Author's Note – This is my Christmas Count/Earl Cain fic. This can be set probably any time after Mark Of The Red Ram, but before Castrato. The OOC-ness in this story is appalling! But, it's Christmas, so, up it goes ^_^ some implied Cassian/Jezebel, but not much. Rated PG-13 just because of the slight violence and a tiny bit of strong language.

Oh yeah, and in true me-style, it's angst-a-licious.

Disclaimer: I do not own Count/Earl Cain (Hakushaku Kain). I do not own Jezebel, Cassian, Alexis or Cain. They all belong to Kaori Yuki, Hakusensha, Hana to Yume comics etc. This is a piece of fiction written by a fan, and I make no profit.

Dedicated to Hanieh – My best friend and inspiration for this fanfic, and one of the biggest Jezebel fanatics around.

- My Christmas Present to all Earl Cain fanatics and Fanfic Writers! Merry Christmas! -

O Come, All Ye Faithful

- A Cain-Christmas Fic -

The whip cracked like the sound of horse hooves on cobblestones. Snapping back and up and snaking down again, forming red slashes on the pale white skin. Again, it snapped down, and up, and again and again… the red markings growing more and more pronounced in colour. The figure's spine stuck through the skin, stiffening with every blow.

Not once did a whimper escape his lips. Not once did his eyes tighten. Not once did his face contort in pain. He lay, a perfect mask, his eyes not seeing, glassy and still. His ashen hair, soaked in sweat, fell unceremoniously into his face. His glasses lay, forgotten, on the floor, one of the lenses slightly cracked.

Jezebel knelt, his body draped over a chair, exposing his bare back. His hair was pulled over his face, and the only clothing that graced his body was grey, soft trousers. His taut back, tense, and now covered in those red stripes, dripped in cold sweat, though, the snow outside was biting and cold, and the cold found it's way into the room, even though the windows were tightly shut.

Alexis stood over him, his arm rising and falling with each snaking crack of the whip. The bright winter sun reflected in his glasses, so that his eyes were obscure and hidden. His dark hair was neatly combed back from his face, and his shadow fell over Jezebel, cloaking him in darkness.

And the third person in the room, short, quiet and forgotten, surveyed all this. His face was that of a child, though the age and experience he had suffered through in the past, shone through his eyes. Cassian's fists were clenched tightly, but he did not notice the sharp pangs of his fingernails creating painful groves in his palms.

*This is disgusting…* he thought, darkly, as he heard the slap of the whip once more. *To watch this child being subjected to this… and have him not even cry out in agony… to have his face so blank… this is fucking disgusting*

Of course, Cassian had known that this had been happening for a while since he became his Doctor's assistant. But he had never watched it happening before. Never seen it with his own eyes. Since he had become the Doctor's assistant, he saw himself as a father figure in a way, toward the Doctor. Cassian wasn't a sentimental man, past experience had taught him well enough, that love was not to be trusted… but the Doctor seemed so helpless in a way. Though he was a cruel man, malicious, even… Cassian had seen him touch an animal with the tenderness of a mother to a child. How could a man, capable of such tenderness, be completely evil? And since then, Cassian had quietly resigned himself as the man's protector. Though it seemed idiotically gallant in Cassian's eyes, there was just this feeling of not being able to leave the man alone. He had never felt that way toward any other person before… in fact, after the incidents in the circus… he had vowed never to love again, and felt only bitterness and hatred toward other humans.

In truth, when Cassian saw Jezebel, he saw a mirror of himself. He saw his circus master's whip crack down on his own back again. He saw Jezebel's coldness toward humanity, and his resignation from life. The younger male was in many ways, exactly like Cassian. And that disturbed Cassian greatly.

In any case, though Cassian had heard of Alexis's cruelty toward both of his sons… but had never seen it with his own eyes. He had blankly accepted it, and though he felt guilty about it, somewhere in his subconscious, he had decided that if he didn't see it, he could pretend it wasn't happening. After all, Master Alexis was his boss. And Cassian couldn't change that. Though deeply, he knew, he had loyalty only to the doctor, and the doctor alone.

