling around the hues of Ayla's own magic with an intimacy that should have made her instinctively pull away. Magic was rarely innocent when it behaved without command. Her mother had taught her that. Power had intention, even when the witch wielding it did not understand what that intention was. Yet Caitlin's chaos wasn't attacking her. It wasn't consuming her magic or attempting to overpower it. It was almost... playing with it. Pink folded into orange, purple disappearing beneath something darker only to emerge again, the energies twisting around one another before lazily settling around them both.

"Do you feel that?" Her voice had changed, quieter now, but there was an unmistakable fascination beneath it. Her fingers tightened between Caitlin's as her other hand settled against the side of her neck, thumb moving slowly beneath her jaw. "Your magic isn't fighting mine anymore." Her eyes flickered briefly toward the colors before returning to Caitlin's. "It was restless before. I could feel it. Almost like it couldn't decide whether it wanted to push me away or..." The smallest smile touched her lips. "...drag me closer."

Ayla leaned forward again, though this time she didn't immediately kiss her. Instead, her nose brushed Caitlin's, their foreheads touching once more while she allowed herself to simply breathe her in. It should have been overwhelming. Maybe it was. Ayla had spent so much of her life learning how to interpret strange things, dreams that weren't hers, symbols she couldn't immediately understand, whispers from magic older than anyone living had the right to remember. She had learned to question everything. Yet for once she didn't want to dissect what was happening until there was nothing beautiful left of it.

"I know what you mean," she whispered. "About being alone." Her expression softened, the playfulness slipping away completely. "You do something by yourself long enough and eventually you convince yourself that you prefer it that way. That you don't need anyone standing beside you because needing someone means giving them the opportunity to disappear." Ayla's thumb continued its slow movement against Caitlin's skin. "And then someone comes along and makes being alone feel considerably less impressive than you thought it was." Her smile returned then, small and warm, before she kissed the corner of Caitlin's mouth. "Which is terribly inconvenient, by the way."

Another kiss followed, this one against her lips.

"And you are becoming very inconvenient."

Ayla didn't retreat far enough for Caitlin to properly answer. She kissed her again, deeper with every passing second but still controlled, still savoring rather than consuming. Her fingers slipped from Caitlin's hand only so she could place both hands against her, one resting along her jaw while the other settled against her waist and drew her closer. There was no hesitation in Ayla now. Whatever uncertainty had existed before had burned away beneath the simple realization that Caitlin wanted this too, and Ayla had never been particularly talented at wanting something halfway.

The magic reacted almost immediately.

Ayla felt it before she saw it, warmth moving beneath her skin as Caitlin's chaos curled around her power again. Instead of instinctively pulling her magic inward, Ayla let it answer. Just a little. Enough that the colors surrounding them brightened and twisted together, no clear beginning or ending between them anymore. It made something inside Ayla ache in a way she couldn't name. Magic was intimate by nature. Anyone claiming otherwise had never truly allowed another witch to touch theirs. It carried pieces of you that words couldn't explain, things buried too deeply for ordinary hands to reach. And Caitlin's chaos was touching hers without destroying anything.

Ayla finally broke the kiss, though only barely. Her breathing had become uneven now too, lips remaining close enough that they brushed Caitlin's whenever either of them moved. "Caitlin..." There was something almost reverent in the way she said her name, though the look in her eyes was anything but innocent. "I don't think your chaos wants to hurt me." Her fingers slid gently through Caitlin's hair, keeping her close as Ayla studied her face. "I think it likes me."

That earned a breathless little laugh from her, and for a second Ayla looked almost delighted by the absurdity of it. "Which either means I am extraordinarily charming, or you have somehow managed to corrupt your own primordial chaos into having questionable taste." Her mouth curved. "Personally, I prefer the first explanation."

She kissed her again before Caitlin could accuse her of arrogance, smiling faintly against her lips. Yet when Ayla pulled back this time, the teasing didn't entirely survive. Her forehead rested against Caitlin's once more, her fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw while her gaze searched hers.

"But don't fight it right now," Ayla whispered. "Not because I want something from you. Not because I think you should lose control." Her voice softened even further. "Just... let it exist. Let yourself exist without having to wrestle yourself into submission every second." Ayla knew the hypocrisy buried somewhere in those words. She had spent years doing exactly that to herself.

Perhaps that was why she understood.

