Summary: To escape persecution in Salem, a covenant of five blood lines was created. When one greedily seeked power, he was banished, and his blood line disappeared from history. The witch hunts evaporated, but the covenant remains to this day. And little do they know, so does the witch hunters.

A/N: I didn't get too many reviews, but I read a story. It was called Fractures, by SlytherinSecret418. And it was absolutely marvelous, and I recommend it to anyone who stumbles across Covenant fanfics. It has inspired me to elaborate on this chapter and that is why I have curbed it and made turned it into something real, and not just a teaser. So, I hope this chapter is satisfactory to those that read it. I changed quite a bit, so I figure if you want -- go ahead and read it, even if you read the teaser. Review it, because you know you love me. I was gonna incorprate the previous teaser chapter into this, but this chapter is like six pages long, so I had to cut the teaser in half -- so some of it's from the teaser, but not all. But this is the first chapter of my story, so enjoy it.

He is not human. He is an it. And unfortuantely, this transformation of a man into an it makes him scarier as well. And once the other group has become populated by its, anything goes, especially if someone in authority gives the order. Conscience still exists, may even be very exacting, but it applies only to my countrymen, my friends, and my children, not yours. You are excluded from my moral universe, and with impunity -- and maybe even praise from the others in my group - I can now drive you from your home, or shoot your family, or burn you alive.


The air was cold, the sort that gnawed at your skin even without wind, forcing you to huddle in on yourself and cling tighter to your coat, wishing you had a thicker one. Reid took a long drag at his cigarette and held the smoke in like he had taken a drag from a blunt. He waited until his lungs burnt before slowly letting the smoke leak from his nose. There was something going on over at Nicky's with Aaron and Reid didn't feel much like being ambushed. Not while he was still sober, at least. He tossed his cigarette to the side and slowly made his way toward a bar not too far from Nicky's. It would be a fine substitute. And who knew? Maybe it had a core population that was different yet just as sufficient as Nicky's.

Reid pushed open the stiff doors without breaking his stride and pulled to a stop inside of the bar. He was almost ashamed that he hadn't ever branched out before. It had always just been Nicky's..and then his dorm room. A routine that hadn't, but possibly could one day, gotten boring. The bar wasn't as big as Nicky's because it didn't provide an expansive floor that allowed dancing. It was cluttered with small tables, and stools that looked a couple of decades old. The bar counter was littered with empty beer bottles and half full classes of liquor. The bar was semi empty and Reid crossed it in a few slow strides. He tried to sum up the bartender before coming face to face with the man, trying to predict whether or not this man would card him.

Reid had known Nicky since he was ten; Nicky had been a close friend of his father's. And ever since the age of sixteen Nicky had looked the other way as he slipped Reid alcohol, sometimes free. He and Reid had a silent agreement that neither of them had ever verbally agreed on. Nicky trusted this impulsive idiot to merely not drink and drive, and Reid had barely kept up his end of the deal...but he had kept it up. His father was dead, and it was too disrespectful for Reid to damage his relationship with his father's bestfriend, a man who had been as close to his father as Tyler currently was to him.

"Can I get a beer?" Reid asked, leaning against the counter, staring straight into the bartender's dark eyes. The dark eyes bore into his icy eyes, seemingly studying him for a moment. And then the man grunted and turned away. Reid watched him pull a beer bottle out of a refridgerator beneath the bar before setting it down on the counter. Reid pulled out a ten dollar bill and dropped into on the counter. "Thanks," he murmured coolly. "Keep the change." The man grunted again, a thick hand reaching down to swipe up the money. His hooded eyes watched Reid cross the bar, eyeing the pool tables, but Reid was suddenly oblivious of the man.

"You in?" A bigger man asked the approaching blonde. The man was eye level to Reid, but he had a broad chest and thick shoulders in a way that made it obvious the man was big because of muscle and not fat. He was leaning back against the only pool table in Reid's line of vision.

"For money?" Reid asked. He had stopped, a few feet separating the two of them. Reid couldn't help being a little cautious. He had trusted people before, always trying to ignore Tyler's nagging voice in his head, and they proved to be a bit less harmless than he first had figured. Tyler, on the other hand, trusted nobody. Except Reid. he could prove to be reserved around Pogue and Caleb, but only Reid knew how he could open up. Only Reid knew how his mind worked, and his insecurities.

