PRETTY MONSTROUS TO ME | MILO & KADEN
PLACE: Coffee Plus TIMING: 10:23 PM SUMMARY: Milo and Kaden cross paths for the second time, and Kaden tells Milo exactly what he thinks of vampires WRITING PARTNER: @chasseurdeloup CONTENT WARNINGS: Brief mention of parental death
It was late; too late for most people to be in a coffee shop. That didn’t stop Kaden from slinking into the seat, covered in mud and grime from a long day’s work. There was still more to do. He was off the clock for the WCPD but there were monsters to track and take down. He thought about putting it off, going home and going to bed, leaving it for someone else, but what else was he really doing? Nothing much important. Coffee Plus was quiet, save for the soft sounds of whatever indie music was playing in the background and the small clicks and clangs of the baristas working and cleaning as they went; all very different from the chaos of the day. Kaden sipped his espresso, allowing himself the few minutes of a break, settled in and relaxed. Until the call of a name from the counter made him jump a little in his seat. “Milo!” the barista called out in a shrill, harsh voice. It wasn’t her fault, that was probably just her voice, but it hit his ear like a brick. Kaden grumbled and turned in his seat to see if that was going to be the only order of the night or if he was going to have to relocate. His brow furrowed when he saw the kid walking to get his order. He looked familiar. But where had he seen-- Kaden perked up in his seat, all hope of rest and relaxation gone. “Milo?” he called out as the kid walked past his table. “Hey, why don’t you sit down? Got some space here. And I think we have a few things to talk about.”
Milo knew visiting a coffee shop so close to midnight could be considered odd, but he was still able to pass as a student, and the reason the café stayed open so late was specifically to cater for late night study sessions. Though he didn’t have any evidence of work he knew most people would assume he was buying coffee to fuel an essay, or a manuscript of some kind. Honestly, that would be far more believable, and far less pathetic than the truth. His coffee runs were a vain, and desperate attempt to reclaim an element of the life he had lost. Tapping his fingers absentmindedly against the counter as he waited for his caramel latte, he thought nothing of the scents permeating the air. Familiar people, familiar foods, he even recognised the sharp tang of the cleaning products used by the staff every morning. Which was why, as he collected his drink and brushed past a nearby table, he was genuinely surprised to hear somebody other than the barista call out his name. Faltering, sure he must have heard the stranger wrong, he turned to face them with a questioning smile. A smile that soon faltered as he realised exactly who he was looking at. He knew who the man was the moment he caught his eye. Hazy memories of Dani, and wooden stakes returning to him with enough force to make his knees weak. He had worked so hard to forget, to push the experience to the very back of his mind. And now he was being forced to confront what had happened.
Swallowing, his grip on his drink tightening as he considered how much danger he was in, he knew he didn’t have a choice but to grant the request. If he left now, he would only be followed. He was far safer in the very public café, surrounded by people looking for their caffeine fix. “Dani’s gone.” He said, his voice guarded, and careful. “If that’s what you’re going to ask me about.” He would be an idiot if he thought the man before him wanted to ask him about his childhood friend, but he longed for it to be true. If he could only push the conversation in a direction that didn’t involve threats, or mentions of monsters... Taking a deep breath, he exhaled through his teeth before begrudgingly pulling out a chair. Sitting down slowly, as though any fast movements might result in a stake through the heart, he held the man’s gaze, refusing to back down no matter how badly he wanted to. “Say what you need to say. My roommate is waiting for me to come home…”
“Noted,” Kaden said, taking a careful sip of his coffee as he evaluated any potential threat in the situation. The kid seemed compliant enough. No, kid wasn’t right. He had been a kid, sure, but now he was dead. Something else. But this was still a public space and the supernatural was meant to stay secret. Not to mention that Kaden didn’t like the idea of getting a murder charge on his head. The police wouldn’t know that this was a monster, that any death had happened already and what Kaden would be doing was a kindness. It wouldn’t matter to them. So for now, he’d bide his time. “But that’s not what I was going to ask.” He swallowed down the bitter beverage before leaning back in his chair. It was clear enough for the moment that the vampire wasn’t going to run. Might not last but for now, he had control. “You know your friend didn’t really like me much.” He shrugged. “Then again, didn’t look like she liked you that much when I ran into you both.” His gaze hardened as he looked the monster sitting across from him in the eye. There were plenty of things he wanted to ask but that was the drawback to being in public. “How are you eating?” he asked, pointedly. “Well fed?” His words were laced with venom but the tone was casual enough that a passer-by wouldn’t pick up on the strange nature of the situation.
