Just figured I’d let everyone know in case you’re interested, UG officially turned five years old September fifteenth, fourteen days after I myself turned twenty. Boo yeah for my longest-lived project evar, baby! Happy Birthday, UG!

So, ehm, anyways, my apologies for being an indecisive little bugger, but I think I finally have the ending for the last chapter fixed and am satisfied with it. Which means that you may or may not want to hop back to Chapter Eight and take a brief look-see at the last scene. My apologies again, I just couldn’t quite figure out how I wanted to work that ending, but now I think I’ve got it, and about bloody time, too. Anyways, new chapter… Enjoy the shit-storm of craziness that is Jason’s head right now. :D

Unwanted Guardian story and characters © 2004 - 2009 Snyffles

Unwanted Guardian

Chapter Nine

Insensate, drifting in oblivion… The pain couldn’t reach him here. The confusion and the sorrow were left stranded on the banks of reality, able to do nothing more than watch from in the far-off distance as he lay suspended in the dark, blissful hollow within the world. This time there were no nightmares, only a vague, gossamer memory to rest upon the outskirts of his mind like a feather, floating atop the serene, mirroring surface of the pool of his thoughts.

He hung there, submersed deep within this abyss, protected by the shield suspended and shimmering above him. From here, the shadow of that violation was little more than a phantom, dancing and undulating upon the smooth ocean floor. Its touch was insubstantial. Its claws had been rendered useless.

Safe…

He was safe here, isolated from the rest of the world, wrapped within ever-shifting beams of light and darkness.

I want to stay here…

If he went back, the pain and the sorrow and confusion would be waiting for him, left agitated and restless by his absence. They would set upon him anew, cleaving ugly, morbid gashes into his flesh and mind and reopening scars that he’d momentarily, blissfully, forgotten. They would burrow into his wounds, ripping them wider, and they would begin to fester. They would reach into his very soul with greedy hands and sink talons seeping with poison into the essence of his being where he could not defend himself. They would rape him, over and over again, relishing in his screams, his agonized, terrified tears. And once they were done, they would kill him, slowly, tearing him apart from the inside out.

Please, let me stay here…

He couldn’t go back. It would destroy him all over again if he did. Here, he was safe. He was released from the fear and the feelings of worthlessness and guilt. Here, he didn’t have to cling to his anger like a buoy, clutching desperately at the only thing that would keep those demons from dragging him under into a never-ending cavern of asphyxiating shadows.

I can hear them…

They were calling for him, reaching out for him across the distance like tendrils of darkness, covered in wicked, gouging spines. They were beckoning to him, their voices intimate whispers that echoed in his ears, breathing his name, uttering threats and obscenities that made him ache and tremble with fear.

Don’t make me go back…

Things would never be the same. Even if he learned to cope with the constant violations, the never-ending demolition of himself… Even if he vanished within himself forever, barricading himself in this place while his body suffered… Even if he abandoned all sense, all rationale – even if he forced himself to relish his own desecration…

I can’t live like that... I don’t want to live like that! Please, let me stay here… Please!

He could do nothing when those tendrils plunged through the barrier, shattering the serenity on the surface and wiping the angel beams out of existence with their presence. He could do nothing, suspended helplessly in oblivion, as they shrieked towards him. He couldn’t scream when the first lanced through his chest, skewering his heart, punching out through his back and shedding the first plume of blood; bubbles exploded through his lips instead of sound, rendering him silent, denying him his only way of releasing the pain. He couldn’t move when the second shot through the base of his spine, lancing white-hot through his abdomen. Another blossom of crimson, curling through the atmosphere of his broken sanctuary like a macabre rose. Liquid darkness began encircling his ankles, crawling up his legs, his arms, like creeping vines – massive bugs that plunged their thorns into his skin in order to drag themselves forward. He could only twitch, choking on those bubbles of silence and choking on his own blood, when the third pierced the nape of his neck, glancing painfully off the bone of his skull and shattering teeth as it burst through gaping lips.

Red… it’s all… red…

And when the fourth – the largest of them all – rammed itself into him, driving upwards through his impaled, convulsing being without stopping and without mercy, the world erupted in blinding ivory before everything was engulfed by the abyss.

“Jason?”

There was something shaking him, a warm, soft presence resting gently on his bicep. His mind crawled out of the darkness, weak and slow, clawing at the banks of consciousness and barely able to acknowledge the ache throbbing in his temples as the nightmare clung to his being, trying to drag him back into the shadows.

“Jason, wake up.”

There it was again, that light, persistent shake – a tender rocking to help him pull himself out of the pit, the prison his own mind had created for him while he’d been sleeping. He heard something rumble in the distance, groggy and low, felt a deep vibration within his throat as he seized the root of the waking world and hauled himself with all of his might just a little bit further out of the murky depths of slumber.

“C’mon love, up you get…”

Another shake, the indent of the pliable area next to him helping him tip towards reality, struggling to kick himself free of the nightmare. It was starting to fade, falling steadily further behind him as he worked himself into waking, severing its last clinging tendrils. Grunting, clawing, heaving, straining towards the soft voice patiently guiding him through the darkness and the encouraging warmth on his arm.

He gave another acknowledging groan as muscles tightened, forcing him to withdraw into himself before he shifted and laboriously shrugged his way back into his own body, stretching legs, arms, integrating himself once more into his material boundaries. Of course, there was pain here, shooting hot and reprimanding through his ass and rippling like bolts of static through organs that felt ready to rupture, but after that sanctuary-turned-hell nightmare, he almost welcomed it.

“Jason?”

“Nngh…” Sucking in a slow, deep breath through his nose as he struggled to lift lids still burdened with the heavy weights of sleep, Jason lifted his head and managed to squint a single bleary silver eye at the pale, blurry spectre sitting behind him. “Huh…?” With a little more effort and a loud, jaw-cracking yawn, another watering eye forced itself to open.

A halo of rippling gold in the shadows. Pale skin and clothing limned by the light spilling in through the doorway, framing a slender, angelic countenance. Gentle brown eyes, darkened by the murk that had gathered in this room during the night, feeding his nightmares and being fed in turn by their malice.

But he was awake now, and that was all that mattered.

“Mm…” Jason sniffled and gingerly eased himself onto his back, discoloured lids drooping shut once more before he tiredly rubbed his face. It still hurt, he noted with resignation – probably would for another couple weeks until all the bruising went away. Bruises upon bruises… “Mornin’ Ju.”

He didn’t need to see the Englishman to know that he was smiling; he could hear it in Julian’s voice. “Good morning, love. How did you sleep?”

“Like any insomniac.” His voice had been left rocky and coarse over the course of the night, his words slurring together as he fought to rouse his lethargic brain and reacquaint it with his sluggish, maladroit tongue. “Laid awake for a good couple hours. Said fuck it, ‘n made myself a sundae sprinkled with sleepin’ pills.” A single knuckle blearily rubbed itself into the corner of his chocolate eye as he yawned again. “Had a not-so-restful night full o’ messed up dreams, an’ as a result woke up with a sleeping pill hangover,” Jason torpidly grumbled, sniffing back another breath, hands resting idly on the dull ache in his lower abdomen, as he turned drowsy platinum and brown eyes to the patient Englishman. “’sup?”

The gentle smile on the blonde’s lips twitched wider in the murk of the bedroom at his half-hearted jest, thoughtfully considering the blankets as he leaned on a single arm and cocked his head. “I was wondering,” The Englishman began slowly, the smile fading from his expression, “if you think you might be able to brave school today.” Julian hesitantly peeked up at him from under his brows, meeting his gaze over the rims of his glasses only for a moment before returning it to the fold of fabric he’d been distractedly nudging about with his index finger. “If you’re not up for it, I understand, but I thought I would ask first, just in case...”

Jason gave an absent, sleepy moan of acknowledgement, scrutinizing the backs of his eyelids for a time until he gathered the energy, and the brainpower, to croak, “What time is it?”

“It’s a little before seven,” Julian informed him in a sedate murmur. “If you want…” The blonde’s voice was eaten up by the silence and the darkness behind his lids, leaving him with no more than a brief, muted hum, low in his adopted guardian’s throat as he reconsidered his words. “If you’re up to it – if you want to go, even if only for a little while to see your friends – you can take as much time as you need to get ready. I’ve some errands I need to run on the mainland anyways, so I can drive you in.”

Lying quietly in the silence of the guest bedroom, mulling over his options and gauging the severity of his condition as he gave another wary stretch – still a far cry from “peachy,” but nowhere near as bad as yesterday, which was good enough – Jason pulled in a slow breath and held it. “Sure,” he shrugged, letting the trapped breath out in a rush as he sagged down into his temporary bed and gave another ambitious yawn. “Why not. Done it before.”

He could hear the tiny smile in Julian’s voice again as he murmured a soft, “All right,” and when he opened lids again – when he saw the concern and the sympathy saturating the gentle tawny brown of the Englishman’s eyes – he felt the weight of the situation throw itself over him in a smothering mantle once more.

Never really struck me ‘til now how messed up this whole thing is, his mind wearily mumbled to itself. His heart sagged in his chest as he wrenched his gaze from the blonde patiently sitting at his side and forced himself to look elsewhere. He remembered what had happened after Rori left his bedroom that night; he remembered hearing through the thick haze of agony the faint, staccato beat of approaching feet. Remembered hearing a strangled voice choke out his name as someone burst through the door that had been left ajar. Remembered the warmth of gentle hands and the cold, suffocating fear he’d glimpsed in eyes shining with tears just before he’d lost consciousness. I almost feel sorry for him, his thoughts whispered, being caught up in the middle of all this. I don’t know how he can handle it…

“Um, well then…” But once more Julian’s tender voice freed him from the darkness of the moment and drew him with a steady hand back to reality. “I brought up some breakfast for you, as well, in case you were hungry. It’s not much – just some fruit and a muffin, really – but it’s a start, and something that’ll put some strength back in you. Oh, and your uniform is hanging on the bathroom door.”

Jason gave a weak laugh in the hush and shot him a faint, crooked grin as the blonde neatly removed himself from the edge of the bed. “I got a question: Why aren’t you a saint yet? Better yet,” Jason rumbled, comforted by Julian’s answering chuckle, “take the freaking Pope’s job. You’d be better at it than he is, anyways.”

“Oh I’m not so sure about that,” Julian mused, his old smile flashing brightly in the darkness as he shyly tucked a stray lock behind his ear. “After all, I’m only half angel, you know. The rest is all devil, and Ror-” When the vampire’s name tumbled into the air – a weight slamming itself hissing and scratching into Jason’s chest, seizing his heart in wicked, greedy talons to give it a painful squeeze – Julian faltered. The glimmer of his usual mirth drained from his expression as his grin wilted and suddenly gloomy eyes averted themselves behind the lenses of his glasses. “Well…”

Silence had returned, loitering patiently between them and observing with a grim, malicious satisfaction as they were reminded all over again of the heavy shadows still looming over the Manor and its inhabitants. The man raped you, it wheezed. Nearly killed you… Yet you think you can try to pretend it never happened? Christ, if the thing had been a human being, it probably would have laughed just then. What absurd little creatures you are.

