Rebecca’s grin widened, and Kaine imdiately regretted his decision.
"I want you to tell sothing you’ve never told anyone else," she said. "But here’s the catch—you have to tell while we’re doing sothing normal people do at four in the morning."
"Which is?"
"Raiding your kitchen for terrible snack food and watching bad late-night television."
Kaine looked toward his kitchen, ntally cataloging its contents. "I don’t really have snack food."
"What do you have?"
"Coffee. Protein bars. So leftover Chinese takeout that’s probably questionable."
"Perfect. Mystery takeout and whatever passes for late-night programming. Co on, hunter boy. Ti to live dangerously."
They migrated to the kitchen, where Rebecca imdiately began investigating his cabinets with the enthusiasm of an archaeologist discovering ancient artifacts. She erged with a box of crackers that had been sitting unopened for months and what appeared to be the last remaining protein bar from a bulk purchase he’d made soti in the previous season.
"This is sad," she announced, examining the protein bar’s expiration date. "Even for soone who fights monsters professionally, this is depressingly sad."
"I don’t spend much ti here."
"Clearly." She opened the crackers, offering him the box. "Okay, television ti. And rember, you owe a secret."
As they walked back, she took a look at Kaine and stopped.
"You know," Rebecca said, studying his face in the morning light, "you and Marcus both look like you haven’t seen sunlight in about six months. I get that the hunting thing is mostly a night job, but when’s the last ti either of you spent ti outside during actual daylight hours?"
Kaine glanced toward the bedroom where Marcus was still sleeping. "We’re not really the outdoor type."
"I’m not talking about hiking or beach volleyball. Just... normal human sun exposure. You’re both practically translucent." She reached over and touched his forearm. "Seriously, when did you last see your own shadow?"
"It’s the lighting in here," Kaine said quickly. "These old fluorescent bulbs make everyone look like they’re dying."
"Nice try, but I’ve seen you during the day too," Rebecca countered, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Granted, you’re usually wearing enough layers to outfit an arctic expedition, so I couldn’t be completely sure. But your face and hands? Definitely pale." She gestured between him and the bedroom. "Both of you have that whole ’I work the night shift at a morgue’ aesthetic going on."
Kaine looked down at his hands, trying to think of another deflection that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.
"Maybe we should invest in so vitamin D supplents," he said finally.
Kaine’s TV was small and old, the kind of thing soone bought when they needed background noise more than entertainnt. Rebecca commandeered the remote, cycling through late-night programming until she found what appeared to be a marathon of cooking shows from the 1980s.
They settled back onto the couch, sharing the crackers and watching a woman with enormous hair explain the intricacies of sothing called "ambrosia salad" to an audience that seed genuinely excited about marshmallows and canned fruit.
"This is deeply weird," Rebecca observed, gesturing at the screen with a cracker. "But also kind of hypnotic. I can’t look away."
"Is this what normal people do at four AM?"
"Normal people are usually asleep at four AM. This is what people who can’t sleep do." She turned to face him, tucking one leg under herself. "Speaking of which—secret ti. Sothing you’ve never told anyone."
Kaine watched the television host demonstrate proper marshmallow folding technique while he considered the question. There were plenty of secrets he’d never told anyone, ranging from professional discretion to personal history he preferred to keep buried. But sitting here, sharing stale crackers and watching cooking shows with soone who’d responded to learning about his profession with enthusiasm rather than horror or so form of apprehension, the usual barriers felt less necessary.
"I wanted to be a teacher," he said finally.
Rebecca’s eyebrows rose. "That’s... not what I was expecting."
"High school history. I had plans, before everything changed. College degree, certification program, the whole thing." He paused, rembering the person he’d been before supernatural threats beca his primary concern. "I used to think about lesson plans. How to make the Civil War interesting for teenagers who’d rather be anywhere else."
"What happened?"
"Life happened. Other priorities." Kaine glanced at her, then back at the television. "So things matter more than career plans."
"Do you ever think about going back to it?"
"Sotis. But hunters don’t really get to retire and pursue other interests."
Rebecca was quiet for a mont, and he could feel her studying his profile while the cooking show host moved on to sothing involving gelatin molds.
"That’s a good secret," she said eventually. "Sweet, but also kind of heartbreaking."