And also… was it that, the doctor seemed to be… enjoying it?

Cassian didn't feel that he could understand Jezebel… at least, not consciously. The connection he felt with his doctor seemed to be on an almost blissfully subconscious level. But now, if he looked into Jezebel's eyes, right now… he couldn't understand the blankness of them… the dull light of almost bliss reflected there. Somewhere, in Jezebel's mind, he was being loved. Each slash of the whip, and each burning mark, proved to him, somewhere, that he was loved and valued. And Cassian couldn't understand that. He couldn't comprehend it. How could someone translate that much pain into love? When Cassian remembered the abuse he had suffered in the circus, he could only remember blinding rage. And the flashes of red and the cold eyes of the woman he had loved so dearly.

Cassian had killed the woman he loved… but she had not truly been his. He had felt her warm scarlet blood on his own fingers, and had felt the love he had for her die in the cold fires of his rage.

And his circus master, whom had beat him with the whip as Alexis did to his doctor now. His cold body, lying on the floor as a consequence of his action.

In the same way Cassian felt that he had transformed love into pain, Jezebel seemed to have the twisted gift of transforming pain into love. Each crack of the whip told him that he had a place within his father's mind, that he was not useless to him.

And Cassian could not bear it.

The "punishment" (if one were to call it that, and in any case, it seemed to Cassian it was more of a punishment for himself rather than the Doctor, being forced to watch and not being able to do anything to help) came during this week of Christmas. Snow lay heavy on the ground, and for Christmas, Alexis had forbidden anyone to go near his son, Cain. Cassian was not sure why. Possibly, Master Alexis had not wanted Cain's suspicions aroused by anything… or something. But Cassian was not really interested, and in all honesty, did not really care about the blasted Earl, upon which the Doctor was so fixated upon. But, the intense pull that Cain seemed to have on his brother, meant that the Doctor completely disregarded this order, and wandered aimlessly after the boy and his (disgustingly, Cassian thought) tall valet. His cold eyes watching them with an alarmingly vacant look.

Cassian had voiced his doubts, of the anger of Master Alexis, but Jezebel had dismissed it with but a wave of his hand. And when the punishments had started, Cassian was not allowed to leave the room. It seemed to him, that possibly, Master Alexis was aware of the bond that was forming between the two and wanted Cassian in there as to make a point to The Doctor. But then Cassian dismissed that thought. He was unimportant and ignored. Seen only as a child.

Once again, he fixed his gaze on The Doctor.

*It's almost as though he wanted this to happen…* Cassian thought, miserably. *Why the hell would someone resign them self to this?*

Cassian was distracted by the soft voices of Christmas carolers from outside. He smiled bitterly. *Hark The Herald Angels Sing, huh? It's not like Jesus Christ ever helped me…* he looked at his seemingly young hands. And then looked at the Doctor, as he was being beaten again and again.

*It's not like Jesus Christ ever helped him, either*

Where was this glorious king, if he could not find two of his lost children? Cassian had never been a particularly religious man, and often didn't think of it at all. To him, his life was his life, nothing more and nothing less. As one of Delilah's assassins he could take life. It didn't seem holy to him. It was just… there.

God was meant to love all his children… and if he did, how could he let these things happen? As Cassian gazed into Jezebel's eyes, not seeing, he wondered how could God let that child not cry out in agony.

Cassian was, once again, pulled from his thoughts suddenly. This time it was from Alexis's voice. Alexis held the whip still with his right hand. His cold tone seemed to draw away the warmth from Cassian's skin and he became tense. He moved closer to the two, so he was only about a meter away.

"Jezebel… how are you feeling?"

The Doctor remained silent. He bent his head low, and his hair shadowed his face. He reached out his hand, and groped for his glasses, discarded on the floor.

"I don't like it when you disobey me, Jezebel"

Alexis's lips tightened into a thin smile.

"What do you say, Jezebel?"