The corners of Julian’s lips twitched into a mockery of a smile – as though he’d heard that voice, down to the frigid, scornful cruelty in its laughter – as he glanced back with empty eyes and murmured, “I’d best let you get ready, then,” before quietly slipping out of the room.

Left alone in the hush once more, mind lingering sadly on the desolation that he’d witnessed blossoming in those irises, Jason eased himself up into a sitting position, tensing, breath catching as a shock of pain rippled through his system, and drew wounded eyes to the door the Englishman had shut lightly behind him. It hadn’t occurred to him yesterday, how thoroughly Julian had been entangled in all of this – Rori’s pitiless, forced displays of ‘affection’ and the marks they left on him. He’d been too wrapped up inside his own head, inside a comforting sheath of pain and anger and desolation, to think beyond his own wounds. Julian shared a bed with the man who took his pleasure from someone who wasn’t willing… And yet, he’d been there in the darkness and the blood, just beyond the grasp of Jason’s broken mind, trying to pull him back from the treacherous cliffs he’d begun to approach with a terrifying speed.

To Jason, yesterday, Julian had been an enabler. He’d seen him as a bystander who knew what was happening but didn’t lift a finger to try and prevent it.

A frail, mirthless grin ghosted across the outskirts of Jason’s chapped lips. Hell, Julian couldn’t stop Rori even if he wanted to. No one could. Rori couldn’t even stop himself.

The vampire’s own words echoed cold and hollow within the vast, black expanse of his mind.

“I have become… accustomed to having what I want…”

And Rori wanted him. It was as simple as that. Vampire wanted, vampire got. Julian… Julian wasn’t to blame for it. It wasn’t his fault; it was painfully obvious that he didn’t approve of what Rori was doing, and really, why would he, but… What could he do to stop it? Sure, Julian wasn’t normal. He wasn’t just a regular human being – but neither did he have the power to deter a creature that had been feeding upon human lives for three and a half centuries from indulging its own sadistic desires.

He couldn’t protect Jason from Rori’s lust, but he’d been there afterwards, with gentle hands and soft, gauzy bandages. Julian had been there, time and time again, slipping quietly through the bedroom door to sit by his side in the silence as Jason feigned slumber. He had felt…

In the hush, when the house was empty save for a fair-haired child contently scribbling in her coloring book downstairs, blissfully oblivious to the atrocities committed by her own father – and for her sake, he hoped she always would be – he had felt Julian’s cold, trembling hands close desperately around one of his own, and in the silence, he’d heard the Mad Hatter gradually deteriorate until he surrendered to the weeping of the grieving, and the helpless. Yesterday, he’d been angry with Julian for staying by the vampire’s side, for still loving Rori in spite of everything that he was doing; he’d seen only a guilty indifference, regardless of his unconditional devotion to Jason’s recovery.

But all along, Julian had been protecting him the only way he knew how, and just before Julian had slipped away, Jason had seen how badly the struggle was wounding him. He was powerless to stop Rori from taking what he wanted, but neither had he forsaken those left crippled and broken in the vampire’s wake. Julian had been trapped in limbo, caught in the dead, barren lands between his lover’s tragic, uncontrollable flaw, and the damage inflicted because of it upon a helpless mortal who’d been left under his protection. He couldn’t bring himself to abandon either side, and the resulting trauma – the constant, combative strain between the two forces – was slowly killing him, every time that wound was torn open anew.

I’m sorry, Julian… Throat cinching itself tight, Jason struggled to draw in a steadying breath as he clenched his lids shut against the warmth that had begun to gather there. But… Thank you, for being there – and for taking care of me. I meant it when I said you’re a saint.

And in the darkness, with the tiniest ersatz of a smile, he whispered, “… I owe you my life.”

-x-

It was one of the first times he had ever witnessed a silence so absolute, and Potatoe was the last person he had expected to let that silence reign supreme without complaint. He wasn’t sure what it was – whether it could be explained by fatigue, a certain mood, or simply the intensity of her preoccupation with her drawings that only the young seemed to be able to muster – but she’d barely said a word since their departure. The grounds had still been shrouded in a drowsy morning mist when they’d left, thick fingers of it crawling between the trees and waltzing languidly in the headlights of the Matrix.

Maybe she’s just tired, he quietly a restrained breath trickle out into the gloomy atmosphere, willing the tension to drain from his shoulders, Jason delicately resettled himself in his seat and bit back the slight, pained groan that threatened to escape in response. God knows I am.

He shot a subtle glance over his shoulder, peeking into the back seat to see a frown of utmost concentration beetling the little girl’s brows, tongue protruding thoughtfully from a corner of her pursed lips as she hunched intently over her sketch pad. Pencil crayons littered her lap and the surface of the seat; eraser shavings freckled the white spaces of the paper that had yet to succumb to a proceeding army of doodles, rioting with colour. Her bangs had been left free from her neat French braid to frame her countenance, and she didn’t even pause to impatiently push the fair locks back out of her face.

Craning his neck a little farther rewarded him with a glimpse of her rendition of Catbus from “My Neighbour Totoro” – huge ears, a long, fat orange and brown body with holes for windows, two familiar faces peeking out, innumerable stubs for its legs and a thick club of a tail trailing behind it. By the looks of things, it was running along a telephone wire, like it did in the movie.

One glance at the bright amber eyes, its toothy smile, and a small heart scribbled in cherry red told him the drawing was probably going to make its way to Artemis. She’d been the one to get Potatoe hooked on that movie in the first place. Then again, the messy burst of fuchsia hair Potatoe had drawn for one of the passengers had been something of a dead giveaway, as well – along with the big yellow eyes and all the grey marks he supposed were meant to be the German’s facial piercings. A shift of Potatoe’s sketchbook told him that, apart from Catbus, she was making a whole collage of Totoros, of all different sizes and colours, doing different things, just for her eccentric aunt.

And he could almost swear that one of the little white ones was chasing another Totoro, opening up as though to swallow its bigger, rather panicked-looking victim whole – it was probably just the angle, though. Maybe the white one tried to scare it and it worked.

You keep telling yourself that, his wiser half mumbled; a grin twitched at the outskirts of his lips regardless. It was a pretty safe bet that Artemis was going to fall head over heels in love with it on sight. She’d probably brag about it for days, flaunting it for anyone who’d look, before framing it and giving it a proper hanging place in the technological graveyard/crow’s nest she so fondly called her bedroom.

That reminds me…

There was a song he’d written a while after he’d arrived at the Manor; he and Artemis hadn’t precisely been on speaking terms at the time, as most of their conversations had been limited to graceless, awkward gesticulations, but he’d shown her the lyrics, asked her what she thought of them if she could understand them. Looking back on it now – he’d always had perfect hindsight – it seemed like a rather silly and poorly thought out endeavour; after all, she’d just started learning English, and he’d gone to her expecting critique on lyrics that were, at best, cryptic and ambiguous. At their worst, totally and completely nonsensical. But she hadn’t seemed offended or anything by it. As a matter of fact, Artemis had appeared to welcome his company – gauche though it had often been, indubitably because she’d been intimidating yet strangely attractive to him at the time – and intrigued by the lyrics and her task of deciphering them.

Something had distracted him – perhaps someone had called him away – and he’d forgotten to retrieve the song from her before he’d left. He hadn’t seen it since, and he couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, the German still had it; if, maybe, it too had earned itself the exalted honour of a frame, and its very own special place on her walls.

Nah, it wasn’t that good, anyways – I don’t even think it was finished. She probably lost it somewhere months ago.

Righting himself in his seat before bright blue eyes could flit up, curious to know who was watching, Jason let the idle chatter of the radio roll over him, sweeping over his senses like the tides of the ocean crawling onto the shore, as he heaved a sigh and his skull vomited his mind out into the world.

The prevalent silence had been broken on the ferry, just for a moment when Potatoe had tugged on the sleeve of Julian’s jacket to chirp something about a washroom. Mad Hatter and daughter had, as one, clambered out of the vehicle, and disappeared hand in hand into the rolling, patchwork metal blanket of morning commuters, leaving him once more with the churn of the ferry’s engines and his thoughts his only companions.

He could have gone up onto the deck, like some of the other motorists had, to watch the fog and the moody grey sky hover over the ocean, whiting out the dark, distant stretch of the mainland; instead, he’d remained in the belly of the ferry, staring vacantly out the nearby opening in the hull. Even though he’d known that the chill morning breeze off the water might have woken him up – as it often did, rousing the rest of his slumbering brain and invigorating him for the day to come – Jason had opted for the stale air inside the SUV.

Part of him had wanted to go topside – he’d wanted to lean on the cool railing and let the crisp morning wind caress his weary face, tousle his hair… It might have even done him some good, might have banished some of the black, putrescent shit mucked on top of his thoughts.

But in order to do so, he would have had to move – to exit the vehicle, climb a claustrophobically narrow flight of stairs up from the gut of a ferry crawling lethargically through the ocean – and the simple tasks of showering and dressing himself that morning had given him the explicit impression that it was not something he wanted to indulge in overmuch today. Granted, it wasn’t precisely comfortable to sit still, either – he’d been fidgeting almost constantly in an attempt to find a position that didn’t make his asshole scream bloody murder in the process – but… Nevertheless, knowing full and well that the only cushion he’d be sitting his poor ass on at the Academy for the next six and a half hours would be one of mercilessly solid plastic, Jason had decided to suck it up and take advantage of what few luxuries he had while he still had them.

He’d also made a mental note to ask Julian if he’d brought any painkillers once he and Potatoe came back from the washroom. Lo and behold, he had. Julian had surrendered the whole bottle without question or comment, and didn’t even so much as raise a dark, delicate brow when Jason had ignored the dosage amounts on the label, swallowed two of them dry, and then stuffed the rest of them, bottle included, unceremoniously into a readily accessible zip-up compartment on his schoolbag.

Julian made a rather belated observation afterwards that they were already painkillers of the extra strength variety, and noted that ingesting so many of them at one time might not be such a wise idea. Jason wasn’t particularly worried. He’d accidentally overdosed on mixed medications before, and he’d walked out of it – as well as a rather curious spell of lethargy and enhanced inventive genius – just fine. A little groggy, perhaps, but otherwise unharmed. After all, when it all came down to it, it was just like getting stoned, only without the weed. At the time of the incident, no one had even noticed the difference.

And if just so happened to induce anything like temporary apathy or a poverty of thought, far be it from him to complain.

He’d been left to his own devices for the rest of the ferry ride. Julian had folded his arms on the steering wheel, sighing as he’d rested his cheek on them and closed his eyes. Potatoe had rifled through her bag before settling back against her door with a Goosebumps book to read and one of Julian’s muffins to nibble apart as she did so.

Once they’d docked, they’d rolled quietly off the ferry with the others, and set out for the secluded private school in silence.

Jason was starting to hate that silence. It gave him too much time to think, to dwell on what had happened in the past couple of days.

