I was still sitting on the front porch of Jane’s house. Jane, Frank, and I waited on Carter and Eleanor’s arrival. After I spilled the beans on my true nature, and talked about the reaction Autumn gave, it was clear that something was wrong with her. The way Frank told it, there is no way in hell she would have kept this kind of shit to herself. She would have told the family. No boyfriend or love interest would have ever been enough to keep this kind of information from them. The Autumn he knew, the girl that he watched grow up, his little niece, would have never done what she did… it carried too much weight to be ignored.

My blood pressure was starting to skyrocket. Frank’s reaction and ideas were confirming everything I had thought... that it wasn’t just me. Something wasn't right with Autumn, and it was not just from learning the news I had shared with her that night I confided in her. I berated myself internally, knowing I should have pushed harder, asked more questions, got more people involved. But it was too late for any of that.

First, I had another quick reunion to get through. Carter and Eleanor were coming. And it was only a matter of time before I saw the looks on their faces when they found out Death was behind my power. I hoped for the best.

As we waited for them to arrive, Jane and Frank stood from their chairs. And Jane offered me something that I was too shocked to accept at first.

“Let's go inside. No need for us to sit out in the cold like this,” she said, waving me towards her front door.

I stared at her, shooting glances between her and Frank. For a moment I thought maybe she just meant Frank, but then they were both staring at me. They had uncertain looks on their faces like they weren't sure what I was doing. I wasn’t sure what they were doing.

“Oh... do you mean me too?” I asked, knowing that she was certainly not offering me an invitation inside her home. There's no way she would have willingly invited me, the definition of a monstrous killer, inside her home. Into the place where I could hear small children and other people living.

“Of course, Sam, what do you think?” Jane assured me.

I waited for a second before responding, struggling to accept this invitation. “Even when I was talking with Abigail earlier, it seemed like people are watching out for me. Like I'm not supposed to get too close. I just assumed…”

Jane sighed. “I did lay out certain rules a while back, when we were first getting to know you. But after everything... I think we're past all that now. I know you've got something inside you, but so do we.” She motioned towards the house and all the people inside. “I can see the same struggle in you that we all share. It may not be a werewolf, but it's the same battle. Trying to maintain what you remember about yourself, while it tries to claw out of you.” She spoke deep from her heart. “I'm not worried about you hurting any of my family. Those fears died off a long time ago… when you brought Bran back to us.” Jane chuckled to herself lightly, “Honestly you'll probably fit in better here than anywhere else.”

I smiled at the thought. It made me feel welcome, especially coming from her.

With that, I stood slowly, really chewing on everything she had just said. I walked in through the doors of her home for the first time. Another friend, another group of people for me to get to know. It was something I never expected.

Now just because Jane was willing didn't mean everyone was going to just flock to me. Most of her family hid away in rooms, still afraid of the unknown beast that lurked inside their home. A few did stay within eyesight. The one I just met, Abigail, two small boys that looked close in age and so similar they had to be brothers. And then another little girl watching cartoons in the front living room. She seemed oblivious to everything going on. She didn't care about the events under the roof. It made me laugh a little. When we first walked in and started talking, I saw the little girl look over at us with fury in her eyes, then she grabbed the remote and turned the volume up a few notches.

Abigail, in her unexpected hospitality, offered me food, which I politely declined, though I could tell she’d prepared it with care. I sat together with them all, waiting for the Chasses to arrive, the air thick with unspoken tension. Our conversation turned to darker matters… Death and the Primeval force dwelling inside me. They had questions, of course, their eyes searching mine for answers I hadn’t yet given. I could see the uncertainty beneath their composed exteriors, their need to understand outweighing the unease my presence must have stirred in them.

I told them everything I knew; how the Primeval was not just a presence but an embodiment of destruction itself, how it changed me, and the toll it was taking on my mind and body. As I spoke, I could feel their silent reactions: the subtle widening of eyes, the brief exchange of worried glances, the way their hands clenched just a little too tightly in their laps. They were kind, but I knew the gravity of what I was saying shook them to their core.

