Heroes Never Die

Broken

2008-12-10T19:13:15Z

Title: Broken.
Author: WPJ.
Fandom: Custom.
Pairing: Kat/Benjamin.
Rating/Warnings: 18+. Scenes of violence and sexual content.
Characters: Main: Benjamin, Kat, Charlotte, Liam.
Time Setting: 2008.
Critics: Welcome in comments.

One

I’m sorry. For everything.

Ben stared at the words he had etched onto the paper, thick black lines against the previously unspoiled white. He pressed so hard with his biro that he knew the impressions would remain on the next page in the pad. He put the pen back to the paper.

I always told you I’d make mistakes. I tried not to. But I couldn’t help it.

“You know pouring your heart out isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” Charlotte sat down opposite him at the island, watching him write. “She still won’t forgive you.”

“You don’t know that.” Ben muttered.

She picked a cigarette out of the box that lay beside her and lit up, exhaling smoke in Ben’s direction. “You screwed up Benny boy. Even you can’t talk your way out of everything.”

“I’m not talking my way out of anything.”

“What’s this then?”

“An apology.” He averted his eyes from the dancing stream of smoke flowing from the tip of the cigarette back to his note. He scrawled a few more words onto the page, an explanation. Charlotte sighed and walked over to the kettle, flicking it’s switch to boil the water.

“You’re just setting yourself up to be crushed again.”

“Shut up.” He signed his initials at the bottom of the paper, BMJ, and folded up the note, tucking it inside his back pocket. Charlotte slid a mug of tea across the island towards him, despite his current hatred of her, he took it and sipped. He needed it. His hands shook, he set it down.

“I think this is a bad idea.”

“Good thing it doesn’t affect you then.”

“It does affect me, Ben.”

He stood up. He couldn’t take being in the same room as her for long periods of time lately. “Then leave.” He spoke over his shoulder to her as he left the room, grabbing his jacket off of the hook near the door as he left. “Don’t be here when I get back.” He slammed the door behind him.

Ben tucked his hands inside his pockets as he walked, his fingertips brushing the folded paper that bore his soul. He couldn’t give it to her in person; she refused to speak to him anymore. He’d drop it off now on his way to work.

His walk was more of a shuffle, he slouched and his shoulders hunched. A significant change from the confident walk he used to have, but then again, he wasn’t a confident man anymore. Confident men don’t lose the most important thing in their lives. He didn’t need to think about his route, his feet just took him there. He was free to think.

Damn Charlotte. She was making everything ten times worse. He couldn’t blame everything that had happened on her, but she certainly hadn’t done anything to help him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d called Kat as soon as he’d left the apartment to make up some story that he was only apologising to make himself feel better. Charlotte was a bitch. She’d come a long way from the girl he’d grew up with, the girl who’d been his best friend his entire life. There used to be a point where she was the first person he’d go to with his problems, now Ben hated her being around. If she hadn’t shown back up, maybe things with him and Kat wouldn’t have crashed and burned the way they did.

She was right though. The piece of paper wasn’t going to change anything. He could never write down what was really going on in his head, how he really felt. The most it would do was let her know he was sorry.

He rounded the corner and strode past the café Denouncement. Her building loomed above him like a beast ready to swallow him whole. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was making a mistake and should have listened to Charlotte. No. He had to do this.

He let himself in with the key she’d given him which he would leave with the note and dropped both the paper and the small piece of metal into her mail slot. Good thing she was a late sleeper, he could leave before she-

“Ben?”

Checked it.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, turning around slowly.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I was…was just bringing the key back. I know you didn’t want to see me, so I just…”

“You put something else in there too.” She pushed past him, opening her own mailbox. He watched as her eyebrows knitted together, a look of curiosity on her face as she picked out his note.

“Shit…” He thought, watching her eyes move across the paper. As she reached the bottom, she looked up at him.

“I guess we need to talk.”

“Guess so.” He had no tone.

Ben followed her up the stairs to her apartment without a word. He hadn’t been there in about a month, but he could still picture it clearly in his mind. Walk in, the tables on the left of the door. Follow the corridor through to the living room, the door to the kitchen’s in there. Her bedrooms on the right of the door. He knew it all. She opened the door and he walked inside past her, but didn’t go any further than the hall. It was too early for this.

“Ben, I thought I-…”

He cut across her. “Listen, I’m gonna be late for work and I can’t be late again. Can we talk about this later? I’ll meet you for drinks? It’s not a date, I know that. But you’re the one who said we need to talk.”

She bit her lip, not liking the sound of where this could go. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, and anyway. Why should I give you anymore time than this?” Any look of confusion and curiosity had disappeared from her face now, replaced by irritation which he knew could quickly turn to anger. When she got angry, he got angry. Everything with them escalated to full scale argument.

“Because. We need to bloody talk Kat and you know that. Nothings sorted with us, we can’t just drop everything like that.”

“Why can’t we? I don’t want you around anymore, you don’t want me around.”

“See! You’re doing that damn thing again! Those words never came out of my mouth, but you always have to assume the worst.”

“I just call ‘em as I see ‘em.” She spat, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the wall. She picked up a cigarette from the ashtray on the small table; she must have put it down for a second when she went to get the mail. He hadn’t seen her smoke in months. His face contorted in frustration as he watched her take a drag from it. He pulled it from between her lips and stubbed it out.

“Why the fuck would you start again!? Are you stupid?” His voice was becoming increasingly loud; she rolled her eyes at him. “Just be there, Kat. We gotta get this over with.”

“Fine.”

Ben spent the rest of his day in a sour mood, taking it out on anyone who did the slightest thing to annoy him.

Two

“This won’t take long.” He promised. Ben had come a long way since he’d known Kat. When they’d first met, he’d still been in his violent phase. He hadn’t exactly had a normal life and came from what most knew as a broken home. Abandoned by his mother, abused by his father. He’d spent two years of his life so far in jail. When he met her, he was capable of anything. His solution to every problem was to punch the problem almost to death. These days, he only fought in the ring and that was thanks to her. Though she was just as strong headed as he was, she kept him grounded and taught him control. It didn’t stop them from often butting heads though. She might have taught him to control his temper, but she was still the person that could make him lose it easier than anyone else.

“It better not.” She retorted.

He led her inside. When they were together, they often came here. Maybe he should’ve picked somewhere different, but that thought only occurred to him now. He sat down. So did she.

“Kat…you look amazing.”

“Don’t, Ben. Just don’t.” She dropped her gaze and opted instead for sliding a beer mat around on the table in front of her.

“Right, sorry.” He nodded, his tone sincerely apologetic.

“So you made me come here so we could sort things out, let’s sort things out.”

They were brought two beers. He took a sip. “What I said in the note…I meant it all.” She went to interrupt, “No, let me just say what I have to say. Do you remember when things first got tough for us? Do you remember what I said to you?” She still wasn’t looking at him. “I told you that I didn’t want to be your toy. Like when you’re a kid and a toy comes out, you see it and you want it so you beg your dad to buy it for you. He does. Then a few months later, a new version of it comes out and you want that, but you can’t get it because you’re stuck with the first one you saw and got.” He sighed and took a swig of his drink this time. “I always thought I’d be the toy, that I’d be replaced. I loved you too much to replace you, but when Charlotte came back. You just got so touchy all the time, I couldn’t do anything.”

