Title: The Vampire's Apprentice
Rating: M
Cast:Nick Cutler, Rachel Cutler, Hal York
Disclaimer: I own no-one from Being Human.All the rights belong to the BBC and I do not intend to, nor am I making any financial gain from the writing and online publication of this story.
Feedback:Is always much appreciated, thanks!
Summary: Once upon a time, Hal York saw in Nick Cutler a most promising young apprentice. It's amazing what a difference a week makes, especially when your fledgling struggles to live up to your expectations…
Chapter 1
It happened in seconds.
His throat was wet.
Something hurt.
That didn't make sense.
Then, unlike anything Nick Cutler had ever felt, the pain shot through his entire frame as if machine guns filled with bullets of fire emptied themselves into his soul.
He registered the heavy weight of the man leaning against him. No- pinning him against the wall. With a violent lurch of his stomach, he realised that the dampness on his neck was blood- his blood, and that the man currently fastened to his throat was drinking.
Cutler's stricken screams shattered the cell and he fought and struggled against his assailant with every muscle. Eyes wide as an owl's he heard his own heart thumping in his ears, felt the blood trickle down his clammy skin and tasted salty cold sweat on his parted lips. Gasping and panting to catch a breath, his brain frantically tried to make sense of what was happening to him, but found none.
The pressure suddenly released and through fogged, dim eyes, Cutler saw the man retreat a few paces, leaving him to slip down the wall into a heap on the floor. He tried to stand, but his legs seemed to have forgotten how to work. He tried to speak, but his tongue refused to comply. His arms lay like lead weights, pulling his shoulders further and further towards the icy cell floor.
He shuddered, though whether from the temperature, or from the hellish, unspeakable throbbing that pulsated through his body, Cutler wasn't entirely certain.
The man crouched down to his level and Cutler tried to lift his head to meet his gaze, but the effort proved too strenuous.
'Wh-what are you?' he managed to say, his voice a choked whisper.
The man gave a soft laugh like liquid silk. 'Hmm, interesting. Less expletives than usual. Oh, forgive me, Mr Cutler, I'm usually accustomed to people asking me what I've done to them, when the answer is, well, as you can see, ludicrously obvious.'
'Are y-you going t…'
'Sorry?'
Cutler swallowed, regretting it immediately as a bizarre sensation of air passing directly into his throat through his neck made him gag.
'…k-kill me?'
There was that laugh again. It made the hairs on Cutler's arms stand on end. His vision swam before him and little sparkles of colours danced across his eyes. His mind felt disconnected from his body.
'Of course not. If I'd wanted you dead, I would have done so. Silly boy, Nicholas.'
'Then, w-what?'
There was a slight shuffle of movement and Cutler inhaled sharply as he felt the man press close against him, felt the warmth of his breath on his ear…
'Tell me. Do you want to make history, Mr Cutler? I can give you everything you've ever wanted…all it takes is one little word…'
'I…'
The man glanced at his watch.
'In less than a minute, you will be dead, Mr Cutler. Loathe as I am to hurry you…'
'Yes…'
'Hmm?'
'Yes!'
If smiles could have been audible, Cutler had a feeling this man's would have been accompanied by a marching band and several choirs. As the edges of his vision began to grow dark, Cutler felt something soft, warm and wet forcibly pressed to his lips.
'Drink.'
'Mmpfh?'
'Drink, man!'
Something inside Cutler suddenly reared, and his arms sprang back to life. Without his permission, they grasped tightly at the object pressed against him and he drank, feeling his mouth fill with the taste of hot liquid metal – somehow the most thirst quenching and energising substance he ever had drunk.
He could feel life returning to his limbs...feel a strange heat rippling through his body like a sparkling electricity. His eyes began to focus again, and the dark blurred shapes around him began to sharpen.
As the world shifted back into view and the dense fog of his mind began to clear, Cutler also noticed that the raging agony in his neck was now little more than a dull ache.