I hoped that by being open, I could ease their anxiety, at least once the initial shock wore off. Still, no matter how accepting they tried to be, I could sense the weight of it all pressing on them. They were doing their best to shield me from their true feelings, trying to save me from the rejection I’d felt before… from Autumn. They didn’t want me to think I was unwelcome, even though this was a burden no one should have to bear.

It didn’t take long before the deep rumble of the familiar black suburban reached my ears, long before it appeared in the snow-dusted driveway of the Talbot residence. The sound cut through the quiet, the heavy tires crunching against the icy road as it approached. My heightened senses had picked them up from down the road, the distinct hum of the engine registering like a distant warning. The faint scent of exhaust mixed with the cold winter air, creeping toward us.

A moment later, Jane noticed it too. She shifted, her eyes darting toward the window, and then to Frank, who sat across the room. The tension in the room thickened, a quiet readiness settling over us as the Chasses drew near.

Jane’s gaze met mine, and we exchanged a brief but knowing look, a silent agreement passing between us. The weight of what was coming hung heavy in the air. With a slight nod, she confirmed what we both already knew. "They're about to be here," she said quietly, her voice steady but laced with anticipation, as she turned toward Frank.

I stood abruptly, my anxiety driving me to pace the room, the tension gnawing at my insides. This was a critical moment. How would they react? How would they feel once I laid it all bare? The truth… that the Grim Reaper himself was the one I was bound to, and that the monster inside me wasn’t just some creature but something ancient, powerful, and merciless; something so dark it made me the worst thing they'd ever laid eyes on.

The weight of it hit me like a freight train every time I thought about it. I stopped for a moment, drawing in a slow, deliberate breath, trying to center myself, both mentally and emotionally. This was bigger than any confession I’d ever made, and I prayed… silently, desperately… that Carter and Eleanor would take it as well as Frank and Jane had. But the fear lingered, a gnawing doubt clawing at the edges of my mind. What if they reacted like Autumn? What if they took it all in with strained smiles and kind words, only to vanish from my life like ghosts, never looking back?

Jane moved toward the front door, her steps purposeful as she prepared to welcome the two people I trusted most in this new reality. As she reached for the handle, Frank inched up beside me. He nudged me with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, trying to cut through the suffocating tension in the room.

"It'll be all right, man," he said, his voice calm, reassuring. "Carter and El? They’ll get it. If anyone can handle this kind of shit, it’s them. I don’t know why you're so worked up."

He laughed, the sound light but genuine. “El is basically your fucking cheerleader, anyway. It doesn’t matter what you are, she’s not turning her back on you.” He gave my back a solid pat, his confidence almost infectious.

I wished I could believe him just by his words. I really did. God, I hoped he was right.

----------------------------------------

"And that's everything," I said, my voice quieter than expected, as I watched Carter and Eleanor. Their expressions had been tight the whole time we spoke, but they tried to hold themselves together… breathing slowly, deliberately, as if the air was too thick with the weight of what I’d just unloaded on them. It wasn’t just controlled; it was strained, as though they were holding back something darker beneath the surface. The stress in their eyes was undeniable, the silent exchange of glances between them spoke louder than anything they could have said. They were grappling with the enormity of what I had revealed; that Death stood behind me.

Everything I had ever told Autumn, Frank, and Jane now lay bare between us: no more secrets, no more omissions. I had been speaking for hours, laying it all out in Jane’s living room, recounting every harrowing detail. The silence that followed felt suffocating. Frank and Jane were speechless at parts that they heard that I hadn’t told them yet.