"Your turn."
"Truth or dare?"
"Truth," she said imdiately.
"What’s the one thing you miss most about your old life?"
Rebecca was quiet for a long mont, her fingers tracing the rim of her empty mug.
"The certainty," she said finally. "I know that sounds crazy, considering how miserable I was, but there was sothing comforting about knowing exactly what every day would look like. Wake up at six-thirty, coffee with two sugars, check emails before breakfast, sa route to work every morning." She looked up at him. "Even when I hated it, at least I knew what to expect."
"And now?"
"Now I wake up every day not knowing if my neighbor’s going to co ho covered in blood or if I’m going to hear sothing trying to break down my door at three AM." She smiled, but there was sothing wistful in her expression. "It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the sa ti."
"Most people would just want the certainty back."
"Maybe I’m not most people.
Kaine nodded, staring at her for a second.
They fell into comfortable silence, watching soone explain the proper way to arrange vegetables in aspic while sharing the last of the crackers. The cooking show gave way to what appeared to be a docuntary about deep-sea fishing, which sohow proved equally srizing.
"Truth or dare," Rebecca said during a particularly dramatic segnt about tuna migration patterns.
"Dare." The word surprised him as much as it seed to surprise her.
"Really?" She asked.
"Really."
Rebecca grinned, and Kaine realized he was beginning to recognize that particular expression as a warning sign.
"I dare you to show what you do when you can’t sleep."
"What I do?"
"Everyone has sothing. Reading, pushups, organizing closets, whatever. What do you do when your brain won’t shut off and you’re just lying there thinking about everything wrong with the world?"
Kaine considered this, trying to rember the last ti he’d had trouble sleeping for reasons that weren’t directly related to physical exhaustion or supernatural threats.
"I clean weapons," he said finally.
"Show ."
"Show you?"
"You heard , hunter boy. Show how you clean weapons at four-thirty in the morning when the world feels too heavy."
He led her to the bedroom, where Marcus was laying down with a stillness that made Kaine wonder for a second if Ghouls actually needed rest or if they just went dormant for convenience. Rebecca barely glanced at the motionless figure before focusing on the weapons case that dominated one wall of the room.
"That’s... extensive," she whispered, apparently rembering that soone was trying to sleep a few feet away.
Kaine selected a knife from the collection, sothing simple and practical that hadn’t seen recent use. Back in the living room, he retrieved a cleaning kit from a drawer Rebecca probably hadn’t noticed, settling cross-legged on the floor with the tools spread in front of him.
"It’s not exciting," he warned her.
"I don’t need exciting. I need to understand."
She watched as he disassembled the knife, laying out each component. His movents were automatic, the kind of muscle mory that ca from months of late-night repetition.
"It’s ditative," Rebecca observed, settling beside him on the floor. "Like knitting, but with more potential for accidental amputation."
"The routine helps. Having sothing to do with your hands while your mind processes everything else."
"What are you processing right now?"
Kaine paused in his cleaning, considering the question. "Tonight’s hunt. Whether I made the right calls, whether there was anything I missed, whether the vampire I killed was part of sothing bigger."
"And?"
"And wondering if I should be concerned that my neighbor isn’t remotely bothered by any of this."
Rebecca laughed quietly. "Oh, I’m bothered. Just not in the way you probably expect." She watched him reassemble the knife casually. "It’s more like... fascination than fear."
"Most people would be afraid. I run the risk of getting turned every night I step out there,"
"Most people don’t spend five years married to soone who collected vintage firearms as a hobby. You learn to appreciate craftsmanship and maintenance routines." She gestured at his cleaning kit. "Besides, there’s sothing comforting about watching soone take care of their tools. Shows they respect what they do."
The fishing docuntary had given way to early morning news, though neither of them was paying attention to the television. They’d moved through another round of truth or dare, with Rebecca daring him to make coffee at five AM ("because normal people drink coffee in the morning, even if they haven’t slept") and Kaine asking her to tell him about the last ti she’d been genuinely happy.
"Road trip," she’d said imdiately. "Last sumr, before everything fell apart. I drove up the coast by myself, no destination, no schedule. Just and the highway and terrible gas station coffee." She’d smiled at the mory. "I stayed in this awful motel in so tiny town, and there was this diner next door that served pie for breakfast. The waitress was probably seventy years old and called everyone ’honey,’ and I sat there eating apple pie at eight in the morning thinking this was the most perfect mont I’d ever experienced."