Air rushed into his mouth as the source of that beautiful elixir was wrenched away. To his surprise, a sound akin to a whimpering mewl escaped his lips and he felt a great, inexpiable pang of loss. He wiped his mouth, feeling a slight dampness there.
Glancing instinctively down at his hand, Cutler's breath hitched and his eyes shot up, filled to the brim with terror, as the man who, sitting a little way across from him, cradled his bleeding wrist with little more than a paper-thin wince. If Cutler could have been more horrified, it would have been than , as before his very eyes, the deep gash on the man's wrist knitted together into perfectly smooth skin.
Then, out of nowhere, as if someone had plunged an axe into his abdomen, Cutler keeled over onto the ground into the fetal position. He clutched at his stomach, howling, with tears of abject terror and agony pouring down his stricken features.
'It'll be over soon. Ride it out,' that now familiar voice assured him through the blinding white pain. 'You and I, Mr Cutler. We are going to write history, and do you know what? We shall be glorious.'
It was a sudden violent coughing fit that awoke him. The insides of his mouth felt as if packed with tiny furry animals, scratching and clawing at the back of his throat.
Grappling around in his still dazed state, trying not to gag, he reached for the glass of water he always kept by his bedside, gulping it down. As the splutters subsided, he sank back onto his pillows, eyes closed for a few moments.
One dazed eye finally opened, followed by the other, as Cutler attempted to ascertain when precisely he had fallen asleep. He lay quite still, his brain aching as it tried to process and sort fact from fiction as his body returned reluctantly to full consciousness.
…Teeth.
He blinked some more, rubbing sleep from his heavy eyes and running his tongue along his jaw with a grimace. Had he cleaned himself at all before going to bed? Apparantly not.
Come to think of it, Cutler couldn't remember returning home last night, let alone getting into bed. He frowned deeply, trying to recall the night's events with immense difficulty.
'Ah, darling, you're awake!'
Cutler snapped out of his trance at the sound of his wife's voice. Rachel Cutler stood in the doorway of their bedroom, arms folded across her chest and wearing a knowing smirk.
'You look like hell, Nick,' she smiled with an impish glint in her eye. 'You never could handle your drink.'
Drink?
Cutler stared helplessly up at her, realising a few moments too late that his mouth was hanging open, giving him a rather impressive look of a surprised codfish.
He sat up once more, wishing suddenly he hadn't, as the room span, everything seeming a little too in focus and sharp for his liking. Dear God. How much had he had?
'Sorry, Rach, I don't know what happened,' Cutler replied sheepishly but wholly truthfully. 'What time is it?'
She nodded at the clock on his bedside cabinet. 'A little after three.'
'In the morning?'
Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes at her husband. 'Afternoon, sweetheart.'
Cutler stared.
'…WHAT?'
'It's fine, Nick, don't worry,' she said, sitting on the end of the bed. 'Must say, I'm grateful for your friends bringing you home – God only knows where you'd have ended up otherwise - Kent probably!'
'Friends?' Cutler frowned once more. That was strange. He barely knew anyone at work yet. Only Mary who cleaned his office and the two guys from accounting across the hall, but even then only in passing.
'Yes, it was a little odd though. They were already walking away after they left you in the doorway and knocked on the door. I tried to call after them, but I guess they didn't hear me,' Rachel shrugged. 'Still, you're home and that's what matters.'
Cutler swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. 'What did they look like?'
Rachel frowned thoughtfully. 'Hmm, I don't know. It was too dark to see really – but they're your friends Nick, surely you know what they look like,'
Cutler forced a mutual laugh. 'Yes…yes, of course.'
'Well, I must say I'm glad you're finally being social at work. It can only lead to good things, Nick. Good for you and good for us too come to that.'
Rachel laughed, stroking her husband's cheek with her thumb fondly, her expression knitting in concern.
'…Nick, you're all clammy – what's wrong?'