“Oh so now this is my fault?” She sounded exasperated as she laughed in shock. “Wow, you really are a one, Ben. I don’t think anyone apologises quite like you!”

“Will you just shut up and let me talk!?” He half yelled. “I don’t love her, Kat. I never even liked her, it was you. It was always just you. You were just so damn pessimistic. You always had to think the worst about anything. I never would’ve left you. The arguing just got so bad. All those times we broke up and it hurt for a few weeks so we’d get back together…I just thought it’d be another one of those, I never expected it to be for good.”

“That’s not my fault Ben. You broke up with me, remember?”

“And I made a mistake! I realise that now.”

She didn’t reply to him, just drank all her bottle, he drank his. They ordered more. She spoke. “You always made a mistake. You made so many fucking mistakes and every little mistake of yours crushed me. I felt it, Ben. Every time you broke up with me it hurt me more and more. And I came back every time, I had to. I loved you too much not to. But when you started crushing on another woman when we were together, that hurt the most. When you left me for her, that killed me.”

“I didn’t even leave you for her!”

“Then tell me something, hon. And be honest with me.” She waited for him to say something, he just nodded. She continued. “Did you tell her you loved her?”

He was silent. He hadn’t expected that question, and wasn’t prepared for it. He had to choose his words carefully. “Yes. And I did love her, Kat, but I wasn’t in love with her. I’ve only ever been in love with you. I’m still in love with you!”

“You hurt me, Ben. You always hurt me. How do I know that if we got back together, you wouldn’t just hurt me again?” She finished off another bottle.

So did he. “I’ve changed. You haven’t been around for a few months, and not having you around made me realise a hell of a lot. I'm not some pathetic guy who flips out over everything and thinks he's so hard done by that everything bad in the world all happens to him. I realise now that everything that happened was due to me and I accept the blame for it all. I grew up, Kat. You just didn’t see it. Not having you around showed me how much I need you. My life’s just not the same without you.” He finished his short speech. Damn. He needed more alcohol in him.

“I’m with someone else now, Ben. And I refuse to hurt him just to get myself hurt again. I love him.” She was speaking quietly now. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d said anything to him this softly. When she said those last three words, he felt as though the remaining shreds of his heart that were still hanging in there were torn out and crushed before his very eyes.

He twisted the bottle in his hands, he couldn’t look at her. He had to put the distance back up now. “Right then, Denton. Just tell me one thing. Do you love him or are you in love with him?”

“Ben…”

“Just answer the question. It’s simple.” There was no emotion to his words.

“It’s complicated. I mean…when you left, he was there for me. He picked up and I do love him. But right now, it just doesn’t feel like it feels when you say…”

“I love you. I love you so much Kat. Don’t be with him, be with me. You know being with him if you’re not in love with him isn’t fair to him. You know you belong with me.”

“Don’t do this to me, Benjamin Matthew. Please.” His full name. She hadn’t used that in so long.

“I’m just making you be honest with yourself. Please, Kat.” He reached across the table and touched her cheek, she leant back away from his fingertips. He dropped his hand. “Let me show you I’ve changed.”

“And how the hell are you going to even do that?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Ben, this is a bad idea. Maybe we should just leave things where they are, not talk.” She was standing now, ready to leave.

“No. Don’t. I can’t lose you again, just let me…”

“Let you what? Let you put me through all that disappointment again? Let you crush me? I felt it Ben. Every time you hurt me or disappointed me. I was an idiot to keep setting myself up for it, to keep going back. I’ve changed too, I’ve realised that there are people in my life other than you that care about me.”

“Kat…”

“Bye, Ben.” She turned to walk away from him. Ben stood up from the table and grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her hard. She kissed him back, he felt it. Everything she wouldn’t let him say he put into that kiss. He felt her arms slide around his neck.

Three

They fell through the door to his apartment. Ben kissed her again, slamming her back against the wall, his hand slid up her thigh. He heard her moan out as he kissed her neck. He rose his head so their lips met again.

“No…wait…Ben, stop.” She pushed him, he backed away. “We…we shouldn’t.”

“Kat. I don’t care if you hate me for saying this.” He stepped towards her again, locking his hands on the back of her neck and resting his forehead against hers. “I love you. More than anything. I always told you I’d love you forever. Not a day’s passed since we finished that I haven’t thought about you and ways to get you back. I need you. I want everything we ever said we’d have. I don’t even have a life unless it’s with you.”

Her breathing was heavy, her words short, “Do you…do…”

“I love you.”

It was all she needed, she kissed him again. It was a race to see who could undress quicker as they stumbled into his bedroom.

They were making a mistake. They both knew it. But at that moment? It didn’t matter.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He turned his head on the pillow the next morning, seeing her asleep next to him. She was going to hate him. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, but she wouldn’t believe that. He’d just wanted to let her know that he loved her, that he always would. That when he said forever to her he meant it. She was going to think it was all an act to get in her pants again. Ben slid out of the bed silently.

As the cold water cascaded over his inked body, he ran through what he’d say in his mind. He shut it off, dressing in the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. When he walked back through to the bedroom, she was sitting with her back to him, pulling on her shoes.

“Don’t you say a fucking word.” She spat, grabbing her jacked from the end of the bed and pulling it on her shoulders.

“But I…”

“You’re a fucking bastard, Ben. What, is this all you wanted me for? Last night when you said you still loved me, were you just working your way back into bed with me? You always were good with words.”

“Kat, stop.” He reached out to touch her shoulder; she pulled herself out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

“I never meant for this to happen dammit!” He yelled now, his frustration getting the better of him. “I just wanted to fucking get you back!”

“You have no fucking right to raise your voice at me!” She shouted back.

“I have every damn right! You never listen to anything, to any sodding explanation!”

“And why should I, Ben!? Tell me. Why in Hell should I?” She was in his face screaming at him now.

“Because I wasn’t the only one in that bed last night!”

She shook her head at him and laughed sarcastically. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s my fault. It’s all my fucking fault. It’s my fault you left me. It’s my fault I had to move on. My fault I went when you made me go out last night. See, you’re better off without me.” She pulled open the bedroom door, storming out. “Just stay out of my fucking life, Ben. I don’t love you; I don’t want to be with you. I’m not sorry for it, I’m not sorry that I won’t hurt the person I have in my life now and I’m not sorry you’re a fucking jackass.” She slammed the door behind her.

He hadn’t noticed that his hands were balled into fists, he barely noticed as he punched a hole in his wall and grunted. Barely noticed as he cleaned his own blood from his knuckles. He was too busy watching his life walk out the door over and over again in his mind.

Four

The Clarity of Hatred

2008-11-25T20:36:28Z

Title: TCoH.
Author: WPJ.
Fandom: Vampiric.
Pairing: Christian Varnerius/Eliza Samael.
Rating/Warnings: 18+. Scenes of violence and sexual content.
Characters: Main: Christian, Eliza, Victor.
Time Setting: 2008.
Critics: Welcome in comments.