Eleanor’s eyes stayed fixed on me, her brow furrowing deeper with every word that echoed in her mind. She clenched her hands in her lap, knuckles white, as if bracing herself against the flood of information she was still trying to process. Carter sat motionless, his jaw tight, the rise and fall of his chest too slow, too deliberate as if he were counting each breath. Willing himself to remain composed. But there was no mistaking the storm brewing just beneath the surface. His fingers drummed lightly on the arm of the chair, a habit I had never seen him do before.

A part of it all, I think, that was making things worse was the fact that the whole time we spoke they had to stare into my black eyes. They didn’t ask what it was about, but I made sure to tell them about the encroaching invasion that the Primeval was waging inside me. I told them about how Death had taken his blade back, allowing me the sole power of Myoordrakien to carry out the next task. It was just another drop in the bucket for me, as I vowed to unveil everything to my friends.

Jane had quietly taken charge at one point, sensing the gravity of the situation. She’d sent the kids out; Abigail, the two boys, and the youngest, Cindy. Cindy had thrown a little fit, stomping her foot in frustration when she had to leave her cartoons behind, but she eventually complied under her aunt’s firm gaze. All of them were Jane’s nieces and nephews, her brother’s kids; I had figured out when they called her Aunt Jane. I had wondered where their parents were, but those questions seemed trivial compared to the weight hanging in the air now.

I could see the turmoil in Carter’s eyes as he finally glanced at Eleanor, a wordless exchange passing between them. I wasn’t sure if it was fear, anger, or just exhaustion from carrying this new burden. They were trying to hold it together for my sake, but the cracks were showing, and I could feel the tremor of uncertainty threatening to break through their carefully maintained composure.

"I know this is... a lot," I said softly, trying to cut through the heavy silence. Eleanor swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper when she finally spoke.

"More than a lot..." she murmured, her hands shaking ever so slightly, as if the reality of everything was just starting to sink in.

My voice felt hoarse after talking for so long, uninterrupted. Explaining the depths of power I was entangled with. The places I've been, the dimensions I'd seen, the beings and primeval that I had killed in that other place. The Unseen Primeval that granted Peter his “get-out-of-jail-free card” from Death. I detailed my time in that place and told them about the heat, the razor-sharp landscape, and the gargantuan size of the true primeval. When I told them about how my own Primeval took control of my body and turned me into a titan of walking flesh and bone, they were struck with disbelief. I think it was too much… needing to see it for themselves to truly grasp the power... and the horror. I told them about how Death imbued me with his own power, making me a hybrid of myself, the Primeval, and the Death all rolled into one. Then I finally killed the Primeval and annihilated its world. It was beyond comprehension for them.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The magnitude of the information I was trying to tell them was too much. When they looked at me as I spoke the words, they just saw a man, sitting on a couch. From everything I told them, I just looked like an unassuming asshole from planet Earth. It would take time for them to really come to terms with it all. Maybe this was why Death had to let me come to the truth on my own. I can only imagine how I would have reacted if all of this was dumped on me way back then, and not experienced what I did, leading up to it.

The quiet between them was thick, laden with thoughts they weren’t quite ready to voice. Eleanor was the first to break the tension, though her words came out hesitant, as if she were still processing them herself.

"Sam..." she began, her voice soft, searching for the right way to say it. "I can’t believe this is really it." She paused, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "I mean, it makes sense... but it’s hard to grasp."

She shook her head, almost as if the movement might help her organize her swirling thoughts. “It... fits now, in a way I never expected. The way things unfolded… death trading your life for mine." Her gaze drifted inward, remembering something long buried. "Annabelle and Bartley... they always said no one could ever truly come back from the dead. That death was final. Absolute. Anything that tried to return was just... a shadow. A reflection, never the real thing. But Death, making a trade..." Her voice trailed off, and a shudder passed through her. "It makes more sense now, doesn’t it? What happened back then… Why it felt like that..."

She fell silent again, her hands still, as if holding onto an invisible weight.