Never thought I’d actually turn down some peace and quiet…

Without distraction, he couldn’t help but wonder what had become of the vampire after their little… chat. He hadn’t been lounging quietly in the kitchen with Julian and Potatoe. When Jason had been in the shower, he’d checked every now and then, peeking out into the steamy washroom, always expecting to see the redhead lingering in the doorway with his usual smirk or hiding just behind the curtain, leaning patiently against the wall as though he’d been waiting for him to succumb – as he often inevitably did – to his paranoia. But there had been no sign of him. Not in the shower, not when he’d been delicately dressing himself, or eating the breakfast Julian had kindly brought up for him…

There had been nothing. The vampire hadn’t even shown up to, at the very least, give Julian a kiss before they left – and Julian had walked out the door as though he hadn’t expected one.

Maybe it finally made some kind of impact on him. Maybe he’s lying low for a little while…

The vampire’s uncharacteristic absence still struck him as strange, though. He didn’t know why – the feeling was just… there. Then again, he wasn’t sure why he even cared in the first place. He should have been grateful that the vampire hadn’t shown up. Every other time Rori had taken him to his bed – relying on his usual tactics of psychic manipulation, seduction, or the slip of a potent aphrodisiac or two when Jason wasn’t looking – the normalcy of the morning after remained in large part untarnished. Granted, Jason was perhaps a bit abnormally irritable, stiff, sore, and exhausted from the prior evening’s activities, but other than that…

Maybe he was at last learning some semblance of shame.

A small, ironic huff of laughter punched itself out of his chest, lips twisting at a corner with a bleak hybrid of a grin and a grimace. You’d think I’d be relieved – I mean…

At the thought of the vampire’s habitual good humour, the way he would engage in random bursts of playful banter with the other tenants over breakfast, flirting outrageously with his lover all the while and trying roguishly to distract him from the task at hand, Jason found that this sedate grey morning was almost depressing by comparison.

It means he’s growing a conscience. It means that something’s changed, that things might start improving… So why is it that I can’t…?

Even after a night of being the libertine’s drugged and ergo physically if not emotionally responsive plaything, he would always take a moment to saunter towards Jason’s chair, pale, piercing eyes set like the very epitome of lust and all things worth lusting for – with Jason, as always, trying in vain to ignore him and evade his notice in turn. Fingers would trail intimately over his shoulder as a deep voice would whisper into his ear something lewd and provocative enough in nature to make him choke on his food, face afire… and then the vampire would ghost away, laughing, just in the nick of time to avoid receiving a particularly bony elbow with his face.

I should be relieved, but…

This morning, the house had been as silent as a forgotten cemetery. The other teens had gone on ahead to the Academy, no doubt ushered along by the Manor’s local mother-figure with the unfailing expectations that they arrive on time and properly prepared. It had been eerie, almost, to walk out of a room that didn’t belong to him and see the familiar corridor of the upper floor’s Eastern Wing without hearing the clamour of the girls in their communal washroom, preparing for the day. It wasn’t below him to admit that it had set his nerves on edge, to pad quietly down the stairway into the cavernous Grand Hall – blazer slung over his arm as he adjusted his loosened tie, and fiddled with the collar of his shirt – and hear nothing but a chilling, deathly hush from the area surrounding him.

I can’t help but feel like something’s wrong. Something isn’t right, I just… don’t know what.

There should have been some sort of raucous commotion bouncing from the walls as the teens gathered in the kitchen; there should have been a smart cuff to his shoulder as Yami plodded past him down the stairs, making a sardonic remark about how it seemed muses weren’t allergic to daylight after all. Hell, if nothing else, the Manor should have done him a favour and groaned or something – should have made some audible complaint about the noise of boisterous youths and the weight of the years as it resettled itself wearily on its foundations – but it hadn’t even given him that much.

Until Julian and Potatoe had exited from the kitchen, he could have easily believed that no one lived in the Manor at all. That he’d woken up in that strange, forsaken place alone, haunted by memories that suddenly began to seem like a dream he’d never been able to part from.

And the fact that Rori had never showed his face, not even once to tease someone or…

Realizing how absurd the notion truly was – that he had possibly, for some utterly depraved, unfathomable reason, actually missed the Englishman’s presence this dismal morning – Jason forced himself to remember the fresh, aching collection of bruises Rori had left on him in his wake. The way he’d used his lips, his teeth on Jason’s scars with a relish, while knowing full and well how it would cripple him with fear. The way Rori had deliberately sought to humiliate and hurt him.

It hadn’t been one of the nights Jason could have grown accustomed to out of sheer resignation, if nothing else. The Englishman hadn’t wanted to indulge his craving for flesh and the raw, passionate frenzy of fornication.

The vampire had indulged his craving for blood, and the deliverance of pain. He’d taken what he’d desired, and then he’d left Jason to die.

And if Julian hadn’t come… He couldn’t bring himself to complete the thought – he didn’t want to comprehend just how close to Death’s door he’d been laid. Not while knowing that it had been at Rori’s hands.

It was almost enough to make him wish, no matter how inane and pathetic it was, that it had been just another night from which he’d woken groggy, sore, and spent in one of Rori’s lavish beds, his memories fogged with the clinging residue from an evening of unspeakable pleasures. They were almost appealing to him, now, in comparison. No matter how sick or twisted it happened to be – no matter whether Rori had forced him to or not – at least some part of him had enjoyed those trysts.

After this, what was quickly becoming the vampire’s greatest offence, it didn’t even matter to him anymore if, before, the Englishman had drugged him, or manipulated his mind in order to get between his legs. If that was what it took to ensure that this never happened again, he would swallow his pride and he would prostrate himself with shame for the immortal’s use. He would welcome his drugs and his mind-tricks. If it meant going to bed with the man every night afterwards until the day Jason left the Manor, if he was guaranteed that he would never be subjected to such agony again, he would give himself to Rori without hesitation.

But things weren’t that easy, and as long as the vampire remained involved, they never would be. Even so, he found himself grateful for already feeling so numb, so detached from himself. The final realization of just how desperate he’d become – the sheer disgrace of the level he was prepared to stoop to in order to assure a future free from the possibility of suffering such violence ever again – could have been enough to make him weep.

Swallowing back the arid lodge that had wedged itself in his throat, nostrils flaring, Jason wrenched his vacantly staring eyes from the trees and sucked in a steadying breath as trembling fingers tenderly kneaded his bruised lids.

He hadn’t even been given enough time to heal up from the fight in the alley before the vampire had given him more burdens – visual amplification of the stigma that often felt as though it had been affixed to him since birth – to bear.

How fucking thoughtful of him. Inhaling long and slow through his nostrils, he let the breath trickle back out into the atmosphere as he was overcome once again by a surge of fatigue, watching the dreary grey landscape pass by without really seeing any of it.

Despite the pain still shivering through his lower abdomen, Jason’s mind was drawn with a reluctant gravity to the night the vampire attacked him. He warily probed his memories, groping through a dark haze of agony and fear for some distinct, crystalline image or thought, and retreated with nothing but a shadowy, nebulous mass of horror. It felt like a nightmare now, he thought, staring out his window, watching those phantoms through a veil of trauma as they coiled and writhed within the darkness. Seemed like nothing more than a bad dream that had left him ashen, clammy and trembling in the waking world.

Bad dreams weren’t real. Bad dreams could only harm someone if they let them, but this…

After a certain point, he couldn’t remember anything of that night save a black oblivion and the distant ghosts of pain – like his mind had simply been turned off, withdrawing deep within itself to shelter him from the unbridled savagery of it all.

Sitting here, now, in the safety and relative comfort of people he could trust, it seemed so… surreal, all of a sudden. Ever since Rori had left him in the silence of that evening – after his barrage of apologies and confessions and chilling, blood-curdling promises – to break down into choked, frustrated sobs, nothing had felt the way it should. He’d been thrust headlong into a dreamy state of denial, where part of him wanted so badly to believe that everything that had happened had been a nightmare; that any second, he would wake up in his own bed, in his normal, unusual life, and find that nothing had changed. He yearned, desperately, to escape whatever hellish dream had eclipsed the lucid world he knew, the world he loved to hate and hated to love. Even if he could only go as far back as the afternoon he’d woken in pain and confusion in Artemis’ lap…

It had been simple, to resent the vampire for never keeping his hands to himself. Arguing with him and fighting with him had come naturally. To hold him in contempt for the times the Englishman manipulated him and welcomed himself into Jason’s body without consent had been effortless. It had been common sense to hate him for hurting him, for taking advantage of him and playing with him as though he were a disposable toy – and it had been understandable to despise him for doing so without remorse.

But now… Rori had thrown a wrench into things with his apologies and his muted, submissive confessions. Rori had ruined all of it, everything that used to be so goddamn easy…!

“It’s a horrid thing, that feeling.”

Recalling the flickering instant of serenity and security that he’d felt enfolded in the vampire’s arms, the indecision tearing at Jason’s mind intensified, jerking his thoughts this way and that while leaving him trapped in the middle, fraught with confusion and straining in agony under the tension. Sagging in his seat, sore lids drooped shut as he leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window, letting its chill touch guide him gently back to reality.

I don’t know what to think anymore. I just… I don’t get how he can be so kind and so unbearably cruel at the same time, his thoughts morosely croaked. It’s like there’re two completely different people in there, and… He knew it was weak, but for just a moment, part of him began longing for the man who’d held him that night in the kitchen, the one who’d whispered consolations into his hair and calmed the fear his nightmare had left seeping from his pores. Even before that, before Rori had convinced him to talk to him about his dream, he’d been someone…

“Dammit, Rori, you nearly gave me a freaking heart attack!”

Matching the boy’s glare with a flat stare of his own, Rori released the tension from his shoulders and casually leaned on the door of the fridge. “Yes well I’ll have you know that were I capable of such things you would’ve given me one also. Congratulations,” he retorted in a peevish drawl, a wry, sarcastic smirk plucking at a single corner of his lips.

Was it wrong of him all of a sudden to want that man back? Sure, so he was still insufferably horny and lewd and smug… He never knew when to keep his mouth shut, he had a comeback for fucking everything and he always had to have the last goddamn word… But even so, it was worlds better than the sadistic beast that had raped and savaged him in the night.

A tiny, mirthless grin tugged at a corner of his mouth. After something like that, attracted to the man or not, being the vampire’s sexual plaything didn’t seem like such a big deal all of a sudden – even if he did get a little too frisky sometimes and left scratches or bruises in his wake.

But he always took them away. He never…

“Believe me, I know what rape is,” the immortal smiled a mockery of his usual grin, tainted by the cruelty in luminescent pools of garnet left dark and hollow by the pupils that nearly consumed them whole. “I just don’t care.”

Heaving a tired, beaten-down sigh, Jason let his lids sag shut, brows deeply furrowed, and nestled the curve of his forehead into a more comfortable position against the cool glass, arms loosely folded at his stomach. There’s not really any way to win this, is there? No matter what I do, I’m always gonna end up losing. Melancholy mismatched eyes cracked open, peering out through the mist and the beads of condensation into a world that seemed to spite him for no fucking reason at all. God… Deflating and leaning heavily against his door, Jason squeezed his eyes shut again and held himself tighter – a feeble resistance against the chill burrowing steadily deeper into his bones. Why couldn’t it’ve just been a nightmare…?