NEW YORK|AMERICA|1974

Christian looked from the ground to Eliza, disgust evident on his face. He was enraged; by her- by Lascelles. The Prince was unsure as to which he loathed more in that instant. Did he hate that his beloved master had once been his lover’s toy or did he hate that she was fawning over him?

Christian Varnerius had come to be ten times the vampire Victor Lascelles had ever been or could ever be. He was the Prince of Darkness, the Scourge of Humanity. He was what he himself had made him and he would prove that by any means.

“What’s the matter, love? Cat got your tongue?” She chuckled and growled at him mockingly, he couldn’t stand to be made a fool of.

“Lascelles was nothing – nothing – compared to me. He was pathetic, he-”

She cut across him, “Mmm, I don’t know Christian. He certainly knew how to entice a girl. Just thinking about him makes my thighs burn…”

“He was pathetic!” The younger vampire found himself yelling. A strangled cry escaped him as he lashed out, his fist embedding itself in the wall. He knew this was just what she wanted; to see him in this state, but Christian couldn’t care. He was not jealous, rather angered by the lack of respect.

Personally, he felt he was more intimidating than Lucifer himself; only she had the nerve to taunt him. She spoke casually, as though his outburst had not happened.

“Oh, he was a one. No one ever matched up to him, but of course that was then. That was before your name was on anyone’s lips.” She took closing steps towards him, her hands playing with the collar of his shirt as she continued to speak. “You’re a beast Christian…” She pulled away from him suddenly. “But if Lascelles ever turned up again I’m sure I could forget you in an instant.”

The breath he didn’t need was ragged as it so often was when he was annoyed. Christian turned his back on her, he spoke not to the brunette but to the wall that was stained with his blood.

“You’re talking about him like I don’t know who he is. I know him better than you do Liz. You’re just too much of an ignorant whore to see it.” It was his turn to chuckle this time as he turned and faced her again, malice glinting in his usually empty eyes that were two deep pools of green. “He was my sire.”

LONDON|ENGLAND|1850

“These past few months you have repeatedly told me of how you wish to travel to places the like of which I have seen many times over. I am giving you that opportunity Christian; just perform this one task for me.” Excitement was evident in the Frenchman’s voice as he made his proposal.

Christian took another swig from the tankard and set it down before him, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he nodded slowly. “I will do as you ask of me.” The young man bowed his head and was then led to the outer back of the tavern.

Fighting and laughter carried to the two men as they stood in darkness. It was as though Christian was seeing his companion properly for the first time since they had met. Lascelles skin was pale, almost translucent – like that of a corpse. On his gaunt face the skin seemed to barely hang to the bones. And the eyes…the eyes sent shivers down Christian’s spine. They were empty, each like a deep pit that longed to swallow the looker whole. For the first time in his twenty-three years, Christian Varnerius was afraid.

He barely had time to take it all in before he felt a hand as cold as death grab his face. Blunt, dirtied fingernails dug painfully into his cheek; Lascelles free hand grabbed onto his thick dark hair, jerking his head to the side, exposing the perfect skin of his neck.

He let out an agonized wail as teeth like daggers penetrated his flesh, life was drained from him, he was not terrorized by what was happening, rather by the horror of what he thought awaited him. He could not go to the emptiness that was death, he could not become nothing. Despair, grief, a wallowing sadness consumed him only to be replaced moments later by a feeling of great ecstasy. His life was almost at an end and yet he felt pleasure that was incorporeal to him. Lascelles was no longer drinking from him; Christian found that he now lay on the wet cobbled ground fading from life.

Lascelles face leered at him out of the darkness. It no longer looked gaunt and dead, but full of life, his life, his blood.

“You are dying, my boy. I watch the life fade from your eyes like the setting sun.” The dying man on the ground was once again drowned in a sadness that seemed to bring with it a strangely unbearable thirst. He attempted to speak but could not. The final horror was closing fast, death would soon take him.

“I can give you greatness if you only allow me to.” The words in the thick French accent seemed faint. Christian did not want greatness, yet he was not ready to welcome death. Using the last of his strength he nodded his head once.

Through blurred vision he watched Lascelles raise his wrist to his mouth and split it on his own fang before lowering it to Christian’s mouth. The blood touched his dry lips and seeped down his throat so lusciously. Like a leech he attached himself and drank with a hunger he had never known. It was though his whole life he had been thirsting and only now was that thirst being quenched. ‘Blood.’ The thought filled his mind as the liquid filled his mouth.

Not only was it Christian’s thirst and hunger that was quenched, but all the desire, the misery, the longing, the despair he had even known. The blood remained so sweet tasting as he drank. That copper taste was the taste of beauty. More and more he drank, never wanting to stop and then finally…Lascelles wrenched his wrist from Christian’s lips.

He felt as though he had been born again. He had not lived until now, never experienced life until death. He stared at his master, his creator. Compassion overwhelmed him.

“Straighten my sweet child.” Lascelles had whispered.

NEW YORK|AMERICA|1974

Eliza chuckled, seating herself in an armchair facing him. She crossed her legs and gazed over at him. “Well isn’t that ironic. I made a bitch out of your master and now I get to make one outta you.”

Christian scowled, but said nothing. She went on.

“Tut, tut, Christian. You shouldn’t be speaking of Victor like that now, you owe him your unlife apparently. Poor boy, tell me, how does it feel knowing he got there first eh? He seems to do everything better and before you, no?” She smiled that tantalizing smile as she stood, pulling her shoes on as she walked to him once more. Her fingers traced over the ink that was embedded in his skin, the tattoo’s that covered his body but couldn’t quite cover the scars. “I’ll let that all sink in, shall I?” She placed a mocking kiss on his bloodstained lips and left the apartment that wasn’t theirs.

For moments he stood were she had left him and then in one instant allowed hi rage to take over. Hour after hour he caused destruction, destroying everything in the hotel room. He broke the furniture as a substitute for breaking bodies. He wanted to hurt her, to break her, to make her feel a pain worse than death.

How dare she!? How dare she disrespect him like that? He needed to be rid of her – completely.

For so long they had been lovers, counterparts. Christian Varnerius and Eliza Samael. They were like the vampiric Bonnie and Clyde, but no longer. He was past the point of doing her physical damage. He was – to be blunt – done.

The tattooed vampire made his way into the bathroom, discarding his clothes he stepped into the shower, allowing the water that cascaded over his body to rid him of her scent. Only when he felt free of her did he step from the small glass enclosure, towel himself dry and re-dress.

Christian took one look around the hotel room that looked as though a full scale riot had raged inside before packing his few belongings and leaving with no intention of returning. He left her no note, no explanation of his departure or message of where to find him. He left her nothing. He refused to have any association with Elizabeth Samael any longer.

PARIS|FRANCE|1889

Smoke circled the vampires head as he exhaled. His eyes were fixated on the woman who sat in the booth opposite him. Her long blonde hair sat beneath a cherry red beret, the same colour of red that coated her perfect lips. Her scent enthralled him, it had hit him the moment he’d entered the bar; she was a vampiress. One his obsession with was already in full swing.