"If it becomes too much, I'll pull away. If you want me to stop, I stop." Her thumb brushed slowly across Caitlin's lower lip, and Ayla's gaze followed the movement before lifting back to her eyes. "But if you don't..." Her smile was quieter now, passion settling beneath it like heat beneath embers. "Then for once, Caitlin, you don't have to be alone with it." The confession lingered between them, perhaps more vulnerable than Ayla had intended. She could have covered it with another joke. Usually she would have. Instead, she simply looked at Caitlin and allowed the words to remain exactly as they were.

Then her gaze dropped briefly toward Caitlin's mouth.

"And since you apparently approve of your reward..." Ayla murmured, her fingers curling gently at Caitlin's waist as she drew her close again. "I would hate to leave you dissatisfied."

This time when Ayla kissed her, there was nothing tentative about it. There was still tenderness, still that maddening slowness that allowed every movement to linger, but beneath it was unmistakable hunger. Ayla poured everything she hadn't known how to say into it, letting Caitlin feel the answer instead. Her hand remained against her cheek, holding her with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the kiss, while the magic around them continued its strange, beautiful dance.

And for perhaps the first time, Ayla didn't try to understand it.

She simply let herself want.

But it wasn’t the prospect of viewing his tragic future that filled him with dread - rather it was what she said next.

There is something else I believe you should know.

Luis had been about to sit down and attempt to make himself comfortable in preparation for whatever type of reading was about to follow, but he stilled in his movements and his gaze fell upon Ayla instead.

What could she possibly mean by that? Something about Mercy he was unaware of? Was this meeting unknowingly putting her in danger?

When Ayla’s expression darkened, the tension in his limbs rose and his chest tightened. “?”

Nothing could have prepared him for what she said next.

The temperature in the room plummeted. His aura spiked with it, akin to some kind of shrieking beast that tried to guard him. A barrier he desperately wanted to hide behind.

How did she know about Carlos?

A whirlwind of emotions brewed inside him. His initial feeling was optimism and the hope that he could potentially face what had plagued him for so long. Closure. Those feelings were soon absorbed by a bubbling rage in his chest, and a looming darkness that swallowed his golden eyes until they were pits of obsidian. He couldn’t articulate the scrambled thoughts in his brain, or decide what to ask first.

“My brother?” He snapped, his stance defensive though the sharp hostility in his tone was not intentional. It was more coming from a place of anxiety and panic. Disbelief. Could the witch read his mind, or hear his thoughts? Did she really know something about him ... ? He tried to close off his mind to her but it was futile at this point. The fact that she'd already mentioned him meant that she'd seen too much.

“My brother is dead. Has been since the 1800s. What can you possibly tell me about him? What do you know about him, and how?”

Ayla had expected a reaction like this. Considering what she had seen within the dream realm, it made perfect sense that the mere mention of his brother would strike a nerve. She didn't recoil from the sudden hostility in his voice, though her expression softened slightly.

"I should explain something," she began carefully. "When I performed the daylight spell for you, there was an unexpected side effect. I am not simply a witch. I come from a family of witches gifted with the ability to dream-walk. My bloodline can be traced back to Qetsiyah, an ancient Greek witch whose actions would eventually affect the supernatural world for centuries." She paused, allowing him a moment to process that before continuing.

"A dream-walking witch is capable of entering the dreams of others. Usually, it is something done intentionally, but this wasn't. I believe there were remnants of the magic from the daylight spell still connecting us. That same night, when I went to sleep, my mind wandered into your dreams." Ayla watched him closely. "You were likely unaware of my presence because your subconscious didn't register that I was there. I didn't intend to enter your mind, Luis. It simply happened." There was, however, another part she suspected he would like considerably less.

"While I was there, I found a door. It didn't seem to belong to your dream at all. It was closed, painted black, and there was something almost... restless behind it. So I opened it." Her brows knitted together slightly. "And somehow, I found myself somewhere else. In your brother's dreams." She let that revelation settle before going any further.

"Unlike you, he seemed somewhat aware that I wasn't supposed to be there. Not entirely, perhaps, but enough to recognize me as an intruder." Ayla's gaze remained fixed upon his. "And if your brother were truly dead, Luis, I would not have been able to enter his mind. Undead beings can still dream. Vampires can dream. But the dead cannot. There would be no consciousness for me to enter." Her voice softened.

"Your brother is alive." She understood the enormity of what she was telling him, so she didn't rush to fill the silence that followed.

"I don't know how, and I don't know what he is. I wasn't there long enough to find out. But he was aware enough to ask whether you had sent me to spy on him." Ayla tilted her head slightly. "He knew who you were. He knew your name. Unfortunately, I began waking before I could ask him anything else, and the connection was severed. I tried to find him again the following night, but whatever pathway had opened between your dreams and his was gone." That, at least, was the complete truth. Ayla had nothing to gain from deceiving him, especially about something that so clearly carried centuries of pain.

