2. So What!

My life with my new pack. My life as The flea once again. Now I needed to keep busy. The first up was to make new fleas. Wulfe was with me all the time. As all of my men. We took a car, and we got to work. First, we flew into Europe. I made again network there. I kept connections to Alaric and told him what I was doing. He had my last fleas, and he had expanded them quite a lot. But we had still come to our network with plenty of willing participants.

I called Jarod and Miss Parker. They joined our little tour across Europe. Jarod and Wulfe were my lie detectors, so no one rotten apple came to my network. Magnum and I bought and sought our bases, got everything that we needed, and then left their people to work when we moved into the next country. Miss parker being almost my second in command. She was one tight lady, but her sense of humor was something else. 

After we had gotten to Europe in some sort of order, six months had gone by. I had drank and recovered from those two months, so eight months had gone by. Fine by me. We started to America in the same thing. Our network and Alaric were with us now, too. Jarod and Miss Parker had gone home, but Wulfe stayed. I was quite surprised when I started to think, about how the enemy can become an ally or even a friend. 

Wulfe told me he had a vision. Long time ago when he had not been so nice about his role. In short, chaos cat or someone up there had told him that if he could be good, do good, he would redeem himself and he would become my friend. Since I had been idol to him, more or less whole time, he wanted it; he tried and helped. Well, he gave me a way to destroy Damien. and when he got the chance to help me, save me, he knew he had redeemed himself. He seemed ancient, and we had quite interesting discussions about many things. Even philosophical ones.

We got America in order, Magnum was on it, and soon there were plenty of people to help us, including Rob's son Taylor. He was a carbon copy of his father and he was a fantastic guy. He was single and hilarious, but I was not looking for love, only work. He had been in my original fleas and he had aged little as rejuvenation serums and my blood had been offered, so they kept him young. 

But being just a flea was not enough for me. I needed to be busy, to fill my days as much as possible. So I started to be a surgeon. And then I expanded my repertoire too. I started to learn everything about shifters and their anatomy. I went to see a lot of shifter doctors and learned a lot. I let my alpha female status show and my alpha power as well. I learned quite a much with gentle guidance from Curran about customs and it helped. I sought every book that there was. I sucked information like a sponge, and a few months later, I opened my practice for shifters. 

I had now my new life, and it was not fun or easy, but I kept myself busy. I keep contact with Alaric and told everyone, including, Dresden, and Constantine, that they were also aware when I told them. I was again in Springcove and started with the missions. I was also a surgeon at the same time. And shifter doctor as well. My doctor's practice was just a few days open in a week and if someone needed a consultation, I was ready to. 

I would keep myself busy and efficient. I got confirmation from upstairs that this was just a fluke, free will, and all that. Now, there was no great destiny for me. I had gigs with wizards as well as my radar needed emptying at times, too. I had an entourage with me, so no running away. Wulfe had found from some website pictures us, me Charles and Adam in our vampire parties, so it was easy to him or Magnum made belt and attach me to them.

Of course these were party or ball usually and I was not anymore Lady Salvatore but Lady Springcove. My title stuck. My vampire side was brutally strong and dominant.

I grew a shell, once again, and swore to myself that never. Never would I let anyone into my heart again, because this pain, this pain that threatened to crush me so fucking completely, was too much. My rage helped to keep that crushing anguish away. It was not meant for me to feel.

Doing missions helped too, but there were drawbacks. I was a very sought victim. I learned it quite fast as I started to do missions properly. My rage made me careless. I was captured, tested, and injured, and often I was the not only one who got caught, but several of my crew were killed in those tests.

Then I escaped. Not in any good condition. Sark had imprisoned me, my liver was busted, and I was infected, thin as a rail. Full of black rage. I was fucking satisfied, feeling my rage growing, my willpower growing, and now I didn't have to share anymore. Not at all. I knew how to be mean.

My imprisonment had blown up my rage and my willpower, and with everything now mine, my rages evolved. I had to make additional wells because they had their colors. Black rage was strong, and it helped me a lot when I at last walked to the safe house.