-x-

It had started raining by the time they crawled to a halt in front of Blackthorne Academy’s stone steps, curtains of precipitation blanketing the world in a dull wash of grey that Jason found remarkably suitable for his mood. Judging by the growing darkness of the clouds looming drearily overhead, the drizzle would thicken into a downpour, and he found himself listening quietly, hopefully, for the telling rumble of thunder in the distance. After all, what would suit recent events better than the omnipotent presence of a thunderstorm? The fingers of lightning raking across the sky would give him something to watch during class; the deep, malcontent grumbling of the thunder would keep his mind rooted in awe and fantasy. Even if it was only for a little while, the storm would give him a place to hide if the rest of the world failed to distract him.

It could be his sanctuary, that war amongst the clouds, and maybe – just maybe – the rain could wash him clean.

… Rori engulfed in flames, burning, screaming, seared into the back of his mind.

“Jason?”

Silver and dark russet eyes flitted away from the sky, tearing themselves from their places among moody grey clouds to dart over the details of Julian’s face. He looked wan in this weather, Jason noticed, the usual milky tone of his skin dampened to something drab and sickly – his entire appearance suddenly seemed a mere shade of what it would have been in the sunlight. The tarnished blonde waves of his hair, pulled neatly up into a clip at the back of Julian’s head, had become dull and lifeless; the shorter locks that had been left to ripple freely around his face seemed not so much intentional as unkempt. There were the hints of bags the Englishman had mindfully tended to shadowing murky grey-brown eyes, and… Without that smile, he’d never realized how easily Julian could resemble a forsaken angel in mourning.

“He is sorry, Jason. More than you could ever know…”

“Jason, are you all right?”

Severing himself once more from the enticing grasp of the more creative – and destructive – portions of his mind, Jason’s lids inelegantly beat themselves like the wings of a bird struggling to take flight as he shunted the muse within him back into its closet and slapped some sense back into his consciousness. “Yeah.” Jason gave a tight shake of his head to clear his thoughts, lids fluttering in a series of last emphatic blinks, and turned an apologetic grin to the curiously frowning blonde. “Yeah, sorry. Natural proclivity for daydreaming kinda kicked in there.”

The pin-scratch between Julian’s brows smoothed itself away as the slightest nuances of a smile touched the corners of his lips. “I suppose you come by it honestly enough. Being a muse, and all.”

“Well, I don’t know what it’s like with others,” Jason gave a half-hearted grin as he shrugged, “I’m kinda the only one I’ve ever met, but… Yeah, that’s generally how it goes with me. Music, general observations, and my head’s permanent residence in the clouds. Um, anyways…” Platinum and brown irises darted down to the SUV’s cup holder, gaze scrutinizing nothing in particular while his thoughts raced, his heart gnawing on something in his chest over a question he’d been meaning to ask Julian since they’d left. He’d just… never been able to scrounge up the courage needed to do so. Not with it being so quiet. It had felt like a taboo, to break that glassy hush. But now that Julian had banished it, he had the choice to either grab his bag, thank him for the ride, and head into the school, or…

“Are you sure you’re all right with this, love?”

Ripping his eyes from its intent, albeit interrupted scrutiny of the cup-holders, Jason could only gape blankly at the man for a second before his mind picked up the pieces and fit them together, sparking realization. So he was a little slow on the uptake today – at least he had a good excuse. “Oh. Yeah,” he murmured with a nod, staring fixedly at the handle for the glove compartment. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. Like I said,” Lifting his gaze to Julian once again with a smile he knew looked as fake as it felt, Jason gave a lax shrug to reassure him. “Done it before, I can do it again.”

Not surprisingly, Julian didn’t seem convinced. “All right. Um, if…” Shy brown eyes flitted up to him from their corners before returning to aimlessly wander over the speedometer. “If something happens, though – or if you change your mind,” another quick glance, “I’ll have my cell phone with me, so if no one answers at home…”

“I’ve got your number,” Jason gently finished for him, head bobbing with a subtle nod. When the Englishman gave a slight smile, a delicate flush unfurling within his cheeks, Jason pulled a frail grin onto his lips. “If something happens, I’ll call. I’ll be fine, Ju – ‘s just school.”

Nodding, the blonde’s smile began to wither, his lower lip trapping itself and worrying itself between his teeth – left index finger lightly tapping itself to a restless, contemplative beat against the leather steering wheel. Jason felt the knot in his chest convulse and suddenly loosen; seeing his opening, he took it, and stumbled headlong into the new situation as gracelessly as ever.

“You, uh…” Jason staggered to a halt, painfully aware of Julian’s curious gaze as he wet his lips and quietly stared at the beads of moisture on the windows. A deep, shaky breath sucked itself into his chest, a frail attempt to center himself. “You okay, Julian? I mean, maybe it’s just me but… I dunno, this whole morning’s been kinda screwy, y’know? And you’ve been really quiet and y’just seem kinda… blah,” a flickering fragment of a smile at his choice of words, “for lack of a better term.” There was a beat of silence, saturated with words unsaid, until Jason softly gathered the strength to make them manifest. “More so than usual, I mean, after something like this.” Another pause, but this time, his voice managed to escape in more than just a sombre murmur. “I mean, call me a sentimental nancy-boy if y’want, but… I dunno-“ When the words ran out, silence chasing after them with its jaws hungrily gnashing like a demonic PacMan, Jason sighed and scratched absently at the corner of his jaw. “I’m a little worried, is all. That, y’know, something happened that you maybe don’t wanna talk about, or something.”

Keeping a wary silver iris trained on the older man from the corner of his eye, Jason’s fingers slowed to a halt but remained adhered distractedly to the left side of his jaw, the cold touch of his fingertips barely even registering against his skin. All he could do was watch as the tiny mimicry of Julian’s smile withered on pale lips and dark gold brows drew down and in, etching a miniscule crease into his forehead when the inside ends curved just the slightest bit upwards. A muscle jumped beneath the suddenly taut skin of the Englishman’s cheek, nostrils flared, and Jason didn’t even realize that his hand had slowly lowered itself – he was too busy taking note of the way Julian’s had gently furled around the bottom of the steering wheel.

“Julian?”

Finally, the blonde’s ashen brown eyes tore themselves from the abyss they’d vanished into, flitting towards him from their corners before sliding down to pool in his lap as he visibly swallowed. For a second, Jason thought Julian would just shrug it off, tell him it was nothing he needed to worry about and give him that smile like everything was okay. Instead, his voice was quiet, distant, and ragged around the edges when he finally spoke up. “Rori never came to bed last night.”

Outside, Jason heard the low, distant rumble of thunder, and a tiny, greasy chill oozed down the back of his naked neck. ‘Kay… God? That wasn’t funny.

Reminded of all the things both cruel and wistful that had passed through his mind since the vampire had attacked him, Jason’s mouth went dry, causing his throat to lock up in defiance, clogging, when he tried to swallow. It took him three tries, each more strenuous than the last, to clear his throat and force that thick, slimy barricade down so he could speak. “What do you mean, he…?”

Julian’s entire façade crumbled for a fleeting moment as he buried his face into his hand, fingers pressing into his eyes beneath his glasses, and as though it had only just now struck him, he shot a hasty glance over his shoulder into the back seat. Following his gaze, Jason saw Potatoe contently furled against her door with a book braced against her raised knees and small baby blue buds plugged into her ears; she had a little purple iPod resting on the seat, and by the twitch and waggle of the toes beneath her socks, he could tell that music was dancing like the Northern Lights in her mind, leaving her all but oblivious to the conversation taking place in the front seat.

Julian drew in a long, steadying breath as he smoothed his palms back over his hair. Laying them with a deliberate calm on the curves of the steering wheel, the blonde took a moment to center himself before he began to speak in a voice run through with the tiniest of trembles. “I was with him last night in the library, to… to talk with him a while about all of this. I must have dozed off, but…” When Julian went quiet, Jason could do little more than watch as his jaw worked itself beneath the flesh of his cheek and his delicate nostrils flared again with evident worry. “But when I woke, it was much later, and I was in our bed. He must have moved me there, but it looked as though he hadn’t come to bed at all. The sheets were…” The blonde’s shoulders sagged as his lids glided shut, his head bowing for a moment and brows creasing in a visible attempt to compose himself, to focus on what was more important. “There was no note, no sign of where he went, and I haven’t heard from him since. I know that he’s prone to going out at odd hours, for whatever the reason, but…”

“It’s not like him to leave without saying something?”

“Not at all. Not after something like this.” The dark haze that had swirled into the Hatter’s eyes cleared all of a sudden as a pained smile spread across his lips. “I’m sorry, this must all seem terribly dramatic and paranoid to you, not to mention selfish. Forgive me, I… I shouldn’t have said anything – you’ve got enough on your mind as things are.”

Left at a momentary loss by Julian’s apology, Jason managed a stiff shake of his head as a hum of disagreement vibrated in his throat. “No. No, it’s okay, Julian. I mean…” Disappearing into his thoughts, Jason deeply inhaled and rubbed a hand over his mouth as the breath languidly trickled out through his nostrils. He simply shrugged. “After, yeah, something like this, I guess you have a reason to be worried.” A harsh, humourless chuckle roughly jostled its way out of his chest. “I mean, he kinda offered to off himself, for christ’s sake. Like he figured that’d fix everything.” And I was almost tempted to take him up on it.

“You don’t think he…?”

The meaning lurking beneath those words wouldn’t have been clearer even if Julian had screamed them at the top of his lungs with a megaphone, and Jason’s heart transformed into a hard little knot in his chest at the thought of it.

I told you not to do it. You made it an oath and I told you not to do it… Struggling to maintain his composure around the hot swell of pain and anger that suddenly flared within him, Jason hated the way his throat cinched itself tight for a second time with an emotion he couldn’t control. So help me god vampire if you go back on your word again I will never, ever forgive you. I will hate you with every fibre of my being and for the rest of my fucking life if you break your promise to me again.

“Doubt it.” The words wrenched themselves from his chest without him even realizing it, and they were gripped in the iron fist of a tremble born from his rage and his fear. “He’s probably just moping somewhere. He’ll turn up. He always does.” Without knowing whom those words were meant to comfort, and without waiting for another traitorous surge of emotion to break him entirely, Jason thanked the blonde for the ride and stepped out into the downpour. He didn’t feel the haunting pain of the vampire’s violent presence within him, flaring hot and bright within wounded organs; he didn’t feel the chill glass as he shut the door behind him. For a time all he knew was the patter of the rain as it sank through his hair and clothing, beading his lashes and creeping down his face, the back of his neck, and the menacing growl of the thunder, slowly drawing nearer.