Christian set down his glass and put out his cigar, when he raised his eyes a smirk spread across his lips. The vampiress stood in front of him, she slid into the booth besides him, holding out her hand. She had caught him watching. Christian pressed his lips to the dead skin. The first and last moment of affection that would ever be shared between the two monsters.

There was something about this elder vampire that intrigued Christian. Perhaps it was the simple fact that he was still a child in vampiric terms and lacked a teacher, whatever it was, this creature fascinated him. He longed to know more about her. He mere presence was intoxication.

“Varnerius.” He said, with a slight inclination of his head.

“Eliza Samael.” Her accent was thick and the complete opposite of his heavy Northern one. He had not expected to hear those tones in her voice. She sounded commanding, brutal, deadly. His eyes openly scanned her body.

It was a strange and yet common thing about vampiric attachments. They take hardly any time to form and last an eternity. Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered to him, venom in the words, “Jeux d’enfants.”

Christian chuckled and leaned back. “I’ll always take a dare, kitten."

TWENTY-NINE YEARS LATER

ROMA|ITALY|2003

The dark haired beauty sat at a corner table in the demonic bar, surrounded by four demons, all of a different breed. Isabella hung from his arm. She was a blonde vampiress, several decades his junior and she was Italian. In the slightest of ways she reminded the Prince of his former counterpart, it was the only reason he really kept her around.

Yes, Christian still loathed Eliza, but as it always had and always would; part of him longed for her. After all, what was Clyde without Bonnie? Sid without Nancy?

Rome. This was her city. Their city. It was the reason the self proclaimed dark monarch had protested coming. He took consolation, however, in the fact that he was unlikely to run into her here and now after almost thirty years of their last encounter.

He held up a hand to silence the demons that were all talking to him at once in different tongues. His fingertips rubbed his temples lightly as one of the now usual migraines settled in. Isabella squeezed his dead hand lightly – affection. It sickened him. His thoughts were on nothing but his former. She invaded his mind so much that Christian could almost smell her scent engulfing him as clearly as though she were in the vicinity.

No…no. He wasn’t imagining the scent.

His head shot up. There she stood. A pathetic beings arm was snaked around her waist as though he was supposed to be there beside her. Every nerve in Christian’s body stood on end as he watched.

There it was. She’d caught his scent too and within an instant caught his eye. A smirk spread across his lips and he began to relax. His arm found its way around Isabella’s waist as he stood, dragging her with him and making his way around the table. With a hand gesture, the demons departed.

Eliza did not close the space between them and neither did Christian. He watched her with rage burning in his eyes as he leant against the table.

“And here I thought Rome was free of scum.” His voice carried effortlessly across the smoky room to her.

“Watch your tongue, Christian, if you want to keep it.”

His lips curled over his teeth in a snarl, his fangs were not producing, but that didn’t make it any less intimidating. Her scent was not flooding his nostrils, he could smell nothing else. His mind was spiralling out of control for her.

Dreams in Which I'm Dying

2008-08-06T22:14:58Z

Title: Dreams in Which I'm Dying [Are the Best I've Ever Had]
Author: Sickboy/FallOutChick.
Fandom: Custom. Normalverse.
Pairing: Kage Cunningham/Dorian Grey.
Rating/Warnings: 18+. Scenes of violence and sexual content.
Characters: Main: Kage, Dorian.
Time Setting: 2008.
Critics: Welcome in comments.

Authors Note and Summary: SL being written with fellow RPer currently. A murderous schizophrenic surpresses memories of killing his family and convinces himself he watched someone else do it. When incarcerated in a mental institute he met and fell in love with fellow patient, Dorian Grey. Both become convinced their parents were pat of a conspiricy and after their release hunt down none existant murders and men who can get the 'Government' away from them.

Flashback. The Lennon Institute for the Mentally Unfit. Three Years Ago.

“Mr. Cunningham – releasing a man who’s mental stability has been as…unpredictable…as yours is not something we regularly do here. Though by intellectual standards it’s almost a crime keeping you here. A man with a mind like yours could certainly be making a difference in the world. And your progress over the past two years has been exceptional with your number of episodes down to…” The man that scanned his clipboard was elderly with tufts of white hair on the side of his otherwise bald head. Lines creased his face making him not appear old, but wizened and his eyes seemed to be those that had once belonged to a happy man full of laughter and smiles, they still held a faint glimmer of that joy and yet were almost empty now. Empty because of what he had seen in his life. “down to seven. Astonishing. Truly astonishing.” The repetition of the word astonishing was quiet, the doctor’s voice low as he read over the board again, seemingly lost in the details of Kage’s case.

Kage himself sat straight in the plastic chair, his hand hands pulled back into the sleeves of the sweatshirt he wore. He fidgeted a lot, almost as though he didn’t want to be there. His eyes had not once connected with the doctor’s, a man he knew well by now. The two had shared numerous debates and discussions on a number of subjects over the years. The doctor almost saw Kage as an intellectual equal. To him though, his intelligence was nothing. Things were merely facts that he was able to store in his mind. He thought nothing special of his IQ despite it nearly being level with some of the greatest minds of all time.

“Remarkable.” The doctor muttered before dropping the board onto his desk where it landed with a light thud. He pressed his fingertips together under his chin and surveyed Kage over the top of his spectacles. After several moments he spoke again, his voice it’s usual level. “You’re to be released in a weeks time, Mr. Cunningham. True, it does appear a bad choice to others but myself and some above me all agree that you could do better away from here. However, you must continue to visit your thera-…” The conversation continued for an hour or so, with very little input on Kage’s behalf. Physically he was in the room, but his mind was elsewhere. It was in the place he visited immediately after leaving his doctor’s office in the institute that for the last seven years had been his home.

The door to the room was ajar and he knocked softly before pushing it open wide enough to allow himself entrance into the room. His dark eyes immediately focused on the woman sitting in the room. She was so quite that at first glance she seemed almost in a catatonic state, sitting on the floor, knees to her chest, arms draped around them, eyes unblinking. Kage closed the door gently behind him. Patients in the Lennon Institute for the Mentally Unfit were allowed to visit one another in their rooms and wander corridors due only to the fact that the large staff were often around. At that moment two orderly’s stood outside the door. Kage walked into the center of the room silently, stopping only when he stood in front of her, his shins in her line of sight. He dropped suddenly so that he was squatting on his haunches, eye level with the woman who still did not blink.

She was the only person in the world Kage trusted. The site of her was enough to elate his heart and make his miserable existence worthwhile. When in his regular frame of mind, smart and stable, it pained him that was rarely so. He was currently engulfed with a great sadness when looking upon her and not only due to the fact that he would soon be leaving this place, leaving her. He was saddened that whereas his mental state had ‘improved’ to doctors, hers had not. Kage’s in reality had not improved at all as would be revealed not long after he left the institute, but that is beyond the point.

“Hey…Dori.” His voice was little more than a whisper. She gave no response so he continued. “You know me, never one to dodge the point…I’m out of here in a week, love.” Even after the years spent in America surrounded by those of the nationality, his voice hadn’t lost the English accent and slang on childhood. She finally blinked at the mention of his leaving and her eyes which had been glassy seemed to focus on him.
She tilted her head slightly to the side, “You’re leaving me alone?” The question so blunt, so childlike. It stabbed him.
“I wish I wasn’t Dor, I really wish I wasn’t.”