Milo understood the moment the man opened his mouth that he really wasn’t interested in discussing Dani. As difficult as it was to talk about his failed friendship, it was much easier than dwelling on the fact that the person sitting opposite him, sipping innocently on a cup of coffee, wouldn’t hesitate if he was given the chance to kill him. He repressed a shudder, not wanting to appear weak, or vulnerable. Taking a sip of his own coffee, feeling the heat of it burn his tongue, he used the pain to ground himself, to distract himself from the uncomfortable situation. The caramel syrup was sweet, just strong enough for him to taste it, though the flavour was muted, and disappointing. “You’re right. She didn’t like me.” He agreed, still able to recall the look of disgust on Dani’s face when she had first come to realise what he was. “It doesn’t matter, not anymore.” It was a lie. It was always going to matter. But this stranger didn’t need to know how much he was hurt. Setting his jaw at the sudden question, he continued to pointedly glare. “Hi. I’m Milo, it’s nice to meet you too.” He muttered, drawing attention to the fact that he didn’t even know his company’s name. “Do you really think I would be here if I wasn’t okay?” It frustrated him, being treated as though he was dangerous. Mainly because it drew attention to the fact that he was. He was reminded briefly of Bex, of how close he had come to seriously hurting her, and then of Mina. How he had only recently stopped drinking her blood because his body was screaming for sustenance. He could hear the man’s judgement, the sharp tone that indicated his level of disgust could quite possibly rival Dani’s, and he did what he could to ignore it. “I don’t-” He broke off, lowering his voice before speaking again, carefully choosing his words so that other people frequenting the café wouldn’t hear anything unusual. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m not a bad person… not that anything is ever going to convince you of that.”
“I figured that out,” he said as he nodded to the cup. “They called your name, remember?” Kaden blinked a moment, realizing what Milo was implying. “Ah. So you want my name, huh?” He leaned back a little further and hesitated a moment, considering the options. Giving away his identity might be fair, but the battle against the supernatural was far from that. Dani knew his name, though. He supposed Milo could ask her. Or honestly anywhere around town. He sighed. It wasn’t worth keeping his name close to his chest, it’s not like it made a difference anyway. “Kaden,” he said starkly. “And okay means different things to different people.” He sat up a little straighter, crossed his arms in front of his chest, lifting his chin as he looked down at the undead boy across the table. “It doesn’t matter what you want.” His words were sharp and biting like the aftertaste of the espresso on his tongue. “You can’t change what you are.” A dagger of truth pierced through him as he realized how often he’d thought the same about himself. Didn’t matter. Not right now.
“You’re not--” Kaden cut off his words and sighed. “I mean, you’re different. Not exactly a person.” He brought his voice low and quiet, but he knew the vampire could hear him all the same. “You died. Good or bad, doesn’t matter. You’re not a person.” Regan flashed into his mind. It was something that she had said about herself. And he’d argued against her. Vehemently. No. That was different. She was alive, she’d never died. Sure, her skin was cold to the touch, her heartbeat slowed, and yeah, alright, she had wings. But she was a person. This? In front of him? That was different. He’d had a life. And it ended. At least, it should have. His jaw clenched as Morgan came to mind. His knuckles went white as his fingers dug into his palms, pushing it all away. He wasn’t Morgan or Regan. Those were exceptions. This was a vampire. That another hunter had marked. He was sure she’d done it for good reason. And so he was resolved in his opinion. For now.