"I am sorry," she added sincerely. "I understand that you may feel as though I've invaded something deeply personal, and you would have every right to feel that way. It was never my intention to enter your dreams, much less your brother's. Dream-walking is... unpredictable. Mystical, even by the standards of witchcraft. It takes years to truly master, and sometimes the ability seems to have intentions of its own." Ayla studied him for another moment, curiosity beginning to mingle with the concern in her expression.

"Is it possible that he was turned as well?" she asked. "Perhaps into a vampire, without your knowledge? Because if there was an actual passage connecting your dreams to his, then I don't believe this was entirely random. There is still something connecting the two of you. Something unresolved that, apparently, has been aging right alongside you both." She knew she was straying dangerously close to matters that were none of her concern, and so she raised a hand slightly. "But I won't pry. Whether we explore this any further is entirely your decision. You came here because you wanted to know something of your future, and perhaps there is a reason this happened before I ever attempted to look into it. Fate, grand design, coincidence, call it whatever you wish. Sometimes the past has an unpleasant habit of finding its way into the future."

Ayla hesitated before asking the question that had been lingering in her mind since that night.

"You said your brother died in the eighteen hundreds." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "What makes you so certain? Did you actually see his body?"

Luis’ eyes blazed with determination. He was earnest in his request, fully aware he was asking a lot of a witch that wasn’t particularly fond of the company of vampires, but she’d already given him so much that she’d earned his trust.

“I know that I probably won’t like what I see, I understand that … I’m not expecting to see a happy ending where we’re frolicking in the meadow or anything. But … I like to believe that you’re right in that regard. While I do believe in fate, I think the choices we make all end up shaping our own futures, and perhaps the knowledge of what’s to come helps shape it too. So who knows? There are things outside of my control, of course, but if you can give me a glimpse of what the future may hold, maybe it will give us a fighting chance. I want what’s best for her, not just for me.”

He hesitated for a beat. “I can pay you well. If money isn’t what you want, I don’t have much else to offer in return, other than music. But I don’t expect your help for free, so name your price.”

Ayla listened without interrupting, though there were several moments when she wondered whether she ought to. He wanted what was best for Mercy. She believed him when he said it, too, which perhaps made the entire situation all the more tragic.

Because, as far as Ayla was concerned, what was best for Mercy was likely for Luis to leave her be.

It was a cruel thought, perhaps, but not one born from any particular dislike of him. Ayla simply couldn't imagine their little romance ending anywhere other than tragedy. A vampire and a Slayer were creatures fundamentally at odds with one another, regardless of whatever affection had managed to bloom between them. Perhaps they could fight against that nature for a while. Perhaps they could even convince themselves that they had beaten it. But Ayla feared there would always come a day when one of them would be forced to choose between what they were and what they felt.

And she feared Mercy would be the one to pay the price.

Still, that was neither Ayla's decision to make nor the question Luis had asked her.

"I see..." she hummed softly, studying him for another moment before giving a small nod. "I will do what I can to bring you some insight. Though I cannot promise that what I see will be clear, nor that it will be what you hope for." She could have left it there. Perhaps she should have.

Instead, Ayla hesitated.

"But before any of that, there is something else I believe you should know." This had nothing to do with the Slayer. Nothing to do with whatever future Luis imagined with Mercy, either. It concerned something Ayla had already seen, or, more accurately, somewhere she had already been.

His dreams.

It had been an unintended consequence of creating the daylight ring for him. Ayla had handled his magic, woven her own into something meant specifically for him, and apparently that had been enough to create a temporary tether between them. The following night, she had fallen asleep only to awaken somewhere else entirely.

Inside Luis' mind.

He hadn't seemed aware of her presence. If he had been, he had given no indication of it. Ayla had remained little more than an observer wandering through fragments of someone else's subconscious, careful not to disturb anything she encountered.

Yet what she had seen there had troubled her.

There had been strange things lurking beneath the surface of his dreams. Memories tangled with fear, images distorted by guilt and uncertainty, and always the lingering presence of something, or someone, that seemed to haunt him far more deeply than he allowed anyone to see while awake.

His brother.

Ayla's expression softened, though there was something considerably more serious behind her eyes now.

"Are you certain it is your future you desire to know?" she asked quietly. "Or is it perhaps the truth about your brother that you have been searching for?" She allowed the question to settle between them before adding, almost gently, "Because I believe I can give you that, too."