It was late at night, the dimly lit streets cast faint shadows on the pavement. The city had limited its electricity usage, resulting in sparsely lit street lamps. The darkness provided a cloak for me, ensuring that no one could see me too clearly. As I walked through the deserted streets, a sense of anticipation filled the air. The first glimmers of dawn broke through the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pale orange and pink. 

I was dressed in scrubs, stained with blood up to my elbows, a testament to the violent encounters I had faced. My mind was numb, devoid of any coherent thoughts. Only the burn of my rage was present in my mind. All that mattered was reaching the safe house. I had eliminated all the Sarks who stood in my way, leaving a trail of death behind me.

I had once again, ripped my way out of that damn facility, leaving a trail of body parts behind. I had been shot at, by bullets and sedative darts, shooters were dead, ripped apart by my hands. I had an infection, and wounds, but my rage did not anything come through. Nothing mattered. The streets were devoid of traffic, allowing me to make my way unhindered.

Finally, I arrived at my sanctuary, the Safehouse. With a practiced touch, I entered the code, gaining access to the secure space. Exhaustion washed over me as I sank into a chair. Time seemed to stretch as I sat there, lost in my thoughts. Rage helped me to cope, to act. My hands shook. They were bloody. There was embedded something, tissue I guess, under my nails, too. 

Eventually, I stirred and made my way to the bathroom. I peeled off my blood-soaked clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water cascaded over my body, causing pain to surge through me. So many wounds, rashes, and contusions marred my thin, skeletal body. Quite an inventive list of profanities streamed from my lips. My voice was quiet, hoarse and my language would put sailor cover their ears as well. Pain tore through my body. 

Yet, my inner rage shielded me from its impact. It was a relief to cleanse myself, to rid my skin of the evidence of my violent actions. I washed my hands several times. I could feel the still warmth of those bodies as I had sunk my hand into them, ripped something out, and just continued. Not thinking, just killing. Feeling those hot entrails in my fist, seeing dead eyes looking at me. Feeling this pleasure to see my victims dead. My victory, my pleasure of killing. 

Drying off, I draped a plush bathrobe around myself and made my way to the bedroom. Within its confines were my drug cabinets, holding the remedies to calm my turbulent emotions. I had a set of instruction what to do. Colin, Wulfe had to get this sink deep in my mind so even in fully blown rage, I had certain routine what I had to do. I was more or less programmed to do this, but this programming brought a sense of security. It was not like that horseshit Salvatore's programmings had been. 

I carefully selected a pre-loaded syringe, preparing to plunge it into my veins. Colin had arranged these syringes for this purpose. Seeking solace, I crawled into bed, pulling the thick blanket snugly over me. I injected the potent sedative cocktail into me, knocking myself out. The drug coursed through my system, lulling me into oblivion, and temporarily quelling the overwhelming rage within me. Its meaning was to reset my rage to somewhere a little more manageable level. So I was not a soulless killing machine. 

When I awoke, I dressed and settled into the living room, feeling more like a human being once again. I reached for the blood bags, my lifeline, and consumed them all. These blood farms were essential for my survival. As the crimson liquid rejuvenated me, I felt a renewed sense of strength and purpose. Our blood supply was limited.

As for my original farms, good sarks had put several of my original farms down and that blood had been sent to other realms to be used by our offspring, farm by farm they had shut them down and Damon had not given me half of our blood supply, not because there was vampires whole pack full and he was also bastard But would survive, I always do. This blood would suffice. For now, at least. 

I contacted the nearest base, informing them of my whereabouts. Retrieving my laptop, I meticulously marked down the names of the deceased. Lake Lanier would once again bear witness to my actions. My choice, my burden. In addition, I planned to visit relatives of those whom I had lost. Hard trip it would be once again, but this was the price that we had to pay. We did a lot of good too and sometimes the price came to pay. Again, I had taken this "what if" paper as routine for everyone who was in fleas. I knew Alaric had implemented it, too. 

Then I got ready and went to base at first to see what needed to do. However, my encounters with evil medical facilities left me with lingering medical issues. The intensity of my rage had caused me to be very unpredictable and dangerous, making me a difficult patient. Colin, aware of my temperament, devised a cunning plan to treat me. I had a fever already, but he put me on base to work. 