Carter let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I can’t believe we’ve had this kind of power near us, with us, all this time." He sounded bewildered, his usual composure slipping. "I don’t understand how you’re even here. Alive. I’ve never heard of anything like this. Not even a whisper. Especially the part about immortality... that’s supposed to be a given, right? Vampires, and witches, they can live forever, or close to it. As long as their power holds. To hear it’s not…"

His words hung there, searching for some form of logic that didn’t seem to exist.

I repeated softly, more to myself than them, "Everything lives and dies in different strides." The words weren’t mine, but those of my predecessor, and even saying them out loud didn’t make them feel any more real for Carter.

Frank, who had been quietly absorbing it all, finally spoke, his voice low. "It changes everything, doesn’t it?" His eyes were hard, reflecting the reality that was slowly settling over them all. "Especially how we hunt. It’s... different now. We’ll see it all differently."

There was no immediate answer, only the growing realization that they were standing at the edge of something far bigger than any of them had ever imagined.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, but no one rushed to break it. There were no quick answers, no easy reassurances. Just the weight of everything they had learned, pressing down like a slow, relentless force. My mind raced, not about staying with them, but what it all meant for the future… how we could possibly move forward after this. My involvement in their family… their hunts... that was the immediate question. But beneath it, deeper than they probably realized, was my growing unease with how much they knew… and they knew too much.

I wanted them to know, but it was more than they should. More than was safe. And I’d have enemies… creatures of power and influence far beyond what any of them could grasp. If those enemies realized how close Carter and Eleanor had become to me, how much they’d uncovered... I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let them become targets of a Primeval or something like it. I didn’t want the monsters from the pits coming for them. I didn’t want Death’s targets turning their gaze toward my family, toward my friends.

I thought about the pits again. What waited there for me? It was tied to the next Primeval I would be forced to confront, the next task from Death. Whatever lurked in that abyss was my responsibility. But it wasn’t just about me anymore. If I didn’t protect our connection now, if I didn’t make sure they weren’t linked to me by the knowledge they carried, those same horrors could be turned against them. The thought gnawed at me, unsettled and raw.

Once I was done tearing the pits apart, maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t have to be so hush-hush. I wouldn’t have to worry as much. But for now, for their safety, I couldn’t let them get any closer.

"I think there’s another one down there,” I finally said, my voice low, more brutal honesty in my words than I’d allowed in a long time. “In the pits. I have to go down... find a way in and kill everything I can find. That’s my next task. That’s why I’ve been hunting, asking questions, trying to find ways to draw attention from the elders below."

I glanced at them, the unease clear in their eyes, but they didn’t say anything. Not yet.

“Charles,” I continued, “is my best bet. I’ve been trying to track him down, but Martin hasn’t heard from him since he left you. Since I killed Peter.”

I saw them flinch at the reminder, their expressions twisting in a brief flash of emotion before they masked it again. The truth was ugly, but it was necessary. The silence returned, heavier now. They understood more than they ever had before, but that was the problem. They were standing too close to the edge of something that could destroy them. I couldn’t let that happen.

The pits weren’t just mine to deal with… they were mine to protect them from.

Eleanor's question hung in the air, a quiet but probing weight. “That’s why you haven’t been around?” Her voice was calm, but there was an edge of something… sadness, maybe confusion. She knew how Autumn’s abrupt choice affected me. How much she meant to me.

I nodded, but it felt like a hollow gesture. “Partly…” The word barely left my mouth, and even then, it felt inadequate. There was so much more beneath the surface, things I couldn’t put into words without cracking open everything I had been trying to keep sealed.

Carter was next, his tone gentler than usual. “El and I… we appreciate how you stayed away. How you kept your distance from Autumn. I know that had to be hard… you two were…” He trailed off, struggling, as he always did, to say what he really meant. I knew Carter; his concern had always been for Autumn’s happiness, and her safety. I couldn’t blame him for that. What father wouldn’t want to protect his daughter from a life tangled up in death, monsters, and the unknown?