Good for us…
Cutler shook his resolve, biting his lips before shaking his head with a smile to fool the world. 'Nothing, love,' he replied, forcing confidence into his voice, 'just a bad dream.'
'You sure? Maybe it's best if you stay in bed today and recover – do you want some soup?'
'That'd be nice,' Cutler nodded.
Rachel smiled, leaning in to embrace her husband warmly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 'We'll have you right in no time, sweetheart.'
Cutler froze in her arms. He knew she was speaking words, but he felt suddenly like his ears had been filled full of water and he couldn't make any sense of what she was saying. All he could hear was a distinct, deep and somehow hot thudding. It reverberated in his ears and even through his body like he was pressed against the outside wall of a rowdy bar.
He swallowed, trying to get his ears to clear, and as he did so, his mind began to fog over, all other thoughts forgotten. Instinctively, his eyes darted to Rachel's skin. She had such a beautiful complexion – how did he not notice every moment of every day how soft, warm and palpable her skin was? How creamy and inviting it looked and how it drew him in.
Leaning in, he pressed a lingering kiss to her neck. 'You're beautiful, Rachel,' he murmured into her throat, voice husky, pulling her close and nuzzling gently. 'I should tell you every day – why don't I do that?'
She gave a soft laugh, winding her hands in his hair. 'Flattery gets you everywhere, darling…'
The thumping in his ears was getting louder by the moment and he felt it – through every fibre of his body he felt that pulsating rhythm, calling to him – begging him to jump, to fly, to bite…
Suddenly, to Cutler's horror and confusion, he felt himself salivating and with something akin to a strangled whimper, wrenched himself out of his wife's arms – shrinking back against the headboard, his breathing shallow and ragged.
Rachel stared at him, her expression unreadable as anything other than fear.
'Nick? Nick, what's wrong?'
Cutler couldn't reply. The thudding in his ears was clearing a little but his eyes stayed locked on Rachel's throat. What in the world was happening to him? Whereever did such terrible thoughts spring from?
It must be the alcohol, he reasoned, trying to calm himself down. He swallowed, his mind racing before he jumped from the bed, pulling his clothes on, not caring with his coat.
'I need some air…not well…' he managed to croak out, not daring to meet Rachel's frightened, worried gaze.
'I'll come with you!' she sprang up.
'No!' He didn't mean to shout and a whole new wave of guilt swept over him as his wife shrank back a little at the sudden violence in his voice.
'No…' he said, a lot softer. 'Sorry, Rachel…I need to be on my own for a while. I won't be long, I promise. I just need to clear my head.'
'Alright,' she replied. 'But Nick, take your coat – it's freezing out there!'
He grabbed his coat from the peg behind the door, wrapping it around him as quick as his trembling hands could manage before swiftly exiting the room, heading out the door – the first time in their lives he had neglected to kiss Rachel goodbye.
Once outside the house, Cutler walked as fast as he could down their street, mind in as much of a whirl as the autumn wind that buffeted around him. He rounded the corner and stopped dead, staring straight the man that stood barring his way, wearing a smirk as sharp as his tailored suit.
'Hello again, Mr Cutler. I trust you slept well?'
Cutler couldn't speak. He couldn't move.
He wasn't even aware of his hand raising itself to his neck, feeling the little heat in his face evaporate as the memories of the night before came crashing back into his mind as if someone had wrenched open a dam.
'You…' he managed to get out. 'What the HELL did you do to me?'
Hal looked faintly disappointed. 'Now, now, Mr Cutler, there's no need to shout. We're both civilised gentlemen– let's go somewhere and talk, hmm?'
In one swift movement, Hal was at Cutler's side, one arm around his shoulder before Cutler could protest otherwise.
'Keep walking, Mr Cutler. Yes, that's right...just keep on walking…'
Cutler's feet seemed to have been activated by Hal's voice and they obeyed him without question.
'W-where are you taking me?'
'Shhhh, Mr Cutler. You'll spoil the surprise – just keep walking…'