“Stay, Kage.” Her tone sounded so final, he hated this. Hated that at times she did have the mind of a child, thought things in life to be so simple.

“I can’t. I want to, more than anything. Want to stay with you. But they won’t let me.”

“They’re part of what’s against us, aren’t they?” There it was, what he’d been waiting for. Right now he felt strange. The childlike unstable Kage was convinced that people were against them, that they were out to test them and kill them. The mature stable Kage was saddened by this. It was complicated. It was like two entities, he wasn’t the man convinced of a conspiracy. He was the other half of that man. He sighed. “I don’t know, Dori. Maybe.” He shouldn’t have encouraged that thought; he knew it as soon as he spoke.

Kage’s hands found their way to rest on either side of her face which felt slightly clammy under his touch; he made a mental note to tell one of the orderlies. He was close to her now and rested his forehead against hers as he whispered. “You’ll be OK here, love. I promise. And I’m going to see you. I’ll make sure you’re not always stuck here. I promise.”

“You’re really leaving me all alone, Kage.” He hated it. Hated hearing her speak like that. HE closed his eyes for a few moments in an attempt to stop tears cascading down his cheeks. She was not only the only person he trusted, somewhere down the line he’d fallen in love with the woman as unstable as him. When he was sure he would not cry, he bestowed a kiss upon her head where his own had rested. “G’bye, Dor.” He left the room as quietly as he had entered. He didn’t think he’d see her again regardless of his promise – and that broke his heart more than anything.

Present. New York City. 2008.

Kage sank low in the car seat, the top of his tangled mat of hair just visible to anyone walking past the car. His eyes were level with the bottom of the window as he stared at a restaurant across the street. It was a posh place, for the rich and snobby types of upper class. Powerful men and woman, all with more money in their pockets daily than the working class earned in a life time. Finally the man he was waiting for exited, a woman on his arm. Kage stiffened where he sat, unmoving apart from his eyes which were now narrow slits gleaming with hatred as they followed the man until he disappeared behind the restaurant to the car park. Fumbling with the handle, the unstable man wrenched open the car door and bolted after him, shoving several people out of the way on the street as he did so.

It had been four years since he’d been released from the mental hospital that had been his home for seven years. The first few months after his departure he’d led a normal life as a normal man, however, being caught at the scene of a fire had caused him to lapse. Everything he’d worked hard to maintain crumbled and the paranoid schizophrenic once again emerged. His medication had kept his mental health from really deteriorating, but he hadn’t taken any form of medication in six months. He was as unstable as one could be; the only time he was in a regular state of mind was when he slept – which was a rare occurrence. He’d become sure that the man he now followed was part of the conspiracy that had killed his family. He’d stalked him for four months and was positive there were no flaws in his idea. This man was the leader of the conspiracy and Kage had to stop him before anyone else was killed.

In reality, this man was nothing. Just the wealthy CEO of a large corporation that was nationwide. He posed no threat to anyone. He was a weedy man with watery, rat like eyes. Women loved him for his money and men loathed him for it. Rounding the corner of the building and stepping into the parking lot, Kage’s eyes fixed on the CEO and his companion kissing against his car. They didn’t even hear him approach, were unaware he was there – until he wrenched the woman from the man and pushed her aside. The broad frame of the schizophrenic loomed over the CEO casting a shadow over him, to the rich man Kage must have appeared a lunatic – in truth he wasn’t far from it. The man’s eyes darted from side to side, afraid to scream but looking for help. The woman had fled. Kage’s hand closed about his throat and jerked him roughly against the side of the car. “You’re him aren’t you?”

“I-…I’m who?” The man stuttered.

“You’re in charge of them.”

“I’m in char-charge of people..y..yes." His hands scratched at the back of Kage’s in an attempt to be released.

“You killed my family?” The question was blunt, his grip tightened.

“Kill? I-…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t kill any-…” He didn’t have to finish, two large men grabbed Kage under the arms and pulled him backwards. Security from a club a few buildings away. The woman counterpart had alerted them. They tossed Kage in the street in front of the restaurant and when he yelled in vain about the man being the leader of a conspiracy and a murderer, they simply sneered at him and explained who the man was before leaving the ‘mad man’ alone in the road, people staring at him.

Scrambling to his feet, his arms ached. He shook the large fleece coat back onto his shoulders properly and stomped towards his car in defeat, already making another plan to take down the leader as soon as the opportunity presented itself. The plan, however, was forced from his mind instantly as he noticed a woman walking quickly down the sidewalk past him. She seemed shaken and held herself as she walked. He saw her face for but an instant but the usual feeling of his heart being lighter than air, even in this unstable state told him who it was. “Dorian…” The name left his lips with ease, with pangs of longing and wrenching sadness as he remembered his broken promise. The longing took over, without thinking his feet carried him after her, past her, spinning to a halt before her. The eyes of the wounded man locked onto her beautiful yet saddened ones. There were no words he could find in that moment. It really was her.

The Heart of Everything (2/?)

2008-07-08T20:36:48Z

Title: The Heart of Everything
Author: Sickboy
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Peter/[custom]Ardella
Rating/Warnings: The Horse and His Boy spoilers, PG - later scenes of violence
Characters: Main: Peter Pevensie, Susan Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie, Lucy Pevensie
Time Setting: Set a year or two before "The Horse and His Boy"
Critics: Welcome in comments

Authors Note and Summary: Unfinished second chapter. Peter meets and falls in love with a Calormen peasant, but with the Calormen being enemies to the Narnians, tension which could destroy Narnia's peace escalates.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from any of the Narniaverse films and books. Credit for them goes to C.S Lewis and I suppose Andrew Adamson. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 2: The Most Joyful of Sorrows

There was no speech, just the sound of his horse's hooves, of the clanging of his supplies, the whinny of the horse every now and again and his own breath. After a swift gallop for what felt to Peter like hours, he let the horse begin a brisk trot so as to not tire it. He had made good progress, already he was quite near Archenland, Anvard was about an hour or so away.

At a heavy sigh from its rider, the horse turned its head ever so slightly to the right; "Everything alright, Your Majesty?" It was very rare in Narnia for a talking horse to be riden unless going to war. They were not tame like dumb beasts, but free animals. Talking horses, however, are much more capable of coping with different climates and riding great distances without breaking than regular horses and there were a few that allowed the Kings and Queens to ride them if it was called for outside of war.

"I suppose it could be worse, Andrew." Peter replied to the horse in a rather dull voice.

"But it is bad then, sire?" Inquired the horse.

"Well in not knowing you've quelled my fears that you were amongst the free Narnian's that believed I am going to betray my people."

"We talking horses are noble animals if I may say, sire, and we trust our Kings and Queens. This is why we always ride with you in battle, most of us are with you until death."

Peter leant forward in the saddle and rubbed the horses neck, "Well it's good to know some Narnian's are still on my side. Now, Andrew, I think I will walk beside you for a while, though I'm afraid I will have to leave you in your saddle." He said, and as the horse stopped he slid down to walk beside him. A talking horse is good company, even when it is not talking. A horse, you see, is not like a human and does not feel the need to fill silences with useless conversation.