“We were close,” I admitted, though saying it aloud felt like reopening a wound I hadn’t let myself think about in months. The truth was that staying away had been harder than I wanted to admit; to them, or myself. There was a part of me that still felt like I was leaving something unresolved, something vital. But I had made a choice, and it was supposed to protect her, to protect all of them.

Carter’s voice softened. “But you don’t have to stay away from us. We’ve been through so much together… we want you close, just like before. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but your absence has felt like a weight hanging around the house. I know there’s a lot of… complexities in all this.” He paused, his words measured, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. “But I think we’ll just need time to sort through it all.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think that we could just pick up where we left off, that the distance Autumn had put between us hadn’t changed everything. But deep down, uncertainty gnawed at me, louder than any reassurance he could offer. How could things ever go back to what they were, when I wasn’t even the same person anymore? I was changing… becoming more Primeval… not after everything I’d seen, everything I had to do.

Carter was trying to steer us forward, to get to the point. “How about you explain again, the vision you saw. The one you told me about before.” His words were gentle, but there was an underlying tension. This wasn’t just a casual conversation anymore. It was the reason we were all here.

Eleanor’s eyes were full of a worry she wasn’t saying aloud. “I’d like to hear it firsthand, from you, Sam,” she said softly. Her words, though calm, carried a burden that made me hesitate. “If you don’t mind… Autumn’s been acting very unusual these last few weeks, ever since Peter was killed.” Her voice faltered, her hand unconsciously gripping the edge of the chair. “You really told her all this already? About Death… the Primeval?”

There it was, the real fear. The kind that wasn’t just about visions or monsters in the dark, but something much more personal. The kind that came from a mother watching her child slip away, feeling powerless to help. Eleanor’s expression, her wide eyes, and tense mouth, spoke volumes she couldn’t put into words. It was the fear of knowing something was deeply wrong but not knowing how to fix it. Not knowing if it could even be fixed.

And as I stood there, struggling to find the right words, that same fear twisted inside me. Because I didn’t know if there was a way back from this. Not for Autumn. Not for any of us. If this was real… it would change everything. Part of me prayed it was a huge misunderstanding. That would be more sufferable.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself to recount everything from the start. "After I finally killed the Unseen Primeval in that other realm, I was pulled back into this world. It wasn’t just some random occurrence… Death itself had intervened, showing me a vision. And with it, the name I had been seeking: Peter Grimwood. The way the vision played out, it was like they had a history, a deeper connection than merely the chaos Peter had waged on the families. I could sense a recognition in Patrick’s eyes, a familiarity far beyond the attacks Peter had led. Something more tied them together.”

"It started when I saw him step into Autumn’s dorm. He moved so casually like he belonged there, but his presence was just wrong. He didn’t just kill Autumn’s roommate… he stole the very essence of lifeforce. With a single touch, he ripped her life away. He cast her aside like a broken doll,” I shook my head as the images ripped through me again. "But Peter didn’t stop there. After the murder, he didn’t flee the scene. He walked deeper into the room, straight into Autumn’s private space, like he knew exactly what he was looking for. I could feel his obsession growing as he rifled through her things, and then he found it. A brush… There was a look in his eyes when he laid his hand on it, like a puzzle clicking into place. Whatever plan he had been constructing, this brush was a key part of it. It radiated power, even through the vision. I couldn't see what he meant for the brush, but I felt the weight of its significance. There was something ancient about it, something dark… twisted.”

I saw the reactions on their faces as I recounted the events for them. It was hard for me to bring this much discord into their lives. I knew I hadn’t done it, but I had to be the one to reveal it all. It sucked.

"And then, I saw him approach Patrick. Peter whispered things to him. And when he handed Patrick that brush, it was like he passed a curse along with it.”

Jane spoke up, after letting the family and I speak without interruption. But she had questions as well. “I never heard anything about that.” Jane looked around curious like maybe she was missing something. “Did he not tell anybody, why wouldn't he tell someone? If Peter reached out to one of us, in any way,..”