Milo would have laughed if he didn’t feel so tense, amused by his company missing his sarcasm. But he maintained his stony expression, watching as the stranger seemed to contemplate whether giving his name could be considered a dangerous mistake. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting him to do with the information. He only wanted to know what to call him. Kaden. He committed the name to memory, somewhat grateful for the scrap of trust, despite knowing it didn’t mean very much. “No shit.” He muttered. “Because okay is different for everyone.” Metzli’s version of okay was very different to his own, as was Macleod’s, and Bex’s, and Mina’s. It didn’t make them any less valid. And it certainly didn’t make their definitions wrong. His hard expression softening without his permission, he couldn’t hide the way Kaden’s words cut through him. He knew he couldn’t change what he was, why else would he be fighting so hard to learn how to accept it? He didn’t need another person in his life telling him he was essentially doomed to misery. And then Kaden was following up, insisting that not only could he do nothing about his vampirism, it made him less than. He wasn’t human, he understood that. But not being a person had so many implications, painful implications that seemed to claw at his chest. He felt his eyes sting, and he blinked away tears before they could form.
“And how would you define a person?” He did what he could to keep his voice steady. “My body changed, but everything that made me who I am is the same. I’m sure it makes it easier for you to kill people in cold blood, telling yourself that. But I’m no different to you in every way that could possibly matter.” Noticing the way Kaden’s hands balled into fists, knuckles turning white with the pressure of his grip, it was a stark reminder of how strong he was. This man was more than capable of causing him harm. There was no relation that might cause him to hesitate, no history, or love there like there had been with Dani. “How would you feel? If somebody told you- if somebody decided you were nothing because of something you couldn’t control?”
“Sure. But I have a feeling that being drained and sucked dry of all their blood isn’t really okay for anyone.” Kaden’s gaze was hard and unrelenting. He held it even as he brought his coffee to his lips again to take a sip. Too many people in this town gave every supernatural who looked human a free pass, forgetting what they were and what they were capable of. He’d been slipping into that trap himself lately. He might be able to acknowledge that there were exceptions to the rule that all supernatural creatures were monsters, but they were exceptional. Not everyone could be that. He couldn’t allow them the benefit of the doubt. Not when lives were at stake.
“You died,” he repeated. “And the only way you can live is by killing humans at worst and endangering them at best. Neither of which are things I plan to let lie. You had your shot to live. You were a person. And I’m sorry it wasn’t as long as it should have been but life’s not fair.” It was rare that Kaden ever put himself into these sorts of situations, the ones that made things complicated. Still, it was easy enough with the undead. They did at least have a life, a real one, a human one; before all this. And it was over now. He was just correcting things, setting everything right again with nature.
Kaden huffed out a laugh, nearly rolling his eyes at Milo’s little speech. Not different than him, sure. Alright. There was one commonality in this, though. “You really think I haven’t been on the other end of it? You know how many monsters and bleeding hearts in this town like to spin this shit on me?” He shook his head. “Difference is I’m human. That simple. I don’t have to kill anyone to survive. Or lose control when the moon gets full. I’m not a monster.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions.” Milo scowled, annoyed by the fact that so many people immediately assumed he drank from human victims. There were other options, but he supposed it was far easier to see somebody as a threat when you denied the ways for them to avoid putting others in danger. If vampires made a conscious effort, could you really call them callous, and cruel? Could they be considered animals if you knew they didn’t want to be violent? “How do you think I died?” He demanded. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to say. In a way he was proving Kaden right. Some vampires did walk around draining people of their blood until their hearts could no longer continue beating. But having been through the fear, and the pain, he refused to be the reason another Human suffered the same fate. It made him more determined, more concerned about his sense of self control. “I’m not putting anybody else through that... I care.”
Lowering his gaze, staring down at his coffee as he was told, in no uncertain terms, that his life was over, it was difficult to hear somebody tell him he should be dead. Really dead. Especially given the faux sense of sympathy that seemed to be emanating from Kaden. “I’m not a danger.” He insisted. He had made more than a few mistakes, he was still learning how to navigate his new life, but every day granted him more awareness, more knowledge, and control. Even Humans could be dangerous under the right circumstances, so why should this be any different? You had your shot to live. You were a person. He couldn’t stop his throat from constricting. The past tense made him want to cry, and shout, and break things. It made him want to stand on the table and scream that he was still here, he was still Milo Summers. But he was forced to stay seated, to maintain what little composure he had. Flinching suddenly at the sound of laughter, he felt a tear finally break free, and angrily swiped it away. This wasn’t funny, nothing about his situation was funny, yet he was being laughed at. Laughed at for claiming he was the same person he always had been. “I’m not spinning anything. Have you ever stopped to consider those people were just being honest? And you were too blinded by your twisted view of the world to listen to them?” He felt a cold chill run down his spine as he realised these were people who had very likely died by Kaden’s hand. Was he next on the list? Just another nameless creature of the night the world would be better off without? “You don’t have to kill, but you do… sounds pretty monstrous to me.”