-x-

Watching Jason stalk stiffly through the rain with a heavy heart, Julian permitted the tense breath that had been stagnating in his chest a chance to stream free; as though it had deflated more than just his lungs, slender shoulders wilted into a slouch and heavy lids sagged shut. He knew he shouldn’t have mentioned Rori – he knew it and he knew there was a damned good reason why, but he’d allowed his mouth an inch of liberty and it had taken a mile.

“Well surprise-surprise, Julian,” Li sardonically chimed, rolling unearthly turquoise irises, reclined lazily where Jason had sat just moments prior. Pointedly crossing naked, finely tanned arms, the spirit shoved a bare foot against the dashboard and scowled out the window. “I don’t know whether I should laugh or just call you a fuckin’ dumbass right now. I mean,” a broad, maliciously amused grin turned itself towards him as the spirit jerked his thumb at Jason’s back, “your undead cockrub buddy just viciously butt-fucked that kid, almost killed the queer little shit, and you’re crying on his shoulder that the guy who raped him has suddenly gone M.I.A.” His first soul stared long and hard at him for a time in incredulity; he couldn’t help but watch the strange blue-green phosphorescence eddy within the confines of his irises like an unearthly mist. “I mean… Seriously?” Li chuckled, shaking his head as he resettled himself in Jason’s seat to peer out at their surroundings and distractedly scratched his dark brow with the nail of his thumb. “I just find that fuckin’ hilarious. Even more so actually ‘cause it came from you, of all the fuckin’ pansy-ass feel-good fanny-boys out there. Talk about fuckin’ irony.”

Making a marked effort to ignore the scathing ridicule of the first soul he’d devoured upon being force-fed the curse of a Mad Hatter, Julian dipped his head and reached slender fingers beneath his glasses to knead his aching eyes. For the first time in many years, he was tempted to simply tell the man out loud to shut his bloody mouth if nothing good was going to come from it – but he knew that even if he did, it would serve little more than to provoke another onslaught of pointless malice, and he didn’t want his innocent baby girl to hear him bickering with someone who didn’t exist in their world.

It would only frighten her, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. His having schizophrenia was bad enough – his harbouring of the malevolent, vindictive soul of a deranged lunatic was the worst possible factor fate could have added into the equation. He didn’t want her to grow up as he had, fearing the very figure meant to nurture and protect. Not ever. Not if he could help it.

Medical science had been managing the illness nature had bestowed upon him. Julian had to control the disease driven down his throat as a child on his own, with little more than patience, courage, and willpower as his tools – and he reminded himself of this as his temper crackled beneath the unending barrage of Li’s indefatigable contempt.

Wrangling his mind back to the matters at hand, Julian took one last breath to center himself, to soothe a disposition left testy after many long hours of stress, grief, fatigue and anxiety, and let his gaze wander through the rain. He was worried about Jason. Surely enough, the muse had shrugged off his concerns, trying to put his mind at ease by saying that today would be like any other day, but while he knew of Jason’s resilient nature, he could not disregard the fact that this hadn’t been like the other times.

Rori had healed the vast majority of Jason’s wounds, that much was obvious. The scratches and lacerations were gone, but the bruises remained. Where there were bruises, there would be questions, speculating where they’d come from and how they’d come to be there, even if only out of the desire to satisfy one’s natural human curiosity.

But Jason’s band-mates would have questions driven by more than simple intrigue; in their eyes, someone had lain hands on their companion, their friend. While, granted, it wasn’t often that the teens brought their school friends home – and he supposed he could hardly blame them, given the nature of the household and its inhabitants – he’d spoken with Jason’s band-mates frequently enough to know how close they were to him. Randy was the one with an unending fount of energy, his curious nature and fierce sense of unity seconded only by Artemis’ own. Skye was the pacifist, the peace-maker during troubled times. Luke was the protector, the elder brother to them all. They would be concerned, quite possibly furious that someone had left such marks on one they cared for like family.

Julian couldn’t help but sadly wonder whether Jason had what it would take to lie to them.

“Like I said… Done it before, I can do it again.”

Not like this, love, his heart sadly whispered. Never like this…

When another deep, malcontent rumble drifted distantly through the atmosphere, he drew in a long, thoughtful breath, holding it for only a moment before it rushed out in a single down-trodden gust. Forcing himself to acknowledge that there was nothing more he could do now other than quietly cross his fingers, wishing the muse luck – praying to be careful, to take things easy and to avoid unnecessary confrontation at all cost – Julian sagged back into his seat and stared down at the gauges and meters for the SUV.

Be safe, love.

Turning his mind away from the Academy, away from Jason and the thought of the ordeals he would inevitably face throughout the day, Julian felt the image of his lover rise up to the surface of his mind and gently break through the misty haze of his awareness.

“He’s probably just moping somewhere. He’ll turn up. He always does.”

His heart clenched in his chest, remembering all too well the tenderness of Rori’s embrace, the despondency and the agony he’d felt when the vampire had held him for what he was sure would be the last time. He had offered his life to Jason – desperate to atone, to make things right – and Jason had refused his sacrifice. But Rori…

What if he doesn’t…?

To a vampire, three years was little more than a few days to a human, but three years had provided Julian with ample time to learn Rori’s ways, to chip away at the silky, prurient armour he wore against the rest of the world. Rori had opened doors for him, invited him in and shown him willingly parts of his being that few other caught even glimpses of; other times, when his lover had deemed it “unpleasant” or “unsafe,” Julian had wriggled in through the cracks, gently coercing the lock to open or, if necessary, he had removed those barriers by force. He knew Rori – the things he took pleasure in, and made him happy, as well as what would strike his temper; fragments of his history, the hidden treasures and landmines of his personality – but even after three years, he could not predict his actions.

In that way, Rori was still utterly, unfathomably a stranger to him.

He knew that Rori felt remorse, and that when something mattered so much to him, he would do anything to make it right. He would sacrifice anything to make it right. Julian knew with a painful, frightening certainty just how easily his lover could abandon reason and rationality in his search for redemption – how, sometimes, he sought to punish himself if another would not do it for him – and he was terrified that, in this, Rori had been pushed beyond his limits. He was terrified that he might still do harm to himself in a desperate attempt to atone.

Rori had made a vow signed in blood. Jason had turned it down. But to Rori, it was still an oath, and it was still very valid. Even if Jason hadn’t wanted it, if he thought it would make even the slightest bit of difference… If he thought it might prevent him from hurting Jason, or another like him, ever again…

Li snorted with a harsh laugh in the passenger seat. “Oh for the love of- Give it a fuckin’ rest, already,” the disdainful spirit snarled, turquoise irises aglow, saturated with ethereal colour even in such dreary surroundings. “Didja ever think that – just maybe – instead of being out there tryin’ to make a sacrificial victim of himself, he’s just drowning his sorrows in some poor fag’s asshole? Y’know… Like he usually does? He’s a fuckin’ selfish insecure sex-addict-slash-rapist with baggage and a mental defect,” Li spat. “Not a goddamn martyr.”

Inwardly rolling his eyes at the spirit’s petulance, Julian settled a forearm across his stomach and lifted his left hand to his mouth to broodingly nestle the crook of his index finger between his lips, distractedly watching the sky weep sheets of dismal gray rain as his thumbnail paced lightly along the side of his finger. There was the soft, insistent patter of it against the rooftop and windshield of the SUV, lovingly easing him into the depths of his mind, freeing him from all physical restraints as he wandered through the streets of the city, searching for any likely candidates that might lead to his lover’s hiding place.

I can’t imagine that he’d have gone to Atlantis – it’s too busy, too corporate for him to feel safe and secluded there. South of Eden and Quarias are both too racy after something like this… Haps- At the thought of the luxurious hotel with its ocean-fronting rooms and rich, welcoming décor, Julian felt his instincts lean towards it for only a moment before they discarded it as a possibility. It was private, yes – but it was not a place in which Rori had made himself at home.

That left Hellfire, an underground bar-cum-nightclub that welcomed supernaturals and humans alike, and one of the only places the Manor visited often as a near-collective – despite the fact that all of their wards were technically still minors – while Potatoe was left in Allan’s capable, if somewhat blackmailed, hands. Whether Rori had scheduled Faith for a shift behind the bar or because Jason and his band had been enlisted to offer entertainment for an evening, as they often were, it was a virtual home-away-from-home for the youths of Bloodstar Manor. Hellfire was a place to relax, and have fun; it harboured both good memories, and bad.

And Rori spent far more time in his office loft there than he did in those of any of his other business ventures. Julian still hadn’t decided whether to attribute it to his lover’s fondness for the business itself or the fact that he had a small harem that usually occupied the office with him. Either way, it was the most likely of the places that the vampire would retreat to in distress, and in the time that it would take for them to reach its downtown location, it would be nearly ten-thirty. The day-time tender would be arriving to tidy the place up and ready it for any curious clientele that decided to wander in; chances were, the underground building would be quiet, and calm, a striking contrast to its night-time self, when it would be alive with bone-jarring music and the fervour of dancing bodies.

If Rori wanted someplace safe to brood or do damage to himself, that would be it. Julian knew that there was a chance he was simply being paranoid, but the nervous, gnawing tension in his gut and in his soul had been right before. He didn’t dare start doubting it now.

-x-

His hair was sopping wet by the time he’d climbed the stone stairs and tugged open the heavy wooden door to the Academy’s antechamber, sidling in out of the weather with his blazer soaked through at the shoulders and his sneakers uncomfortably drenched. With a quick glance down, his jaw tightened and he saw the pale, vague shadows of caramel skin through his white button-down.

Great, just what I need – lookin’ like I just came from a wet T-shirt contest. He grabbed the front of his shirt in annoyance, peeled it off his skin, and squeezed out a sorry little trickle of water onto the entry mat. Heaving a breath, raking his fingers through sodden brown strands, Jason smoothed them back against his head, certain that the shorter bulk of it would be left sticking up at odd, spiked angles but predictably enough, he couldn’t bring himself to care. With his own words echoing eerily through his mind, wet, funky hair was the last thing he felt inclined to worry over. A see-through shirt, on the other hand… Well, given that virtually his entire body was mottled with bruises, he was more concerned that people might start asking questions, as opposed to the usual attention drawn by a wet white shirt moulded to a muscular – and moderately darker – torso.

Then again, he wasn’t really in the mood to have gaggles of girls molesting him with their eyes, either. Before moving into the Manor, it would have given his ego a teasing stroke, and he might have been inclined to roguishly play on it a little. Now, it made him feel something like a man in a steak suit who’d just walked into an enclosed habitat full of very hungry lionesses; because contrary to popular belief, men might be a mite more open about how hormonal they are, but in Jason’s opinion, women still topped the charts in the Predator Department.

So, much as he abhorred the only option left to him, he decided at the last minute to swallow his pride, button up his blazer, and just deal with it until his shirt had dried off enough to return to its normal state of opacity.

Man, that action alone would have broken Rori’s little black twisted heart if he’d been around to see it.

Tch, good riddance, his thoughts mordantly snorted, wilfully ignorant of the fact that not but a few moments ago, he’d regarded the notion of Rori’s disappearance with a queer mixture of fury and concern. He didn’t try to understand why suddenly he’d pulled a one-eighty, and he didn’t much want to, either. Why d’you even care if he’s gone? Means he’ll never lay his hands on you again and I’d say that’s a cause for celebration.