"You didn't ask why many Narnian's are beginning to think I will betray them." Peter stated quite out of the blue after a half hour of silence.

The horse let out a burst of air through his nostrils and his ears fell back, "It is not my place to inquire, sire. If your majesty feels as though he would like to tell me, then he would do so without my prompting him." Horses really were noble and loyal creatures.

"Then for now I will just tell you that my heart is with Narnia and that I would sooner die than betray it and its people."

Peter rode in the saddle again for the remainder of the journey to Archenland. They did not speak of anything other than riding.

At Archenland, the High King of Narnia and the talking horse Andrew were greeted warmly at Anvard by King Lune himself. King Lune was a strange King, as close to his people as Peter was to his, King Lune was still a little different. He helped the servants with their work at times and enjoyed doing it. It was due to this he was so loved by the people of Archenland. The bond between Narnia and this country was strong and in ways, King Lune and his kin were almost extended family of the Pevensies. The King's son, Prince Corin, greeted Peter like a favourite uncle he had not seen in months.
In reality Peter had seen Prince Corin a mere fortnight ago.

The Heart of Everything (1/?)

2008-07-06T12:02:58Z

Title: The Heart of Everything
Author: Sickboy
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Peter/[custom]Ardella
Rating/Warnings: The Horse and His Boy spoilers, PG - later scenes of violence
Characters: Main: Peter Pevensie, Susan Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie, Lucy Pevensie
Time Setting: Set a year or two before "The Horse and His Boy"
Critics: Welcome in comments

Authors Note and Summary: New fandom for me, never written this before so just trying something new. Peter meets and falls in love with a Calormen peasant, but with the Calormen being enemies to the Narnians, tension which could destroy Narnia's peace escalates.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from any of the Narniaverse films and books. Credit for them goes to C.S Lewis and I suppose Andrew Adamson. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 1: A Question of Loyalty

There was an air of tension in Cair Paravel, so thick that it could be cut with a knife. There were whispers amongst the servants of betrayal, and even the Kings and Queens themselves had never spoken so little. They had long since adjusted to life in Narnia having reigned there for over a decade and though much had changed in that short space of time, the brave hearts of all four Pevensie's had not.

Until now.

The talk of betrayal came from High King Peter's recent infatuation with a peasant from a race that greatly opposed the Narnians. No one knew exactly how he had even met the peasant woman, to meet her he would have had to cross into Calormen territory. He would not answer questions, even to his royal siblings from whom he had never kept secrets and there were some who questioned whether High King Peter even knew a Calormen woman, those who thought it to be nothing more than a silly rumour.

King Edmund much disliked their people feeling as though they could not trust the Kings and Queens that were supposed to save them, and, always having been the upfront and slightly agressive of the four, finally confronted his brother.

It was a cold day in Narnia, the spirits of the trees did not dance in the wind but stayed deep within their barks. The moles stayed below ground, the fauns stayed within their warm homes and three of the four Pevensies remained in the large, chilly stone dining room that even with a draft was the warmest room in the castle. Queen Susan and Queen Lucy sat at one end of the large wooden table playing chess, Edmund near them fiddling with his own golden chess set, waiting to play the winner of the girls game. As he turned a heavy golden king over in his hands, the double doors to the room burst open - revealing a rather irritated looking Peter.

The sisters barely glanced at him, their mood towards him of late had been cold. They barely said a word to him unless it was neccessary. Susan had tried, she had gone as far as to tell Peter that she believed that he had not made the acquaintance of a Calormen peasant woman, but it was to no avail. He merely got angry with her for even questioning it and refused to discuss the matter any further. Lucy, always the most willing to see the good in people and give them the benefit of the doubt, still did not believe that her brother would do anything of the sort, but his harsh attitude stopped her from even voicing the opinion to him.

Edmund's eyes lingered on his brother as Peter threw himself down into the chair with the largest back at the completely opposite end of the table. It was a piercing glare from the oldest Pevensie that caused him to drop his gaze. His gaze fell back to the the solid and cold golden King in his hands. It was the largest piece in the set and always made Ed think of his brother. Peter was the High King, the one most Narnians looked to at hard times in the land - and now he was on the verge of causing a revolt in their peaceful world. Edmund stood abruptly, almost knocking his chair over and dropped the golden king to the floor where it landed with a thud. He didn't look at Peter, but stared at the cracked stone wall before him.

"You need to stop this Pete. We can't have them thinking you're slowly giving Narnia to the Calormenes."

Peter shifted in his seat. his hands gripped the arms and his knuckles were white. He was not angry that everyone percieved him to be a traitor, he was not angry that none of his people said it outright - he was angry that his family, the most important thing he had, the family he had always taken care of, did not believe him. Today was not the day for Edmund to bring up the subject.

"Well that's rich Ed, you're finally going to say it then? You think I'm handing Narnia to the Calormenes? You believe that I'm aquainted with them in anyway? I'm not the one who almost destroyed Narnia when the White Witch held out her hand." His tone was blank, he did raise his voice but spoke very bluntly, like the words meant nothing to him.

Susan stood as quickly as Edmund had.

"Don't Peter. Aslan didn't want that name mentioned again and to bring that up is utterly despicable of you!" Now, Susan's voice had tone. It was almost shrill with anger at Peter. Edmund gave her a look as if to say, 'It's alright'.

"Pete - we believe you. We know you better than anyone, it's just the rest of Narnia you need to tell. If we held a-"

"I wouldn't bother Ed, at least I know now how much faith they have in their High King." Peter's words were sarcastic, none of his siblings had ever seen him like this before. Peter had always been peaceful, understanding and now he was cruel and blunt and refused to look at any angle.

"Peter, Edmund's right. This needs to be cleared up and the only way to do that is to-"

"Oh shut up, Susan."

"I beg your pardon!"

Having been silent so far in the conversation, Lucy finally piped up. Her voice the quietest, her tone hurt.
"Just stop it!"

The three older, standing siblings all turned to face Lucy who was still seated at the table, staring from face to face. For a fleeting instant they were reminded of the younger girl who had lay in bed back in England years ago, crying when they didn't believe her about 'the land of Narnia in the wardrobe'.

"Just stop it." She repeated, even quieter this time. "None of you are helping, how is yelling at each other fixing this?"

"There's nothing to fix, Lu." Peter chimed in, speaking through gritted teeth.

Edmund rounded the table to stand by Peter, his brow was furrowed and he shook his head. His voice was not angry, but there was a slight sound of dissapointment.
"No, Pete, there is something to fix. Narnia thinks their High King is associating with Calormenes, you won't tell us where the idea started and you keep going off on trips for days at a time. They're not hunting trips, but you won't tell us about them. We don't know what to think, what's the rest of Narnia supposed to think?" He finished with a sigh, his eyes locked on his brother with a willingness to understand.

"You shouldn't have to ask me that, Edmund." It was stated as a fact, the last thing he said to any of them before he turned and left the dining room, leaving the others in an uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to do or say for a brief moment. It was Edmund who broke the silence.

"I think it's more than just a rumour." He slid down into the high backed chair Peter had just vacated and rested his head on his right hand. Susan spoke from beside him.