The man gave a short nod of his head. "Name your price." His voice was deep, thick. Manly, Reid supposed. He hoped his voice wouldn't change like that when he got older. The guy's voice got annoying, real fast; and with an annoying voice like that, it must be real hard to get laid. Reid shivered at the thought.

But Reid forced himself to ignore his problems for the time being. This guy can't know how to play pool, Reid decided. He was older than the usual population, so he couldn't have known Reid Garwin either. His problem, Reid proposed. "Fifty," Reid said immediately. With Aaron, they usually started at twenty, but steadily moved up, until Reid had won too many times and Aaron got too pissed to pay. It usually ended up in a fight, but sometimes Reid got his money -- and that's why he kept coming back.

The man gave a stiff nod and began racking up the balls of a previous game he hadn't participated in. He had been waiting for someone. Reid dropped a fifty onto the table and strode past the bigger man and observed the rack of pool sticks in great detail. He was already beginning to feel uncomfortable, like something wasn't right. Reid wasn't accustomed to the feeling and promptly ignored it while plucking a stick that mirrored all the sticks beside it. He picked up the blue chalk and twisted it bitterly on the top of the stick before dropping it back down onto the top of the rack.

When Reid turned back around to face the table he realized, with a sickening feeling, that this random nobody had been staring at him. The man's eyes immediately lightened up, but not quick enough for the shift to go unnoticed by the blonde. He had been watching him with an intense gaze that unnerved the blonde. Reid's gaze flickered across the room to the bartender who was also staring intently at him, and then it flickered back to the man standing beside the pool table. "You know what?" Reid said suddenly, placing the pool stick carefully onto the table that separated him from the bigger man. "I think I'm gonna skip out on this game," he added nonchalantly, reaching a hand forward to pluck the fifty from the middle of the table.

The bigger man's fist closed tightly around his outstretched wrist, and held it away from the money. "The stake's already on the table," the man grumbled, a raspy voice seeping through his deeper voice. Reid knew the rules. Once the money was on the table there was no backing out, but he couldn't go through with this game. Not this time, even if it made him feel like a coward. The sons of Ipswich were taught to acknowledge their gut instinct before all else, and he had been ignoring his a lot lately. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"I've got places to be," he tried again, hiding his concern with expert like skill. He skinny wrist was still enclosed in a meaty fist. "Dude --" Reid gave a jerk of his wrist, but the bigger man jerked him forward and the blonde stumbled closer a few steps. "Get off," the blonde tried again, jerking his arm back. The man didn't let go and another meaty fist enclosed the upper arm of his other arm, pulling Reid close enough that his breath danced across the blonde's cheek, burying itself somewhere in his soft hair. For the first time in his life, Reid felt dirty. He could faintly smell whiskey. "What are you --"

"Shh," the man hushed and Reid felt sickened as his voice died immediately on command. The man's fists were tightening, and Reid inwardly winced as he was pressed against the man's broad chest. The brief flickering of an idea crossed his mind. He wanted to Use. So badly, but then he saw Tyler, quietly scolding him inside his head. That was the worst part about Using, the way Tyler would look at him and shake his head, telling him how stupid he's been -- Using for stupid stuff like hustling. He hated it when Tyler was disappointed in him, and he hated that fact deeply. Reid let the idea slip away.

A fist had slipped free from Reid's arm, but Reid didn't notice it until he felt something poke into his stomach. Reid's shifty gaze dropped down, peering into the space between the two of them. There was a flash of light and Reid tried to jump back as the taser stabbed painfully into his stomach. His body shook involuntarily and he tried to recoil. The man had immediately released Reid and he fell back with a shout, landing hard on the dirty floor, the fifty dollar bill futtered to the ground, forgotten.

Reid was on his feet almost immediately, clutching his stomach tightly. He hadn't ever been electrocuted before. Reid backtracked, glancing to the left in search of an easy escape route. The bartender filled in the formerly promising gap. Reid's eyes dropped apprehensively to the object in his hands. It didn't look exactly friendly. "What are you doing?" He asked, displeased with the tremor he heard in his own voice.

"Something your ancestors taught us," the man sneered, his previously emotionaless face screwed up into a face of pure hatred. He jerked his arm forward swiftly, and a whip-like rope leapt to attention. The man struck Reid expertly, his whip wrapping easily around the struggling blonde's neck. But it wasn't just a whip, Reid soon found out, as several hundred volts of electricity was pumped into his body. Reid's body jerked spasmedically, and he stumbled closer when the particularly brutal bartender jerked hard on the whip, shaking fingers gipping the rope painfully, trying to somehow escape it's painful grasp. "You see, Mr. Garwin, we find that particular power of yours rather tiresome. But we've learned that it takes considerable concentration for it to work. With three hundred volts of electricity running through your system, your power is nonexistent." The bartender took a deep breath and sighed serenly. "Get used to this feeling, witch."