Unaware that his fingers slowly began to curl into fists at his sides, Jason scowled with a dark, conflicting riot of emotions down at the mat beneath his feet.

“I wish that I had been left to die all those years ago, if this is what I was doomed to become.”

His voice died in his throat just then, and for a while, he could do nothing but stare into the darkness as his vision was overwhelmed, smudged into chaos by a veil of tears. “You’re part of the only family I’ve got. I can’t…” Convulsively shuddering hands tightened, nails biting into his palms and his knuckles aching as they shook in his lap and his head bowed, jaw gritting itself until it hurt, eyes clenching shut. “I can’t just throw that away. Now get out.”

Unaware that he’d adopted the same pose he had in that murky memory, Jason sucked in one strained breath after another in an attempt to stave off the fear closing itself around his neck like a vice. If you kill yourself… Sniffling loudly in the silence of the entryway, he roughly wiped the moist remains of the rain from his eyes and for a split second found himself doubting whether or not he could do this. Whether he could truly manage to fake his way through an entire day of classes, confrontations with teachers, and the doubtless many inquiries of concerned comrades without betraying himself in the process.

No, you can do this, his mind sharply countered. You’ve done it before – you can and will do it again!

But it had never been this bad before, the unseen wounds that made his heart seize in his chest, made his eyes water and his memories scream.

He almost killed me…

“I’m so sorry,” the vampire thickly uttered. Cool lips pressed themselves to a cut on his shoulder, and Jason watched from the edges of his peripheral vision as Rori’s brows furrowed in profound remorse. “I can’t believe how cruel I was to you. I am so very, very sorry.”

Jason, knock it off. You dwell and you’re just making things worse.

Rori had confessed – he’d had reasons for doing what he did, no matter how petty they’d seemed at the time. He’d offered his own life as compensation and had admitted to his wish for death.

And now he’s missing…

“Jason…” Glancing up at the sound of his name, Jason found himself locked in Rori’s eyes, entranced by the open sincerity of them as they flitted over his face, absorbing even the tiniest of details when long fingers came to brush against his cheek. “I would never abandon you. Never.”

And it’s not your fucking problem!

What if…?

“Like it or not… You’re part of the only family I’ve got.”

“Ah, and you must be our new ward.” Eerie, glacially pale green irises glimmered up at him from beneath dark, devilish brows as sensual, smiling lips bent themselves to his knuckles. “Welcome to Bloodstar Manor, dear one. ‘tis an utmost pleasure to receive you into my home.”

Jason, he did this to you, all right!? If his heart and his brain had been two different entities, his brain would have gripped his heart by its shoulders and shaken it, shaken it hard enough to make it hurt. Even standing there in the antechamber by himself, he could feel something closing its fingers around his soul, digging them into it and staring eye to eye with the fractured and confused essence of his paradoxical spirit. He’s raped you more times than you can count, damn near killed you, and you’re snivelling about him disappearing like he was your fucking soul-mate or something! And you don’t see something wrong with this picture!?

But…

“What of your family, dear one?”

“I, uh… I don’t really have a family. Well, not one that I know of, at any rate. Yay for amnesia.”

“Then, perhaps – if you would allow it – we can be your family.”

“Er… Thanks, but, ah… I don’t know. That’s not really something you can just say, y’know… ‘sure, why not’ to.”

“Only you can decide what you want, Jason… If and/or when you make that decision, I shall be waiting.” The slightest flicker of a smirk twitched at his lips. “Granted, it will be impatiently, but I shall wait nonetheless. After all, I was being nothing but honest when I said that I would never abandon you.”

SNAP OUT OF IT.

Sucking a deep breath into his lungs, hefting his backpack higher up onto his shoulder – left more confused than before – it seemed to take every last ounce of resolve Jason had ever known just to make his body move, but once he started, he didn’t just freeze up, as he’d feared. Ancient, knotted roots didn’t rupture from beneath the bland gray tile of the boot room, clinging to his feet like so many petulant children and adhering him to the spot. Concrete didn’t flood through his pores and the rubber soles of his beaten and battered shoes, drying instantaneously upon contact with the flooring. After one step came another, and another after that. Without wavering, Jason breezed through the second set of doors, his sneakers obnoxiously squeaking and squelching down an unnervingly wide, empty hall to the office.

Just try to get through the day, another part of him reassuringly murmured, guised in the soothing cadence of Julian’s voice. It cradled the hysterically fluttering thing in his chest and drew it close, gently stroking it until he felt it go still and silent against the cage of his ribs, like a wild bird calmed by the presence of its mother. It nuzzled deeper into the being’s warmth, into the safe, comforting downy bulk of its existence, and allowed itself at last a chance to doze in peace. We can worry about everything else later, all right? But for now, just take things one step at a time; stay calm, be yourself, and everything will be okay.

He struggled to ease the tension from his body, and thus, the undoubtedly conspicuous stiffness in his gait, but the very instant he did so, he was rewarded with a swift skewer of pain. His breaths caught in his chest, expression going tight and strained until the worst of it subsided.

Pulling his watch out from beneath the cover of his sleeve, Jason took swift note of the time – 9:26, still a good twenty minutes before the bell for the end of first period rang – gave his trembling hands a quick shake, and tried to clear the dark, troublesome thoughts from his mind as he neared the open office door. As long as Boss-Bitch Dachenheimer wasn’t around, he thought he might be okay. If she was…?

If she is, today’s going to be taking a premature dive down the crapper.

He just really, really hoped that wasn’t the case.

Coming to a wary halt just before the door, taking a steadying breath and struggling to calm his sickeningly antsy nerves – Mama had flown the coop yet again – Jason swallowed the wash of saliva set loose by anxiety and peeked hesitantly into the quiet office. The lively, chatty secretary wasn’t at her desk tending to her various clerical duties, or reading one of the god-awful romance novels she could often be seen with when things were slow; beyond that, the doors to both the principal’s and vice-principal’s offices were open, and seemed to be empty through the plate-glass windows cuddled up to the doorframes. As far as he could tell, no one was in.

Finally, his mind huffed. Jason, one. Life? His mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. Still kicking my ass. Even so, better late than never, I guess. Edging around the wall and gently rapping his knuckles on the door – keeping a watchful eye on the corridor at the back of the office that led to the faculty room – Jason’s heart clumsily staggered when a sharp, painful-sounding hybrid of a bang and a clatter erupted in the silence.

“Sonuva- Jeezus- ow!”

That… kind of sounded like it hurt. Jason’s brows jumped as one and, feeling comfortably certain that – for the moment, at least – the principal wasn’t going to descend upon him like the bastard child of the Grim Reaper and a screaming banshee, fully equipped with a glistening scythe and an ominous shriek that made his hair stand on end, he warily approached the desk. Well, if someone had to be in, at least it’s Ms. B.

“Sorry, sorry, be right with you in just one sec…”

Leaning his elbows onto the raised counter joined to the forward face of the secretary’s workspace – no doubt to obscure her work from the prying eyes of nosy students – Jason craned his neck over the reception desk and felt a helpless, baffled grin squirm onto the corners of his lips as the behind of a smart black pencil-skirt began wriggling out from beneath the keyboard tray.

“Hel-“ The very instant she straightened, however, one hand frozen in the action of smoothing dishevelled strands of her blonde bob, expressively large blue eyes widened further around the glasses that had slid down her nose, and her pretty face went slack with shock. “Oh my goodness Jason…! What ’n the… Your face!”

“Mornin’ Ms. B.” Slouched casually onto the reception desk, Jason felt a small blossom of heat unfurling within his ears as he shot the speechlessly gawking secretary an embarrassed smile. Not that I really needed the reminder that I look like shit, but…

“Oh my gawd…” Gaping in disbelief as she pushed herself to her feet, pale blue eyes gave him a quick, stunned once-over before a look of concerned sympathy softened her expression, “Ohmigawd and you’re soaked through you poor thing what happened?” Without missing a beat, the secretary planted her fists on her hips and fixed him with a scowl of exasperated disbelief. “Did you get into another fight again?”

“Uh, actually, for one thing, I’m wet,” Jason sniffled and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “’cause it’s raining outside, and… Yeah… Something like that. Wish I could say, ‘you should see the other guy,’ but uh, not really applicable in this situation.” Not that he particularly disliked Ms. Binky or anything – as a matter of fact, since she was one of the only faculty members who hadn’t decided to hate him on sight, he was actually rather fond of her, never mind the fact that her voice, accent, and carefree personality reminded him vaguely of the villainous Harley Quinn, whom he adored – but the fewer details she knew, the better. Fishing the note Julian had given him that morning out of his pocket, Jason held up the folded paper for the patiently waiting woman to see. “And I got a note from my guardian for bein’ late.”

“Oh,” she squeaked; “Thank ya.” Any and all austerity fled from Ms. Binky’s countenance as quickly as it had appeared as she plucked it out of his fingers, plunked herself down in her chair, adjusted her glasses and unfolded it, hastily scanning its contents before irreverently tossing it aside on her desk. She leaned forward onto her elbows, arms crossed, and mismatched eyes instinctively took a quick plunge to the unbuttoned neck of the secretary’s blouse, flashing over smooth, pale skin of her chest, a fine silver necklace, and a hint of cleavage, before they snapped back up to her face.

“Well y’know you’re lucky you came in now, ’cause Ms. D’s out and she had your friend in here a couple o’ days ago,” a vague, circulatory gesture of a manicured finger as she pointed it at the surface of her desk, “for pickin’ a fight with some of Derek’s boys…” She let the sentence trail away with a miniscule dip of her head, knowing full and well that Jason was probably already aware of the rest of the details, which he was. “She’s just waiting to get her hands on you like you would not believe.”

Jason did his level best not to let his grimace manifest. Great, so that’s one more thing I get to try and avoid today. Wonderful. Knowing the secretary, however, and her inclination for long, rapid strings of speech, he remained quiet and patiently waited for her to finish. It was an endearing trait, her chattiness, but sometimes it jammed itself in one ear before immediately toppling out the other, with little more left behind to show that it had been there at all save a severely abridged summation. After all, Jason wasn’t exactly renowned for the longevity of his attention span. Certainly not when half of it kept wandering back down to Ms. B’s neckline. The svelte contours of her neck, the comely exhibition of her clavicle, and, yes, the small, dark crevasse between the swell of her breasts.

“I keep tellin’ her you probably had nothing to do with it apart from tryin’ to help the poor girl – o’course she doesn’t believe me, butcha know…” The blonde fixed a grumpy, mocking scowl on her pretty face and pointedly folded her arms. “Ya’ll’re bunch of no-good trouble-making delinquents, as far as she’s concerned. Between the two of us though,” Ms. B lowered her voice, waggling a finger between them as she leaned in, an impish smile spreading across lush, dark cherry lips, and batted the notion down, “I don’t believe a word of it.”