"But why wouldn't he tell us?"

"In case we reacted like this." Was Lucy's knowing reply.

They all looked from one to another, expressions of regret and sadness passed across their faces. The Pevensie's had always been strong and stuck together, now Peter was drifting away and attempts to pull him back were failing. They all knew without saying it that this had to be fixed with or without Peter's knowledge of their helping, he wouldn't see it as help. To do so they would have to keep closer watch on their brother, maybe even pass into Calormene Empire territory and risk battle between the Narnians and the Calormenes.

Suddenly, the double doors burst forth again and this time it was a faun that entered.

"Your Highnesses - High King Peter has taken a large amount of supplies and left on his horse. He refused to answer inquiries about his intent."

The sisters both stared at Edward who had strightened in the chair and was staring at the faun.
"Where was he headed?"

"The Southeast, King Edmund."

"Calormen." Said Susan.

Archetypes and Repetitions

2008-06-30T16:07:20Z

Title: Archetypes and Repetitions
Author: Sickboy ( soulxsaver)
Fandom: Hannibal Lecter
Pairing: Lecter/Starling
Rating/Warnings: Later parts will be 18+
Characters: Main: Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling. Not mine, Thomas Harris. Don't own them.

Authors Note and Summary: This is an attempt at a different way of writing Lecter, working on getting the character right and have tried a few ways, have tried writing him brutally and now this. Hannibal is amused when he finds something that means Clarice will soon be in his company once more, their twisted relationship will develop. She'll track him down and from there things will evolve.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from any of the Lecterverse films and books. Credit for them goes to Thomas Harris. No copyright infringement is intended.

For the past four years, his mind had no relief; alternating from dreamless sleep to consciousness, and thoughts of her. He imagined her to be as she always was, buried in archives, maybe investigating him, maybe hunting the most recent psychopath on the rampage. It was her job, her life. She had always acted as though it was just her and the FBI, nothing else. But he knew there was more, he had seen it on numerous occasions. She locked herself away because she needed to hide from herself, from something. At least that was what he read of her.

He stirred in his sheets, tearing them from his body and climbing out of the bed. The tiles of the floor were cold beneath his feet, but he didn't notice. He made his way through the apartment to the living area, where paintings adorned the walls. He stopped at his current favourite, 'The Bronze Lady'. Hannibal closed his eyes, the picture imprinted on his retinas as his fingertips brushed over the painting. Feeling the colours, the shadows, the curves. He could feel the artists compassion, the love he had held for his subject. It was so rare to find a painting which meant as much to you as it did the artist, but Hannibal could relate in ways. The fixation one could have with a person they find so similar and yet so different to themselves. He breathed a single, shallow breath and dropped his arm, turning his back on the painting. Slowly opening his eyes, he found that another picture was in his view. This time one sketched by the doctor himself so many years ago, at least fourteen or fifteen. It amused him for the briefest of moments, how she had been on his mind not moments before. The picture of the woman and her lamb was half concealed - just like Clarice Starling herself always seemed to be to him. The hum of the television which was constantly left on and tuned to the news disturbed his oddly peaceful thoughts.

Constantly left on for exactly this reason.

Raising one eyebrow, a stern expression was set in place of the unfathomable one that had resided there seconds before on the wisened, aged face of Hannibal Lecter. He moved towards the television set, pressing the volume until it was loud enough to hear without straining:
"The killing is the fourth in the last three months, like all the others it was found in Baltimore - former home of seriel killer, Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter. Each body has facial disfiguration, the cheeks have been torn away and teeth marks are imprinted on the bone. The killings are in the style of Hannibal Lecter, earning the killer the name of 'The CopyCat Cannibal'. Special Agent Ardelia Mapp is heading the investigations along with regular face to Lecter related murders, Clarice Starling. Starling refused to comment, but field reporter, John Downey, managed to get a few words from Agent Mapp."
The scene changed from a reporter behind a desk to an older, male reporter standing with an FBI Agent in front of a crime scene. Hannibal did not watch, but turned the set off.

Rather than be angered by the news, he found that a wry, almost sinister, grin played at his lips. Interest in him would be rising. She would surely try to track him down now, assuming, of course, that she was not already on his trail. Many would. There had to be at least a handful who believed this wasn't the work of a copycat, rather Lecter himself. He sauntered over to a glass cabinet, pouring himself aged and expensive Chianti into a crystal glass, he drained it in a second and allowed his eyes to once again drift to the sketch of a woman and her lamb.

"Oh, Agent Starling...you'll be flying to me soon...very soon, Clarice..."

The words were soft, his lips barely moved as he whispered them in an undaunted manner - his lost lamb would soon be close.

Whispers in the Dark

2008-06-14T20:56:13Z

Title: Whispers in the Dark
Author: Sickboy (soulxsaver) and The Dark Slayer
Fandom: BtVS/Ats
Rating/Warnings: Later 'Chapters' Adult Rated
Characters: Angel, Faith, Dana.

Authors' Note and Summary: Angel is on the verge of giving up when by coincidence Faith makes a reappearance in his life. He begins to help her track a group of rogue slayers pent on opening up the new Hellmouth with the help of demons, things take a bad turn when Angel is turned mortal [which he discovers is worse for him] and Faith loses her Slayer abilities.
Third time this SL is having to be re-written, all good things to those who wait.

Disclaimer: We don't own the characters or anything else related - Whedon and the rest do. No copyright infringement intended.

It wasn’t shock that kept Faith sluggish. It wasn’t lack of motivation, nor was it the small injury she’d sustained whilst standing in the line of fire. Faith was simply moving slow; her mind on overload with what was going on and all the possible explanations that followed what had just happened. There were plans of action that needed to be looked over and worked through and different ideas she needed to scour over now that things seemed to take a turn for the worst for the determined slayer. It was clear, though, that things had not gone how she’d planned and now she had to figure out something new. She wasn’t sure if they were just now aware of her presence or if this was news to them. Either way, she’d just presented herself as a bigger threat than before and so the force they used to shut her up would also be greater.

She’d climbed out of the car slowly, and followed Angel’s path until he disappeared from sight. She just looked after him. She had no reason to stick with him at this point; she owed him nothing. However, the way he moved – there was an urgency in his footfalls and she figured that maybe she should stick around and find out the reason why. She wasn’t angry at him, nor was she really disappointed. She would have done worse on her own and her own plan of action had been illogical. It was easier with him, despite the fact that she did feel she was “right.” In that fact alone she found solace and so her thoughts were not that of “blame,” but instead on how she was going to fix this and figure it out. Her hand played about the dark spot on her shoulder, the pain already numbing down to a small pounding underneath the damaged flesh. She would live to see another day.

Pushing into the grand hotel area of the Hyperion it didn’t take her long to spot Angel. His mind was distracted; he was obviously entranced with something new. She took in a hesitant breath before circling wide around him to stand near him but not near enough to see what he was holding. Right now, her mind was elsewhere. She wanted nothing more to do with such things and there was not much more they could do about it tonight anyway. There was no real solid place to even start. Faith felt screwed out of a night’s venture, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to already start planning the next one. So, looking straight ahead and planning her interruption of his urgent thoughts, she took another step forward, still a few feet away from him.