“I’ve been around a while. I’ve seen it all.” Kaden had outlived plenty of hunters. Hell, he’d outlived Walker. The thought of Adam put a lump in his throat, but he swallowed it back. No one else was dying on his watch, not if he could help it. He’d keep this place safe; safe as he could manage it. He didn’t quite care if that made him unpopular among monsters. “You still have to live off humans to survive. Doesn’t matter how you died or how you were turned or if you never turn another human into a monster.”
Kaden rested his arm on the table, leaned in. “You are a danger,” he said, words sharp, cutting right down to the point. “Maybe not right this second, maybe not even this week or month. Maybe not even this century. But one day you won’t be in control. And then you will be.” If there was one thing he was certain of, that was it. Monsters could never hold onto control. It wasn’t possible. Sure, alright, he’d found a handful of exceptions in town like Ari and Morgan, hell even Regan. But that’s all they were: exceptions. They had no delusions of what they were, how much they could hurt someone, the danger they were. “No one can maintain perfect control forever. No one. And you’ll live forever if we let you. Hundreds, thousands, hell, millions of chances to kill someone. And you think it’s never going to happen?”
The ranger was pretty sure the question answered itself. But still, something struck him and he leaned back in the chair. Of course the kid thought he was a monster. That’s what they all thought. It didn’t make them right, just desperate, delusional. Still, he had an idea. Stupid. Unrealistic. But why not? “Fine. Think what you want of me,” he said, tilting his head and raising a brow, challenging the vampire across from him. “You think you can go your whole undead lifetime in perfect control? Cause if so I’ll walk away and never say another word.” The word promise almost escaped his lips, but he’d learned well enough living with Regan that word wasn’t safe, even when talking to the undead. Chances he wasn’t willing to risk. He was risking enough already. Potential lives, potential victims, potential monsters.
“Animal blood is sufficient.” Milo countered. No, it didn’t taste as rich, and it wasn’t half as satisfying. But it was more than enough to keep him alive, and more importantly, dampen his thirst. Surely Kaden had to know it was a dietary option. Even Stephenie Meyer had managed to figure that one out. “Humans hunt for sport, and kill animals to eat them, so you can’t tell me drinking animal blood is inhuman.” He tried to resist the urge to move away from Kaden as he leaned forward, but his instinct eventually overpowered his will. As the slayer closed the distance between them, he added to it, unable to hide his discomfort. Setting his jaw, each word pierced his skin like a white hot needle. The concept of so many years was still one his brain couldn’t comprehend. He understood he would be living, would very much be the same Milo Summers, even after a century had passed him by. But this hypothetical danger felt less like a genuine threat, and more like an imagined scenario. Maybe because he didn’t want it to be real. Maybe because he didn’t want to accept Kaden was looking at him and seeing the worst. “I-” he broke off, knowing he couldn’t say for sure it was never going to happen. One person had already lost their life due to his vampirism. He had long since accepted the fact that he wasn’t to blame. But his following efforts to remain in control had to count for something. They were proof that, with the proper guidance, and a sire who actually gave a shit, the tragedy could have been avoided. He had guidance now, and friends to support him. He knew more about what he was, and the rules accompanying his condition. In a hundred years, he might slip. But in a hundred years, he might not…
Relaxing just a little as Kaden retreated to his seat, he held the man’s gaze, defiant even though he wasn’t sure there was anything he could say to defend himself. If his heart was still functional, it would have skipped a beat at the sudden shift in his expression. The slayer was calculating, almost smug as he raised his eyebrows in a silent question. You think you can go your whole undead lifetime in perfect control? He wanted to say yes just to spite Kaden, but his hesitance was enough of an answer. He had left it too late, and as the seconds began to tick by it became harder and harder to spit out the simple word. Nobody could promise that. Not even humans could promise a lifetime of control. It was unfair of him to say, unreasonable even. And he hated him for voicing the statement. “Do you?” He asked instead. “Seriously- tell me you can live an entire life without making mistakes, without doing things you eventually begin to regret. I’m not arguing with you over something I may or may not do in the future. What I’m doing now matters more. And now I’m trying really fucking hard to be the same person I always was. If you want to judge some future version of me that doesn’t actually exist, rather than the me sitting opposite you at this table, then your perspective is entirely fucked.”