“Unless,” Carter opened with an idea, “unless the truth was much more personal between them. Once Peter died, what reason would Patrick have to keep this from any of us? The only reason I could think he would lie to any of us about this would be if Peter gave him something he valued. Something that he is benefiting from. Something he wouldn't want us to find out about.”

“Like what?” Frank asked. “What on earth could Peter have given Patrick to get him to go against his own family?”

“Wouldn’t Shelta have seen that?” Jane asked aloud.

Carter looked at me, his eyes heavy with regret. "I'm sorry, Sam. I really am. I should’ve listened to you sooner. I let things get too complicated, but that’s no excuse. We need to handle this now.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Frank growled.

We all turned to him, surprised by his sudden determination.

"How about we just question the hell out of them? I can get that little fucker to talk," Frank said coldly, clearly unfazed by any moral qualms.

Eleanor shot him a skeptical look. "If we're doing this, we have to be smart. We can’t just storm in and intimidate the boy, especially with Shelta as his sister. If she doesn’t know what we’re up to, she’ll know the moment we make a move. That’ll blow any chance we have.”

“Maybe we should bring her into this," Carter suggested, his voice tight with anger. "Tell her what we know, what Sam’s seen. If we get her talking, she might see it too… then she can question Patrick with us. It’ll be harder for him to hide anything with her there.”

“And if that brush does have some kind of power over Autumn… or both of them? What then?" I asked, trying to keep my frustration in check.

Carter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve got friends, family. We’ll figure something out. But first, we need to get that brush and see what’s going on. Shelta could help us feel it out, and see if there’s something we’re missing. It could help get her onboard as well.”

“All right, but how are we going to do this? And who’s doing the talking?” I asked. “As much as I want to knock Patrick’s fucking teeth in… it shouldn’t be me. If worst comes to worst and Autumn actually wants to be with him, me being there won’t help anything.”

Carter gave me a faint smile. “You’re right. It shouldn’t be you.”

“As for the brush, I know where it is,” I revealed, watching them all glance at me in surprise. "Patrick doesn’t have it anymore… Martin does."

They looked taken aback as if they didn’t expect me to be so far ahead in the situation. I continued, "I can’t take all the credit. Alex got it from Patrick. I spoke with her last night at Martin’s. She had the brush with her, and we showed it to Martin. He agreed to look into it.”

Eleanor frowned, confused. "How did Alex get involved with Patrick in the first place?”

“I told her my suspicions a while back when I wasn’t sure what to do,” I explained. “After everything with Peter, I thought if I brought it up too soon, Patrick would just dismiss it… deny it. So I went to Alex as a middleman. I needed her to know, just in case things got messy.”

“She’s been helping you this whole time?” Frank asked, narrowing his eyes.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hell no. She didn’t want anything to do with what I was saying at first. She’s close with Martin, and she didn’t want to risk her position at the bar. It’s important to her; keeping tabs on vampires she might have to take out one day. She thought that if she crossed the family, Martin might tell her to get lost. But after a while, she started looking into things herself. Even she admitted something didn’t add up.”

Eleanor chuckled softly. “I knew I liked that girl... well, woman, I guess. She’s probably older than me.” She corrected herself with a light grin.

Carter, pulling the conversation back together, laid it out. “So, Martin has the brush. Autumn and Patrick are still playing lovebirds, but we all know something’s off. We need to get our hands on that brush and have it examined. Then, with Shelta’s help, we confront them. We ask them hard questions. What the hell did Peter Grimwood say to you? And why did he give you this brush? The one thing he took from Autumn’s apartment. The thing he killed an innocent person for.”

Carter’s words hit like a punch, his tone brimming with conviction. He was already speaking as if Patrick were right in front of him, ready to demand answers.

“It sounds like a plan,” I said, feeling the weight of what was to come.