He concocted an oral antibiotic that could be taken while I continued my work, despite the fever that plagued me. Moreover, the base was filled with people who could assist me if my restlessness became too much to bear. Meaning I went to walk and ended up in a heap on the floor. Though I remained sharp-minded, my rage still simmered beneath the surface. Colin was in the base all the time, watching me, making sure that my healing progressed even at some pace.

Let just say that my people saw me at my worst, as patient, weak, restless and utterly legless. Colin had this look in face as he wanted to shout at me, almost. Dexter did not be on base long after he noticed in what shape I was. Taylor told me he will lock my door so I won't get far, when Gina, our demolishing expert, told me she would tie me in chair. 

Now, I longed to prove to my former pack that I was stronger, wealthier, and superior. With a touch of creativity, I devised a plan to exact my revenge and settle the score. I had my time to be a petty-minded bitch for a change, too. 

I had fleas to help me, and they always told me where the pack had been spotted. Then I'd go and buy up, usually a whole direct-sale farm that was ordered empty right in front of them, so they'd have to find a not-so-good farm. I let them know I was the one who had just bought everything.

That was my farm, and it was not open for anyone, not at least to that pack. I had quite a collection of farms soon. But I was rich and got just richer when my little hackers got on with Sark's accounts once again.

I had also made some name in vampire circles, well Lady Springcove can be little meanie when she wants to. I was not anymore Damon's vampire wife. meaning I was not related to Originals, meaning I got to keep them in order. No troublemaking for Nick, but I pushed the group of Damon's ex girls into him, to harass him and keep him busy.

And I sent also lots of those girls, humans as well as Damon had given them blood to keep them young, in Mariella's business and there they got to tell those witches everything and Damon did not get kill them. Oh, revenge is sweet at times. I knew where to hit, so it felt. I knew Mariella was working, so she got a lot of Damon's ex girls to tell to her how wonderful Damon was in bed and what they did in their time with Damon. I knew very well just how jealous Mariella could be. 

I had once again gotten a division of very talented people and once they had had the honor to spend with me in the base while I was sick, in fever, and on the floor, they found motivation to stop Sark or whoever was after me. Because picking me up off the floor ten times an hour is not funny for anyone and I had always my I am fine attitude. Or then my feline attributes would come more front. 

I was again left to walking as I was quite feverish and I had this need to move, but there was the ability to walk as my legs were powerless and I had ended up in heap. Well, I moved on my fours. Our newest hacker, Billy's son, Hank, came at me, trying to pick me up, so I hissed with my eyes yellow. He went to get Colin, who was less happy as I hissed at him too, but he did not mind. He carried me to my sofa, gave me something to drink and I pretty soon passed out, taking a few hours' nap.

When my infection got better, I got back to work. No rest for the wicked. Colin was always nearby, he was relentless, and I got to go to missions when he permitted me. Even though I was the leader, I was not his leader, and he was my doctor, as I had made a medical power of attorney. 

When I got back to work, I worked a lot too. My daily routine was demanding. I was usually at work for 10-12 hours, and then I was doing or planning gigs the rest of the time. I didn't take days off from work and started collecting information. Being a doctor, surgeon, healer, and helper was a pleasant change of pace for those more violent aspects of my life.

It was a bit of a juxtaposition for me. I was the killer, assassin and soon I was a very good trauma surgeon who didn't care about anything else than saving her patient, no matter what that patient had done. I was good at taking multitude of roles, as I was pretender. These were just my ways of working, the kind of set of clothes that I wore. 

As a clinician and doctor, I had multiple interests and talents too. Shapeshifters, reproduction, and everything, and I'm fucking good at what I do. I had already had my practice, and I got wiser by the day and with every meeting of shifters, I learned something new. Now I was happy about my memory. I did remember everything that I heard and as usual; I made copies out of them, hiding them very deep in my mind, backup. 

I found information and contacts and got a reputation in shapeshifter circles as well. They didn't have that many doctors, and that was freaking useful, too. Salvatore was more or less a curse word because he wasn't helping. He was just taking and then not helping anybody. I was alpha female with power that rarely had seen or if they had seen those females had had males with them for centuries and power had grown in both of them. 

My mind as chaos helped too and my mind as pretender, well, and I looked things from a little bit differently than other doctors, meaning I saw what others might not see at once.