"Fuck you," Reid choked out as his struggling intensified, realization dawning. They were witch hunters. How had he missed that before? He tried to muffle his soft yelps of pain and tried to still the spasmedic jerks of his body and ignore the burning pain that radiated through the length of his form. Reid threw his body hard against the bartender and they both fell together. Reid quickly pulled back sharply, dismayed with the bartender latched onto his shirt and pulled him closer. He let the bartender catch him as is hands fumbled desperately at the whip around his neck. He managed to get it free, his eyes bleeding black immediately. But his power had been sapped and concentration was impossible. The whip crumbled in his fist, partially decomposed.

The bigger man that had suddenly disappeared before appeared behind him and snaked an arm around his waist, roughly jerking the young boy off of the bartender. Reid was thrown against the pool table, the edge cutting roughly into his back. The man paused briefly, as the bartender climbed slowly to his feet. They knew they had him cornered, and he frowned at the glee he found in their eyes. They stared calmly into his black orbs. "Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw," Reid muttered under his breath as he eyed the two witch hunters apprehensively. "Why are --" Reid began, his voice louder this time.

"You know why," the bartender interrupted. He didn't continue and Reid knew he assumed that was a good enough answer.

"I haven't broken any laws," Reid tried again. His throat vibrating uncomfortably as he spoke, the soundwaves hot in his throat and his voice come out as a hard rasp.

"Underage drinking is prohibited in this region," the bartender disagreed. "And you're a witch." He spat that last word out as if it tasted horrid.

Reid's eyes flickered across the suddenly empty bar. Where had everyone gone? "Being a witch isn't illegal," Reid snapped.

The bigger man shrugged. "Doesn't much matter, does it?"

"Well. Yeah. Kinda," Reid mumbled, standing straight, apprehensively preparing for another fight. "This is just kinda my life we're discussing here. It tends be a little important to me...I'm funny like that, I suppose."

The bartender whistled, a sadistic grin cutting his face in half. "This one's got a mouth on him."

"Sure would be fun to break," the bigger man agreed.

Reid snorted. "Good luck at that," he added, flashing them a cocky grin. Reid didn't see the movement until the whip had wrapped once more around his neck. Another whip leapt forward and enclosed Reid's ankle. With a quick tug Reid's leg was pulled ruthlessly from beneath him and he landed on his back hard. His head bounced off the ground and he laid still, blinking away black dots. He felt the power slip away as he fumbled for it and knew that his eyes had returned to icy blue. The bigger of the two men was on top of Reid before he could recover, a fist entangled in Reid's shirt front, his legs entrapping Reid's hips. If the situation hadn't been so critical, Reid would have made a sex joke. The man felt like dead weight, pinning Reid painfully to the greasy floor beneath him. He swiftly raised a fist. The punch was hard, harder than Aaron or Caleb had ever hit him, and black dots returned to dance temptatiously before his eyes. His hands weakly fumbled for the fist that was pinning him to the floor in an attempt to dislodge the hunter.

He was squirming beneath this stranger in a bar that hadn't been deserted until ten minutes ago. He was completely alone; his power had deserted him and he suddenly felt lost without it. "Get off," Reid shouted angrily, feeling the man squeeze his knees again, burying each into Reid's sides with bruising force. The man had swung back again. The hit, although Reid saw it coming, caught him off guard, and he actually let a yelp slip. "Crazy bitch," he swore. Blood was filling his mouth, making him cough. He lifted his head and spat the blood out in the man's general direction. The man pulled back and punched him again. Reid's head snapped back, connected with the ground again; a sickening thud suddenly loud. Reid's vision began to fade and black dots returned for a third time, threatening to finally expand and elimate his eyesight.