“Angel,” she said, more solidarity in her voice now that she’d come to the conclusion of what she wanted for the night. “My clothes , they’re back where I’m staying.” Surprisingly, her voice was wavering off. Not really due to her being unsure, but due to her wondering why she was feeding him this explanation; it was as if though she was asking permission. “I’m going to run back there and get them. A day of fun in the sewers is one thing but…” She shrugged, figuring he could figure out the rest on his own.

He stared at the newspaper on the marble topped counter before him. It was yesterdays, he assumed that this wasn’t the only mention over the past few months of the law firm from Hell – Angel had been an idiot to miss it. Of course they were back; you knock down hell it doesn’t stay down for long. They’d probably been watching his descent into careless, suicidal vampire and laughing – either that or he was no longer of any interest to them. No, he had to be of interest. They’d hunted him, they’d made him CEO of the whole Los Angeles branch and he’d been part of taking them down for a time. So there was the question, why hadn’t they gotten rid of him yet? Angel’s mind was spiralling. Wolfram and Hart knew everything that went on in the world, never mind just the city. It was evident that they would already know about the rogue group bent on opening a Hellmouth, they would have more information already than either Faith or Angel could gather in half a year. It was safe to assume that Wolfram and Hart were watching the rogue’s progress with interest, maybe even helping them at points. “Dammit!” He slammed two fists down onto the counter, under the vampiric strength it cracked in parts.

Was he supposed to explain this to Faith? Tell her that they might be dealing with the guys that had hired her to kill him in the past? No. He couldn’t tell her, not yet. He could’ve been wrong and then they’d make plans based on his assumptions that might get them both killed. It was something he would have to follow up alone, without the help of the slayer. But what if she picked up on things, thought he was plotting against her? No, Angel knew that for the most part she trusted him…at least he hoped she did. This was all going down the drain if she didn’t. Hearing her speak from behind him, the Champion turned and the words that reached his ears made him partially grateful. He’d have time to follow this up sum in the hour or so it took her to retrieve her possessions. He nodded his head slightly, “Alright. But be careful, even just going over there. Something, someone. They know you’re here and they’ve seen you with me. They could be hanging around the hotel, they could have found your place. Stay on your toes.” She was a slayer, he needn’t explain these things to her, but he was a leader, it was in his nature to protect those he worked with in any way he could.

Angel walked around the counter and into the office without a glance at her, throwing himself into the leather chair behind his desk he was still as his ears listened to the footsteps lead the hotel. Once he was sure she was out of hearing range he pulled the phone towards him. Punching in a number he clutched it to his ear, on the fourth ring a strong British accent answered him. “Giles? I need you to tell me everything about this Hellmouth, the one Faith’s working out…” Again with the assuming – assuming Giles had ‘assigned’ her to this or at least pointed it out. “I need everything. Now. Dates, times, locations, if they need to perform any rituals. Everything you got, I need.”
Less than three minutes later he slammed the phone down with nothing more than he’d started with.
Even know the former librarian was having to search through an archive just to find information, didn’t he have any computers yet? At least I’m not the only one still in the dark ages with that… Angel thought to himself.

Spinning the leather chair around, Angel pulled open a draw of a metal filing cabinet, searching through until he found what he was looking for.
The vampire dropped the brown folder onto his desk, it was marked with two letters: “WH”

Broken like an Angel

2008-06-14T17:11:45Z

"The Devil reigns in Heaven, and Heaven is Hell." A sneer flickered across his features as the words left him in a tone that told all listening he believed every word he spoke. He stood correctly, hands together behind his back, studying she who was before him with a look of interest in his usually dead eyes. He liked to do things properly, there was no excitement in tearing beings apart physically over and over, Damien liked to get in their minds, to claw at their thoughts and beliefs until nothing but doubt and confusion was left. "The King you so willingly obey is no better than my master. They are one in the same, they rule their Kingdom's in the same way. I believe, however, that my Master has horizons much broader than yours. He is a lot less judgemental." This was true. The 'Lord' God was much less accepting and much more narrow-minded than Lucifer. He punished his flock for the most minute of things whereas Satan forgave his followers for their mistakes. Damien continued, "In fact there are very few things for which my master cannot forgive. The crime my traitor of a father committed for instance. You know of which I speak...the event that led to your unholy conception." He turned, his back to her and looked over his shoulder for a brief second with the intent of showing her the look of disgust on his face.

"The difference between you and I, Seraphina, - aside from the obvious of course - is that I shall reign beside my master for an eternity. Our father may have produced a vile creature in you, but the purity of myself was recognised a millenia ago. I shall put right my father's mistakes and when the time comes for me to do just that, I'll make sure you are one of the first I rid any plain of." He brushed his shoulder off in an irritated way. He hated this plain, it was revolting yet it was the only way the pure beings could interact. For a short time each had to occupy a filthy mortal body and walk their Earth. How beings lived in this place was beyond him. Damien could feel the beast within him begin to stirr, as if it was sick of this place already.He chuckled and mentally soothed it. "Until then, my sister." He said the word 'sister' in a mocking way and smirked at her before leaving the angelic being where it stood. It amused him how far beneath him she was, he would destroy her and it would be painful and slow. Enternal agony wasn't enough for her and the fact that they shared not blood, but essence made him feel physically sick. How he hated these human emotions.

********

"You don't know what you're doing." The broken man's words were quiet, level toned and calm. Every rustle of his jacket made him flinch, every breath made his eyes narrow for a moment. His heart beat so furiously that he felt as though it would burst from his chest at any point. He noticed that his hands shook at his sides, he clenched them in an attempt to steady them though this proved to be to no avail. It was his fault, he knew it was. Part of him hoped that he would soon feel the pain of a bullet buring through his flesh. Damien's eyes focused on the mortal form of his half-sister. A complete and utter wreck was the only way to describe the female. Shaking from head to foot, gun clenched in hands pointed at him, he couldn't tear his eyes from it.

She looked exactly as Damien felt. Calm and collected on the outside, he was rapidly falling apart within. He knew what he had been, the kind of power he had had and he knew that it had been torn from him with no mercy. And it was the fact that he longed to have that power again that caused him to collapse within. He was corrupted from birth. He had the darkness of the devil within him and now it was mixed with the darkness of mans heart, the mortal soul was not adapted enough to cope with it. He wished for death and yet, what kind of punishment was that? Would he once again walk through the valley of the shadow of death or would he become nothing? Was he worthy of being anything?

"Seraphina...please..."

Title: Broken like an Angel
Author(s): soulxsaver , girly_scribbles , angel_the_lost .
Fandom: Customverse.
Pairings: [currently] none.
Characters: Main: Damien Levi, Seraphina, Chamuel.

Authors' Note and Summary: SL: In mortal form a Demon of Hell and Angel of Heaven share blood, tying them together as brother and sister. The Angelic is sent to kill her 'brother' to stop him revealing anything about their worlds, but when she struggles she is sent a guardian. Hell is quick to counter, sending Damien a beast in the form of a woman, more dangerous than the devil himself at times. Thanjs to g_s and a_t_l for writing this with me.