𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 || 𝐁. 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓

three.

They didn't stand a chance.

No matter how high they thought of themselves or how equipped they believed they were, they couldn't take on a vampire. No amount of wooden bullets, stakes, or weaponized vervain would be helpful, especially since there were two vampires.

They would get one shot.

One shot.

Then the vampire would know that they were on to them and they would either leave town, go into hiding, or blend in like a normal townsperson.

And that wouldn't be good for anyone.

"Alora."

Alora blinked, shaking her head. She looked at her father with a confused expression.

"I've been calling your name for the past few minutes," He told her. "So what were you thinking?"

"What makes you think I was thinking anything?"

"Because you're me," Dean retorted. "Half of me anyway."

Alora scrunched her face up.

Mannerisms and magic from her dad.

Personality from herself.

And looks from her mom—not that she would know, only from what her father had told her.

She scrunched her face and shrugged, "Just that it's a funny coincidence that we end up in the one town that has vampires and witches crawling around it...all it's missing is werewolves and we'd have a complete set."

"Don't even kid about that," Dean took another sip of his beer. "Werewolves are insufferable pains in the ass."

"Even worse than vampires?"

"Debatable."

"Aren't some of them okay?" She questioned, carefully, knowing she was touchy about the subject—with good reason that is.

Dean sighed, "Maybe, but don't let my pessimism bring you down."

"Not like it isn't justified," Alora was always one for backing up her father, mainly because she didn't want him to be mad or annoyed at her.

Which he never really was.

Dean didn't reply. He simply downed the rest of the beer that had been in the bottle and turned off the TV. "And you should go to bed," He told her, ruffling her hair as he passed by her on the way to the kitchen.

"It's not even that late yet," Alora protested.

"You have school, so get your ass to bed."

Alora huffed, going to get up, only for Arthur to not jump off her lap. She looked down at her cat. "Well, you heard the man," She told the cat.

Arthur batted his tail at her face before hopping off the chair.

Alora followed swiftly after, but not before she gave her father a quick hug and made her way up the stairs, picking up Arthur once she got to the top of them.

"Night, Lor!"

~~~~~

When Alora came down the stairs the next morning, she saw her father already standing in the kitchen, putting the tea kettle on the stove.

"How come you aren't just using magic?" She questioned, grabbing a granola bar from the pantry—they had finally gone grocery shopping.