A third party that Reid hadn't noticed before appeared over the bigger man's shoulder. Reid couldn't see where the bartender had gone; maybe he had taken a seat and was currently thoroughly enjoying the show. The third party shifted uncomfortably, looking like he was about to throw up or something. "Okay, Bob. I think that's enough," he said awkwardly, inching closer to the abrasive hunter and the dazed boy. But even Reid could hear the slight tremor in his voice. Reid vaguely wondered if this was how Tyler would respond, should Reid actually attempt to beat Aaron to death. He suddenly hoped not. He didn't want a walking, talking shadow of himself anymore. "Marvin wants these kids alive -- and that one won't last much longer if you keep --"

"Shut up, Charlie," the hunter identified as Bob snapped, throwing a disgusted look over his shoulder. Reid saw Charlie visibly flinch back, their eyes momentarily locking before Reid's vision turned red as blood obscurred his sight. "We know what these things can do," Bob went on. "I'm just making sure this one here doesn't try anything on me," he sneered, returning his gaze back to Reid, who had lifted a heavy hand and poked himself in the eye as he tried desperately to claw away the blood. He swore under his breath and he rubbed his eye gingerly.

"Le' me up," Reid slurred, his voice disgruntled and weaker than he could ever remember hearing it before. "Crushing," he gasped out, trying to squirm for emphasis. He knew his face was a colorful mixture of blood and forming bruises. He didn't want to have to see himself like that, but even so, the heavy hand that was oddly gaining weight clumsily slid across his face, moving from his still stinging eye to fumble over a particularly throbbing cut on his head that Bob's ring had dealt him. His hand came away bloody and he grimaced. "Can't breath," he said quietly, feeling his eyes close ever so slightly.

"Jeez," Charlie grimaced. "You're killing the boy, Bob." His eyes uncomfortably roamed over Reid's bloodied face. "Just...just c'mon, let him up. There ain't no way that boy is escaping, Bob. Don't be so cruel."

Bob shook his head, disgusted at his companion and the Bartender snickered in the background. Bob was always an adament hunter, and all three parties knew Bob was close to make a speech. "This thing goes around threatening the lives of all others. How can you treat him like he has a right to be treated fair. This thing doesn't have any rights. He's worst than a rabied animal."

Reid wanted to argue. To say 'No, I'm really not. I'm bodily aware of my actions. I'm not all that bad, really.' But the words failed him and floated away before he could force them into a sentence structure. Reid's eyes fluttered open and he shook his head, stopping abruptly as a wave of nausea threatened him with bodily harm and extreme discomfort. "I don' hur' shi'," he mumbled, his voice pleasantly holding a sharp edge.

"I saw you torturing that student last week," Bob argued. "I saw the glee in your eyes, as you engaged in an unfair fight."

"You see my eyes?" Reid asked slowly, trying to pronounce the words correctly. "I didn't rig the fight. I didn't even start it. I'm a fucking teenager, for fuck's sake."

"You may look like one," the bartender agreed, sauntering closer to the group. "But that don't mean you still ain't a slave of Satan's.

"Christ," Reid swore, squirming indignantly beneath Bob. Bob wouldn't admit this to a living soul, but he liked the frustrated noises Reid was making as he tried to heave the heavier man off of him. It was the sound of lost. This boy was losing; that very thought brought a smile to Bob's face.

"My family ain't even fucking Christian. The devil isn't kind've nonexistent to us. Assholes." Bob's smile grew wider, darker and he felt the boy shiver beneath him. "Don't fucking smile at me like that, you fucking creeper," Reid snapped, suddenly very conscious, the pain ebbing away his mentality.

"I predict I'm gonna have fun with this one," Bob said suddenly, his eyes burning into Reid's. He leant forward, his weight shifting uncomfortably on Reid's chest. He leant forward until Reid could feel the man's breath against his ear. "I'm gonna see you burn," he hissed. "But you're gonna beg for the stake before I'm done with you," he promised.

Reid's struggles redoubled. He punched out, knowing that his strength was deflated. His fist found a soft spot along Bob's ribs and the hunter doubled over as the breath was forced from him. Reid violently twisted to his side, bucking the man off of him. He then proceeded to bound his feet quickly and stumble away. The bartender was moving before Reid could duck below a table. A whip shot out and latched onto his ankle again, tripping him up in midstride, and sending him crashing to the floor. Even with electricity coursing through his body he tried to drag himself away. The bartender was relentless and jerk hard on the whip, dragging him painfully across the floor. Bob was on his feet once more and kicked out a foot, catching Reid in the chest. Reid bit back a yelp and caught Bob's foot the next time he tried to kick out. Reid ruthlessly twisted the outstretched foot and shoved Bob away when he heard a sickening crack and the shout of a sadisitc hunter.