Jason shot the grinning secretary an appreciative wink. “Thanks for trying anyways, Ms. B.” And if that wasn’t sincerity at its finest, he didn’t know what was. “Nice to know at least someone’s on our side.”

The secretary merely gave a dramatic swat of her wrist, dismissing his gratitude like opposing their principal wasn’t practically punishable by death. “Nah, don’t thank me. You’re too much of a sweety to be as bad as she thinks an’ I’m a pretty good judge of character.” Jason couldn’t help but grin as Ms. B proudly aimed her thumb at her chest, hand on her hip, with a sly smirk and a confident nod. Rolling her chair closer to the desk, she leaned her elbows onto its surface and peered up at him with sympathetic concern. “Speakin’ of, though, d’you want somethin’ for your face, hon? And maybe a towel? Icepack or painkillers or anything? That’s gotta hurt somethin’ fierce.”

Absently lifting his fingertips to where the worst of the bruising still tainted the flesh around his left eye with dark and ugly colours, Jason stopped himself just in time to keep from touching it before he shook his head and re-crossed his arms on the reception desk. “Nah, I’ll be okay. The worst of it’s gone down, anyways.” A lop-sided grin tugged at a corner of his mouth. “You should’ve seen it when it was still all swelled up. Nasty.”

“Yeah, betcha it musta been a real shiner when it was still fresh.” Jason pursed his lips and gave her a mute, wide-eyed nod of agreement that made her laugh. “If you need anythin’ though you come straight here an’ I’ll hook you up, all right?”

“Will do.”

Glancing up at the nearby clock, clear blue eyes flitted back down to him from behind frameless glasses and thin, carefully sculpted brows plummeted in a pout as she drew in a light breath. “Well, you better get goin’, sweets.” She gave an implicative nod up at the clock. “Bell’s gonna ring soon and that means Ms. D’s gonna be back any minute, so you take care and lie low for a little while, y’hear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jason gave her a lax salute as he straightened from the desk and hefted his bag on his shoulder. “Thanks again for the warning and everything, Ms. B.”

“No problem! I swear she’s way too hard on you guys and, besides,” A playfully flirtatious smile plucked at her lips, “half the time hearin’ from you’s one o’ the best parts of my day.”

Firing the secretary a mischievous grin and another roguish silver wink – that was no doubt ruined almost entirely by the ugly blotting of purples and browns around his eye – Jason began backing towards the door. “Careful Ms. B – I’m not legal for another year.”

Gasping with mock appellation behind her desk, eyes wide, Ms. B returned fire just as quickly, an accusatory finger aimed in his direction. “Mistuh Riley that is sexual harassment-“

“Yeah but you started it,” He countered with a devilish smirk. Holding his palms out splayed at his sides, Jason gave an innocuous shrug and let his grin widen of its own accord. “I was just giving you a friendly warning.” Pivoting easily on his heel, he bit back a grimace as he wheeled carelessly out the door.

“Oh, yo- Get your butt to class!” The secretary yelled after him, voice ringing with a playful smile.

Shambling away from the office, quietly grinning to himself and left in a minutely better mood than he’d been before, Jason thanked his lucky stars for Ms. B’s employment at the Academy. Honestly, he didn’t know what he – along with the rest of the teens in the Manor – would have done without her, smiling behind her desk, vouching for them every step of the way and allowing them to be normal teens instead of the wards of a mysterious billionaire who, along with living in a supposedly haunted house, was rumoured to have ties to the Mafia. He didn’t enjoy going to this school for any reason, but Ms. B’s presence at least made it bearable. More often than not it seemed like she was the only faculty member who wasn’t actively out to get them for some reason or another, who actually stood up for them and believed they were more than just bratty trouble-making degenerates who enjoyed thumbing their noses at authority simply because they could.

Although, if someone were to ask, Jason probably couldn’t have been bothered to deny that, sure, maybe some of them had issues with authority to begin with – ‘them’ being mostly Artemis, Faith, and himself. Artemis because she thrived on the illegal activities of pirating, bootlegging, hacking, general theft, and just about anything else that involved adrenalin, a computer, causing mischief, and ripping someone else off; Faith because of her fiery, proud, and independent attitude; and Jason…?

Well, Jason was starting to think he’d been born into this life as a trouble-magnet, and when trouble decided to rear its ugly head, he responded accordingly. Which had gotten him sent to the office or arrested on multiple occasions, and spurred frequent bouts of scolding from Julian. Yami would have called it juvenile delinquency, and pointedly remark that his magnetism for trouble was something he often brought upon himself. Jason just didn’t like taking shit from people if he had any say in the matter. After all, he didn’t know how long he’d have this life; he wanted to live it to the fullest and have fun while he could.

Never mind the fact that Rori was supposedly part of the Mafia – which Jason was pretty sure was bull – or a broker in the Black Market – which was entirely true. He was rich, and his donations were probably one of the only reasons why the Academy could still afford to function with working electricity and plumbing; ergo, Dachenheimer could bitch them out as often as she pleased, but if she expelled them, she did so at the expense of her precious private school. Consequently the rest of the student body had somehow got it into their heads that because of that, anyone who came from Bloodstar Manor was a well-to-do upstart who thought they were better than everyone else and could do whatever they damn well pleased because of their influential, filthy-rich guardian.

What the rest of the student body didn’t know, was that most of the residents of Bloodstar Manor had been transients before they’d been scooped up off the streets by Rori O’Connor – mostly orphaned in some way or another, wanderers, just trying to get by in any way they could. As far as Jason knew, none of them had been well-off before they’d crossed paths with the vampire. They’d depended on themselves, and only themselves, because they’d had no other choice.

They’d fallen through the cracks of society, but Rori and Julian had found them, taken them in… They’d given a motley collection of beaten and battered strays a second chance at a normal life.

So if they were the pariahs of the Academy, it was only because they had been submerged in a world of arrogant, privileged adolescents who took for granted what so many others could only dream of. The youths of Bloodstar Manor had been offered a rare life of comfort, but that hadn’t been enough to make them forget who they were, or where they came from. (Except for Jason, who’d never really known any of that to begin with.)

Artemis – an illegal immigrant, and a felon out of necessity – had been homeless, starved, and going through withdrawals when Rori found her half-dead in one of the stables. Kali had run away from the Saskatchewan reserve on which she’d been born, ridiculed because of the white mother who’d walked out on her and her Native father. Faith had been orphaned as a child by an armed robbery, and she’d been forced from Ireland, from the beloved family-powered garage in which she’d worked with her uncle and cousin, by gangs after injuring one of their members in a street race. Yami and Yue had never told anyone their stories, but Yami had been in sorry shape when Rori had arrived with the youth cradled unconscious, bandaged, and gaunt in his arms. When asked about his strange accent, the half-breed had told them that he’d once lived in New York – and London, before that – but nothing more.

And then there was Jason. The amnesiac. The guy with the freaky, mismatched “Manson” eyes, and the scars on his wrists. The talented musician with attitude, but no past – no family.

Not even so much as a legitimate birth certificate. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, he didn’t even exist.

Tearing murky, far-off irises up from the floor, somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to feel surprised when he saw that – while he’d been lost in his thoughts again – his feet had taken him through the Academy without stumbling and without error, down to the very hall that housed his locker. His next destination.

I’m living a false life. None of this is actually… real.

Idly trailing the tip of his tongue along the undersides of his molars, Jason let his gaze sag to the floor again. Everything that was allowing him to live now – every last shred of his identity as he knew it – had been forged. Even the driver’s license they’d found on him when Sniffles witnessed a gang of dark, faceless men discarding his body in a dumpster had been a fake. Artemis had confirmed it with nary an ounce of effort. She and Rori had infiltrated the government database to create an identity for him, after months spent searching for the missing links had turned up nothing. Artemis had relayed through Julian at the time that the fruitless results could be attributed to a counterfeit name. It hadn’t been stolen, as far as she could tell – but neither could she locate any solid evidence that a Jason Vaughn Riley, one silver eye, one brown, had ever been born August 28, eighteen years beforehand.

Tabula rasa – the blank slate theory. Me in an extra-compressed nutshell. Without truly knowing it, the weight of the notion settled on his shoulders, forcing them to wilt and bowing his head ever so slightly as he plodded towards the corridor his locker was in. If that isn’t depressing, I don’t know what is. A single, flickering mental glimpse at his wrists told him the answer to that, with all the smugness and arrogance in the world.

Even so, this was all he had.

Slouching further as a small, desolate breath leaked out of his nostrils, Jason gave his head a tiny shake and distantly scrubbed his fingers back through his damp hair as he approached his locker.

Nothing quite like the feeling of waking up one day and realizing that you’ve been living in the Matrix the whole fuckin’… two years of your life, his mind sullenly mumbled to itself. Kinda startin’ to wonder when Mr. Smith plans on showing up. Although, a grim, feeble smile plucked at the corner of his mouth, somehow, Mr. Riley just doesn’t have the same ring to it as, ‘Mr. Anderson.’

Letting his hand do the thinking as he spun the numbers of the combination into his lock, Jason quietly wished that he could find some way to turn his mind off, as well. Things would be so much simpler if his hands could just do the mental processing all the time. Certainly the band and his guitars would love him for it – might just convince Sniffles to get off his back every once in a while, too. Sadly, he knew all too well that such a thing would never happen; in essence, his brain loved hearing itself think. It loved to create puzzles out of topics that should have been elementary, common sense, and/or otherwise straightforward… and then abandon him throughout the course of trying to solve the bloody thing.

Like this whole mess with Rori. That was the cream of the crop as far as prime examples went.

Jason froze for a moment, bleak eyes staring into nothingness, petrified by the memory of Rori’s weight on his back; the sound, and the sensation of his laboured breaths against his ear as a cool hand cradled his damp forehead, fingers twined with moist hair tilting his head back so hungry lips could kiss his throat. He could still remember the feeling of being impaled by the length of the vampire’s sex, how he’d rocked to the rhythm of it as it ardently worked itself in and out of his body. He remembered with a painful clarity the pitiful, breathy sounds he’d made, how often he’d buried his face into the vampire’s bed sheets, hands convulsing into white-knuckled claws around bunches of fabric as his arched back began to ache from the vigour of Rori’s thrusts. And no matter how hard he tried not to, Jason began to tremble with shame when he remembered the powerful, crippling rush of the orgasms he’d experienced each and every time the Englishman had used him.

Don’t, Jason. Just… don’t. Please.

Jerking his lock open with a petulant, metallic click and unhooking it, Jason huffed out a tremulous breath as he tugged open his locker and exposed its slovenly contents for all the currently rather vacant world to see. Not that there was really much in there – mostly stray papers, bits of leftover garbage, some binders, and his textbooks – but nevertheless, the sheer carelessness with which said contents were regularly shoved in would have been enough to make any clean-freak hyperventilate on the spot. It never failed to amuse him, watching the change in expression of some of those aforementioned clean-freaks, whenever they saw such blatant displays of general clutter and disorganization. He had a bet going with Kali that, before the year was out, Yami would bribe Artemis to crack one of their locks so he could clean things for them if they wouldn’t do it themselves – and he’d added another twenty dollars onto the bet that Yami went for Kali’s locker first.