I helped, and I became hellish famous in those circles as well. My practice got quite a reputation, and I had to keep it open three days a week at least. Despite that, there were consultations. My schedule just got busier and busier by the day. I was very wanted by friends and by foes, too. Colin was with me. He wanted to learn as well, but he did not want to involve Samuel at this our practice. But Will came on board. He was as crazy to save everyone as always, but we had our hands full. 

We did gigs with Curran, and I didn't even consider having any kind of relationship with anybody. I had my missions with the old fleas or their kids, so now and then, I had to go to Lake Lanier for engraving. I had Ruby with me in fleas. She had come on board as soon as possible.

Even Damon was her sire bond between them was almost nonexistent. I told her it was because of Mariella. She was jealous and did not want any women in Damon's life. Wulfe took her as his. He was a good sire, and I did not know how many or how few he had sired. Wulfe was looking at me a few times in that way that he planned to be my sire too one day. My vampire side was not too impressed about that, as she was more than happy to be free with no sire. 

I took Wulfe once to Lake Lanier. He sat next to me as I carved, my electric pen buzzing and stone dust tickling my nose, then he took one of the full plaques, did some minor spells and all of my engraving was filled with gold. Those were beautiful. He was silent. Not much talked about anything, and he was the old creature. Some would say he was unstable or crazy, but the same had been said to me, too.

I was not the sanest or easiest creature to be around. I had hissed at my own people. If I unleashed my rage, I had knock myself out for 18 hours for me to be able to function so I was not killing machine. Wulfe being more or less unique, and I being unique, we had something in common. Both of us never felt that we really belonged anywhere, and we were always the odd one out. Both of us were brutally strong, feared by many, and understood just by few. I taught him our code language so he could read who had been killed and when.

He said then, quite contemplative voice, "My unicorn, you have lost a lot of and you still carry these in your heart and soul. How come you are not any more broken? How come you can still feel, to act, with this cemetery inside you? I have lost too, but time fades my memories of those that I don't remove myself. You are amazing, my unicorn."

I replied, as I had gotten everyone carved again. "I have lost too many. I am immortal. Did you know I was once dead for a week? But then energy faes gave them energy to me and now nothing can kill me, I can be in terrible shape but I won't die, not permanently. Yet for each mission, I ask my people to put their lives in line, knowing just as well that I will be fine, I won't die. Am I a monster? Do I have some balance between who and how much I save and how much I have to lose? I know they are in peace, in rainbow islands, but it is thin comfort, not much help." 

He didn't say anything, as he held his hand, helped me to stand, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He liked to touch, and he had been a little hesitant at first, but I had let him touch me and I had touched him too. 

We looked at this scene and he said to me, "my unicorn, one day you might have to engrave my name here as well, but then you will have something amazing. I can't say anymore than this as it is only possibility."

He loved to speak at times cryptically, but this felt like he could see in the future. But the question was, how far ahead? He wanted to be with me while I delivered my baskets, talked with relatives, and drank coffee too. He talked with relatives too. He defended me, not let them blame me too much, telling to them just how many I have already lost. We were on that tour for four weeks; I had to answer consultations on my phone while Wulfe drove the car unless we teleported from one place to the next. My life was busy, and it kept on busy. Just I preferred it to be.

I had my core group, too. Without them, I would not be here. Magnum, Wulfe, Dexter, Murdock, Colin, those five pulled me through and even I had a hazy memory about Jake, I never thought it more than something that my drunken brain had conjured up. Wulfe never told me it had been Jake who had told him to come see me.

I had no sense of time per se; I didn't watch the calendar so much, but at some point; I realized that a few years had gone by already. I had kept myself busy again and done some good work, too. Once again, I was sloppy and caught quite a few times, but I eventually pulled through. I am immortal, unkillable. I will revive always, and I will get better.

I have not yet lost Wulfe for this day, so if he saw something, it is further into the future. I am little unsure would I want that future to happen, but what would be that amazing that i would have. I really don't want to lose him. He is one support in my life. He has always said that I am Modesty Blaise, and he is my Willie Garvin. True, we have connection and it is not physical. But then again. I am unkillable, so there is no next life for us both.