The bartender had bent down, meaty fingers grabbing Reid's leg tightly, violently twisting the leg, spinning Reid onto his back and pulling him closer than the whip could. Reid lifted his free leg and kick out hard, catching the bartender in the face. He stumbled back, clutching his nose but Reid could see the crimson seeping through fat fingers. Reid sat up quickly, bloody hands fumbled to unravel the whip, jerking as his hands were shocked in the process. He gripped the whip handle in his hand so hard that it started to hard and then he stumbled to his feet. He threw a quick glance toward Charles, who had merely backed away from the preceedings. But Reid wasn't cruel and quickly turned his back to the harmless third party before limping quickly to the door. He knew the bartender was following him and he waited until the bartender had left the bar before glancing over his shoulder and sending the bartender back through the glass door.

Reid didn't have a car because his mother refused to buy him another car after he'd crashed his previous two; and Tyler had left town two days ago to visit some dying aunt...somewhere. Reid was suddenly glad that Tyler would be far removed from the sudden but seemingly inevitable violence. Nicky's was just a few hundred yards away, and Reid tried to jog for it, stumbling and falling several times before crashing through Nicky's doors. It was nearing five am and the crowd inside of Nicky's was nearly nonexistent, but those that were there glanced at Reid. He could vaguely recognize several students from school, and then he saw Aaron. Even Aaron looked slightly alarmed, until his shiteater grin slid into place. Reid ignored him and stumbled up to the bar. He had patted down his pockets as he was crossing the space between the two bars, swearing loudly when he found no phone. He couldn't even remember if he had brought his phone -- but if he had, he knew it was suicide to go back for it now. "I need to use the phone," he said, his voice low and raspy, feeling Aaron Abbott's eyes on his back, and distantly hearing his name murmured in Kira's voice. He leant heavily against the bar, pressing trembling hands hard against the counter.

"What the hell happened to you, Garwin?" Nicky asked, eyeing Reid suspiciously. Reid could remember when Nicky had referried to his father as Garwin; when Nicky used to call him Reid. He couldn't remember when he'd suddenly became a Garwin, but he knew it was after his father's death.

"None of your business," Reid answered, vaguely aware of the seemingly rude edge to his voice. "I need to use your phone," he repeated, trying to soften his voice.

Nicky shrugged off Reid's bloodied appearance and his slightly rude attitude. He jerked his head to the back and lifted the bar door so Reid could pass. Reid knew his way around well enough to not need an escort; how often had Nicky let his dad ditch him here while his dad had to go to work? He found the phone in Nicky's office, where it had always been and quickly dialed Caleb's number. Caleb answered on the first ring.

"Lost your phone again?" His voice held an edge that Reid was all too use to. Caleb knew that Reid wouldn't have gone through the trouble of finding another phone unless it was something important. Or something Reid thought was important.

"I need a ride," Reid said into the phone, biting back a groan as he sat gingerly down in Nicky's chair. Nicky had had this chair forever but Reid hadn't ever seen him sit in it. Not once.

"I'm busy, Reid," Caleb's voice sounded tired and Reid could easily pick out the annoyance immediately. "Why isn't Tyler with you?"

"He's still out of town," Reid answered immediately. "Just give me a ride, Caleb," he said firmly into the phone. "And I can explain everything --"

"What's wrong with you?"

Reid was slightly taken off guard by Caleb's sudden prying question. It wasn't like Caleb to sift through everybody's business...quite so personally. "What?" He asked distantly. "Nothing." His voice almost sounded casual, but Reid could hear his own tremor racking across his voice.

"Your voice sounds weird," Caleb went on. "Like you have a cold or something."

Reid cleared his throat, grimacing as pain flared up. "Thanks for the confident booster," he muttered into the phone. "Just give me a fucking ride," he added before hanging up. Reid found his way to the employee bathroom that was in the back of the bar and switched on the light. He wet a piece of toliet paper and dabbed gently at his face, trying to wash away the accumulated blood. But even without the blood, he looked terrible. There was a cut on his temple that looked like it needed stitches and wouldn't stop blood. The hair above the cut was tinged red, a thick streak of crimson make it's way down the side of his face. His cheek was deep pink, a deep cut in the middle of the shiner. His lip was bleeding, a deep cut reminding him that he had accidently bit through it. He knew his head was bleeding from where he had hit it on the ground. His neck was red and had definite lines where the whip had cut into him, and he didn't need to look to know that even though he had been wearing jeans, his leg was red too. He couldn't help himself anymore than he already had and he couldn't busy himself anymore than he already did, and he couldn't ignore the foreign feeling rising in the pit of his stomach; a feeling that was threatening to suffocate him. Fear.