"What made it perfect?"
"The possibility. Like anything could happen next."
Now they were curled together on the couch, Rebecca’s head finding its way to his shoulder soti during a particularly boring segnt about municipal water treatnt. Kaine had ant to stay awake, ant to maintain the careful distance he usually kept between himself and anyone who might beco a complication.
Instead, he’d fallen asleep to the sound of her breathing and the soft murmur of late-night television.
He woke to sunlight streaming through his windows and the much louder sound of morning news. Rebecca was still asleep against his shoulder, her hair spilling across his chest, one hand curled against his arm. The comfortable weight of her was unfamiliar but not unwelco.
The television was broadcasting what appeared to be breaking news, the kind of urgent morning programming that suggested sothing significant had happened overnight. Kaine reached carefully for the remote, trying not to disturb Rebecca while turning up the volu.
"—third victim discovered early this morning in the industrial district," the news anchor was saying. "Like the previous two victims, the body showed evidence of severe blood loss and what police are describing as ’distinctive markings’ carved into the torso."
The cara cut to a cri scene reporter standing outside a building Kaine recognized. He’d been around that neighborhood less than six hours ago, hunting the vampire whose blood construct had ruined his shirt.
"While police aren’t releasing details about the investigation, sources close to the departnt confirm that each victim has been found with carved symbols—an X for female victims, an O for male victims. The pattern suggests these deaths may be connected to what authorities are calling ’ritualistic activity.’"
Rebecca stirred against his shoulder, mumbling sothing incoherent before her eyes opened. She blinked up at him, looking montarily confused about where she was, then smiled with the kind of sleepy contentnt that made Kaine’s chest feel unexpectedly tight.
"Morning," she said softly, then noticed the television. "What’s—oh. Work calling?"
On the screen, the reporter was interviewing soone from the police departnt who was trying very hard not to confirm that they were dealing with sothing supernatural while also not lying to the dia.
"Looks like it," Kaine said, though his attention was divided between the news report and the warm weight of Rebecca against his side.
She sat up, running her fingers through her hair and studying the television with the kind of focus that suggested she was connecting dots.
"X and O," she said thoughtfully. "That’s not random, is it?"
"Probably not."
"It’s a ga. Tic-tac-toe." Rebecca turned to look at him, her expression serious despite her sleep-mussed appearance. "Soone’s playing a ga, and people are dying."
The news report continued, but Kaine was no longer listening. Rebecca was right—this wasn’t random violence. Soone was sending a ssage, creating a pattern, turning murder into entertainnt.
And based on the location of the latest victim, it may be connected to last night’s hunt.
"I have to go," he said, though he made no imdiate move to get up.
"I know." Rebecca leaned against him for another mont, then pulled away reluctantly. "Be careful, okay? Gas have rules, but they also have winners and losers."
"I’ll be careful."
"Good." She stood, stretching and looking around his apartnt as if seeing it in daylight for the first ti. "This was nice. The talking, I an. And the terrible late-night television."
"Yeah," Kaine agreed, surprised to realize he ant it. "It was."
Rebecca headed toward the door, then paused with her hand on the handle.
"Truth or dare," she said.
"Truth."
"Will I see you again? Not just in the hallway, but actually see you?"
Kaine looked at her standing in his doorway, morning light highlighting the curve of her smile and the hope in her expression. Six hours ago, she’d been a complication he wanted to avoid. Now she felt like sothing else entirely.
"Yeah," he said. "You’ll see again."
Her smile widened. "Good. Try not to get any more blood on your clothes today, okay? That shirt looked expensive."
After she left, Kaine sat in the sudden quiet of his apartnt, watching the news report cycle through the sa information while his coffee grew cold. Marcus erged from the bedroom, moving with his characteristic silence, and settled into the chair Rebecca had vacated.
"Interesting night," Kaine said.
"She’s not what I expected." He added with no particular response from Marcus.
On the television, the news had moved on to weather and traffic, but Kaine’s mind was still processing the implications of the carved symbols and their connection to last night’s hunt. Three victims, a clear pattern, and he has to find it.
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