“A mistake is spilling your coffee,” Kaden said, venom slowly slipping into his sentences. “Murder's not the same thing as a mistake.” It was getting hard to maintain some sort of façade that this was all normal, that he wasn’t negotiating with a monster. “Whether or not I regret anything doesn’t matter. I’m not a bomb waiting to go off. My mistakes don’t get people ki–” The words caught in his throat.
That wasn’t true. His mistakes could get people killed. Had, in fact. If he slipped up in a fight, it got him killed. He had nearly got Alain killed. His parents were– Regrets. That’s what he asked about? He had plenty of those. Too many to list. But one shot to mind. Lydia, there in the forest, as good as dead by his hand. Until he walked away. “You’re right. I have regretted things. Letting monsters live long enough to hurt others.” He could feel the tension in his jaw starting to hurt, his knuckles growing white as he clenched his fist. Kaden breathed in deep through his nose, tried to shift his jaw, loosen it. He looked at the kid– monster sitting across from him. Looked normal. Could almost pass for human. Didn’t make him human, though. Didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat. Not that there was much he could do about this here and now in the middle of a coffee shop. “I’ve seen enough to know how this ends. My perspective is just fine.” Another deep breath; he leaned back a little in his seat. “I don’t trust you,” he said point blank. “I don’t think you’ll go an eternity without killing someone.” He glanced around at the shop before looking back to Milo, “but my hands are tied for the moment.”
Kaden hated this, the idea of letting him walk away, risking the lives of everyone in the shop. Hell, everyone in the town. It felt wrong, disturbing. “You want a chance? Fine. Anyone ends up dead by your hands? Your chance is up.” Kaden gave a small nod, an invitation to walk away. “Good luck.”
Milo stayed silent, unable to adequately counter Kaden’s words. He wanted to. In his mind morality could never be so black and white. But to Kaden it evidently was. Nothing he could say was going to change his mind, and the more he indulged in the argument, the more likely Kaden was to follow him when he left the cafe. Even now it was a possibility. Feeling a faint glimmer of hope when the slayer cut himself off, he longed more than anything to know what he was thinking. Maybe he was realising mistakes could result in death. Maybe he was realising reality was complicated. His expression shifted, some deep and complex emotion clouding his features. Taking it as a victory, a minute, and impossibly small win, he narrowed his eyes in response to the admission. It was a sentence that had been carefully sharpened, delivered to cause the most damage it could. “I’m not a monster.” He said again, telling himself it would be the final time he uttered those words. It was a matter of principle, rather than a matter of altering Kaden’s perspective. As though if he spoke with enough conviction he could believe it himself, erase the spark of doubt that had permanently settled in his chest.
“Lucky for both of us, I plan on outliving you.” He countered. “You don’t need to worry about how this ends for me, because you won’t be here to find out.” Offering his company a look of grim resignation, he pushed his seat away from the table. “You’ll be pleased to know I don’t trust you either. And not so pleased to know I don’t give a shit what you think.” Feeling a vague sense of relief when Kaden made it clear he wasn’t going to act on his instincts, he picked up his coffee, pushing his glasses further up his nose. The faster he could escape this conversation the better. “Everybody deserves a chance, asshole.” He muttered, standing up and staring down at the man before him. He could see the glint in his eye, the desire to drive a stake through his chest and be done with it. Undeniably unnerved by the malice, he did what he could to remain composed. “Screw your luck.” He bit out, frustrated by the implication that he was being ‘allowed’ to live. He didn’t need permission, certainly not from somebody like Kaden. Kicking the chair back under the table, he gave the man one last, pointed glare before walking away. He wouldn’t stop until he was far from Kaden, and far from everything Kaden believed.