Kali figured he wouldn’t bother, that it would be more trouble than it was worth.

What Kali didn’t know was that he had plans on planting some of Yami’s belongings in her locker, and that it would only be a matter of time before he tore the whole school apart looking for them once they went missing. He’d also added a little Yami-deterrence to his own locker by plastering the inside of the door with things that Yami would deem, ‘distasteful’, and ultimately make him blush brighter than a tomato every time he happened to catch a glimpse of them.

Hello, Playboy bunnies. A weak, lifeless grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Also, he’d left some garlic stuffed in the front corners. Bristly little twit hated that smell. Jason, on the other hand, couldn’t even tell it was there anymore.

Plucking out his biology textbook and its corresponding binder from under the mess, Jason tucked his tongue in his cheek as he sent a distracted, sidelong chocolate look to the sultry models decorating the inside face of his door. When the first thing that immediately came to mind involved a tall red-headed leech that went by the name of O’Connor – when he heard the vampire’s sensual voice whisper his name, saw a brief, violent flash of the night he’d almost torn him apart – a disdainful grimace overtook his countenance and he slammed the door shut.

“Boo.”

That was when he realized – scaring the shit out of him, in the process – that Randy had been not-so-patiently waiting on the other side, arms folded pointedly across his chest, shoulder leaned casually against the locker next to Jason’s own, with an unimpressed glower frozen on his dark face. It was, of course, ruined utterly by the sucker creating a comically large mass in his left cheek, but it was either Randy wasn’t aware of its dampening effect, or he didn’t care, which immediately implied that things were about to embark on their second trip south of the morning. And unfortunately Ms. B was nowhere to be seen.

Still clutching at his chest and struggling to still his racing heart, Jason swallowed down the lodge in his throat and sent the bassist a peevish glare. “Jesus, Randy. Way to give a guy a fuckin’ heart attack.”

Randy didn’t even seem to hear him, unwrapping one of his arms from its annoyed knot to stab a dark, calloused finger at him in accusation. “Y’know you better be ten different kinds of relieved that I’m so fond o’ that goofy ass of yours, Riley, ‘cause otherwise I’d be kickin’ the ever-lovin’ shit outta it right about now.”

And here we go, Jason quietly sighed to himself. Hooking his lock back into place, he made a marked effort not to meet his friend’s eyes as he snapped it shut. Just like any other day… “Well y’know I’m flattered you like my ass ‘n all, but-”

“That’s not what I meant and I’ve already got a woman, thank you very much.” He didn’t have to glance Randy’s way to know that deep brown irises were taking a sarcastic, critically appraising stroll down the length of his body; a shudder quite nearly managed to wrack his composure, frigid, raking fingers clawing up his back, before he succeeded in suppressing it. “And one with a much nicer rack than yours, might I add.”

Locked in the murky, blood-stained memories of Rori’s wicked eyes, luminescent from within the shadows, Jason became painfully aware of his silence as well as his inability to answer as Randy’s patience expired and he yanked the sucker from his mouth.

“Dude seriously what the fuck’s been up with you lately?” The bassist uttered, his voice soft and low as he leaned in with his brows furrowed, carving deep trenches into the flesh of his forehead. “You ditch when we plan on jammin’ and come to school wit’ your face lookin’ like it decided to make out with a wall-“

Like any other day… His mind urgently murmured. A frail grin plucked at an edge of his mouth as he shot the bassist an arch glance. “Speaking of ditching, shouldn’t you be in class?” Somewhere from deep within himself, he felt his body begin to move; he’d turned away from his locker, his feet moving him at a languid pace towards his next class. His hands were shaking unstoppably at his sides.

When the bassist’s hand whipped out to seize his shoulder and pull him to halt, however, Jason almost succumbed to his instinct to instantly recoil, to slap his friend’s hand away with the back of his wrist and a snarled demand not to touch him. Instead, immediately defensive eyes snapped to Randy’s exasperated countenance; he turned just a little too quickly to face him, and without even realizing it, one of his feet had jerked back to put a modicum of extra distance between them. But if Randy had noticed, he didn’t give any sign of it. Those dark, stubborn, frustrated eyes remained adhered to his face.

“Yeah ha ha ha, very funny,” the trenchant mockery of a grin dropped from Randy’s lips like a boulder, “I ain’t laughin’.” There was a mulish set to his jaw, and Jason knew that no matter what he said now, Randy wouldn’t let it go until he got an answer he deemed satisfactory. Jason felt the jaws of panic clench themselves around his chest. “I mean it, man.” A single hand flung itself out to gesture sharply into the distance at days past. “A couple days ago you showed up with half your neck wrapped up like some Candy-kid mummy and now y’look like that mummy decided to beat your sorry ass with a two by four! Man if those assholes’re givin’ you shit y’gotta tell me or something – you know I’ll back you up! I’ll go foshizzle my fuckin’ nizzle gangsta mode on all their wussy asses if I have to and I don’t even know what that fuckin’ means!” Left hovering helplessly in the middle of the corridor with talented hands hanging limp and useless by his sides, shoulders hunched in defeat, all semblances of the bassist’s anger and energy drained from his being, sucked out of him with the same total, meticulous savagery as a vampire. Even if he’d been given a hundred years of solitude to practise and hone his skills, Jason couldn’t have drawn a more perfect expression of pleading than that which Randy wore on his face.

Able to do nothing more than stare at the bassist, eyes flitting over the details of his ever-expressive countenance and taking them in as though this might be the last opportunity he would have to do so, Jason felt a tiny part of his soul shrivel in on itself when he knew the only answer he could give Randy was an incomplete and otherwise dishonest one.

“Look, it’s…” He sucked in a deep, slow breath as he wet his lips, his mind scrambling for words, for a lie – a half-truth, anything but the whole truth – he might be able to make sound convincing enough to draw off his friend’s concern. “It’s nothing, Rand, okay? It’s been a shitty week, what more do you want me to say?” He gave a feeble half-shrug, a delicate lift of his hand, “Some of Derek’s cronies were givin’ Arty a hard time, I got involved, got in over my head, and…” Another speechless lift of his hands before one them waved itself along his bruised countenance in mute explanation. “This happened. Last I checked, it’s not unusual to get the occasional bruised eye or something when you get into fights as often as I do.” With a light, weary inhalation, he continued elaborating his half-lie, “Add in pissed-off guardians, various assorted problems at home, and you get a generally shitty mood, which would be why I’ve been flaking out on you guys. For which I apologize, ‘cause I know I’ve been an asshole about it, and I know how much it pisses me off when Josh does it to us.”

Scrutinizing him for a long, tense while, a barrier of suspicion erecting itself beneath his visage – large dark eyes comically narrowed, mouth quirked broodingly to one side – Randy let a deep, slow breath of resignation slip free as he replaced his sucker in his cheek with an exaggerated cynicism. “Fine,” he mumbled; all too quickly, the guise of vexation returned as those eyes widened again, brows arched, and Jason found the bassist’s finger aimed in his direction. “But I find out you’ve been feeding me bull and so help me boy…” Randy tightened his mouth, tilted his head, and pulled his flattened hand back over his opposite shoulder. “I will bitch-slap yo’ ass all the way to Aussieland and back, I swear to God.”

Warding his theatrical friend back, Jason gave a vulnerable shrug and gently chuckled as the bell gave a shrill, head-splitting chime overhead. “Okay, okay. Chill, I get the picture. Pax?”

Randy shot him a scowl as he sucked on his treat, stuffing his hands into his pockets and slouching back to class. “You still owe me Chinese, asshole.”

Falling stiffly in step beside him, absently reminding himself to take more of those extra-strength painkillers next time he got the chance, Jason softly snorted with a laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

“And why’re you walkin’ so funny? Y’look like you just got ass-raped by a jackknife or something.”

… So not funny right now. “Fuck you, man,” he petulantly muttered. “My back hurts.”

“Oh-ho, looks like someone hasn’t been gettin’ any lately. Or maybe you have, just the wrong kind. Hmm…”

Jason cuffed the bassist sharply upside the back of his head as other students – all with normal lives, with memories and families and ordinary, human problems – began flooding into the halls, the clamour of life jostling his troublesome feelings brusquely, even if only momentarily, to the very outskirts of his thoughts.

-x-

To Be Continued…

-x-

So, like it? Hate it? Wish it would spontaneously combust? Leave me a review and tell me all about it! C’mon, I wanna hear everything! –maniacal cackle-

Sorry, lots of back-seat-brain-stuffs happening in this one, I know, but I think it was necessary. Kind of goes to show how completely and totally confused and conflicted our poor muse is about everything right now, though, doesn’t it? All the same, I hope there was enough going on to at least keep everyone interested. Once again, this chapter was originally supposed to be longer – of course, the more exciting stuff happens later, tch – but in the interests of updating a little more frequently, I decided to end it where it is. It’s still thirteen pages – in my teeny tiny size six font at 140 percent magnification, ah haha – so I figured that should be enough to justify submitting it as a chapter.

Er, well, that, and I need to figure out what in the bloody hell I’m doing with the next bit. More added content… Yay! :D … DX -thumps limp hand against chest before she drags herself away to be shot and put out of her misery-

Review Replies!

Phoney132: Oh my goodness! Best one so far, really? Thank you! Considering how much of a pain in the ass it was, that’s quite the compliment! 3 I know what you mean about how fast everyone got over things in the original. It didn’t really strike me at the time – then again, I was writing it purely out of self-indulgence, and I was five years younger/dumber than I am now – but later…? Lawdy it just made me shudder and cringe and want to throw myself off a bridge. So trust me, ha ha, I get where you’re coming from as far as that’s concerned. It, as well as several other choice parts, sucked ass, period, end of story. Which makes it all the more gratifying to know that things are finally getting set straight in this one. XD (As for the updates… Well I think we all know it takes more than a few months – and I’m trying to get better about that, really I am! – but it warms my heart, truly and deeply, that these chapters are worth the wait. Once again, thank you so much!)

Rei Inaki: Yay for improving, and thank you so much, as always. I have to admit, the kind of scary thing about rewriting this, and particularly with how it’s been going, is that I’ve just now realized that it’s very much got the whole butterfly effect thing going on. Even with little changes that were made in earlier chapters, I had to alter later events, or bits of dialogue, to accommodate the subtle shifts of their relationship and how it’s been developing or degenerating in that particular situation, and the influence of those little pieces has become more and more prominent and widespread. Maybe that’s just me overanalyzing it, but that’s what it feels like. And I’m not gonna lie – it gets kind of frustrating. I’m starting to wonder whether I’m ever going to get back on track with the original. XD But hey, you guys make it worthwhile. I think I would’ve given up a long time ago if not for my readers – devoted ones in particular, wink wink, nudge nudge. Thanks again, it means the world to me.

Dorchise: Hee hee, thank you so much! Definitely, if the original was missing anything, it was reality – that is to say, insofar as reality can be involved when dealing with a story involving the bloodsucking undead and other generally fantastical things of the like. XD

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