For the first time, Jezebel spoke. His voice was so quiet; Cassian strained his ears to hear it.

"I'm sorry… fath- Card Master…"

"Good boy"

Alexis raised the whip again. And snapped it down onto Jezebel's back, so hard, that it broke the skin and drew blood. Jezebel did not even flinch. He stayed completely still, like a rag doll. Blood now dripped down his white back, and a few drops splattered against the floor. The blood running down his back resembled soft scarlet on snow. Alexis raised the whip again, and snapped it down, hard once more. Once again, drawing even more blood. The whip struck down again, and again.

Cassian couldn't bear it anymore. The tension that had been building inside him caused his clenched fists to shake. *Surely it must be over now…*

But Alexis once again, raised the whip. Cassian had almost no time to think. The only thought that *did* echo through his mind was to do anything to stop that whip snapping down onto the Doctor's skin. Cassian jumped in a flash, and threw out his arm to stop the whip in its path. He did it so quickly, that it must have only been in half a second.

The whip cracked onto Cassian's arm, and the pain was immense. Cassian felt an erratic trembling pain snap instantly into his spine and throughout his body, and his body automatically stiffened. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out, and bit his tongue in the process so hard it drew blood. He felt the salty taste in his mouth. He did his best not to crouch from the pain of the impact of the whip, and his eyes gazed up into the cold ones of Master Alexis, standing over him. He expected to see fury in those terrifying eyes and he felt his now wounded arm tremble.

The light from the window reflected into Alexis's glasses. And instead of furious… he looked… what was it… amused? A slight smile toyed on his lips. He pulled the whip away, and let it clatter onto the floor. Cassian's eyes stayed locked on him.

Alexis backed away from the two and rolled down his sleeves. He turned to Jezebel. Jezebel's hair still veiled his face as he lay, his back horribly exposed, and still dripping with blood.

"Well, Jezebel…" His voice was very quiet. He took a pipe from his pocket and lit it before putting it in his mouth. He did all this very slowly, a rehearsed and theatrical motion. "Why don't you go out and enjoy yourself? It is Christmas…"

With that, he left, clicking the door shut softly behind him. Leaving Cassian watching him, as he pulled his stinging arm protectively to his chest and began to curse.

Outside, the carol singer's began to sing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"

***

Cassian crouched cautiously by Jezebel's side.

"Doctor…?"

Jezebel's left hand absently reached out and gently pushed Cassian away as he heaved himself up. In his right hand, he clutched his cracked glasses, and as he sat and his hair fell back from his perfect, unblemished face, he pushed his glasses onto his nose. For a moment, Cassian almost thought he saw the shining of tears in the Doctor's eyes… but then dismissed it as a whimsical fantasy.

Jezebel wrapped his bare arms around his naked chest. He turned to look at Cassian through the cracked lenses.

"Cassian" He said, his voice still very quiet. "Find me a shirt and my coat… and my shoes as well"

Cassian was about to obey, when he hesitated. "Doctor, don't you want to wipe off some of the blood…?"

"Just go!" Jezebel snapped.

Cassian quietly left the room, and returned a few minutes later, with outdoor shoes, a long winter coat, and a white shirt. Silently, he laid the shoes on the floor, and the coat beside them. Jezebel snatched the shirt, and pulling his hands through his disordered hair to tame it, he pulled the shirt on. His back was turned to Cassian, and Cassian saw how the blood and sweat came through the pure white cotton, until Jezebel's hair cascaded down, disguising it. The two shared no words, as Jezebel quietly did up the buttons. When he was done, he, avoiding Cassian's gaze, extended his hand for the outdoor coat, which Cassian gave him. Jezebel put it on and then slid his feet into his shoes. Cassian's arm stung.

"We're going out," He told Cassian, his tone vacant; as if he wasn't really aware he was saying it.

The two walked down the silent hallway, and Jezebel grabbed a tall hat from one of the hat stands and put it on. They opened the front door, leaving into the bitterly cold London snow. Cassian followed Jezebel silently, as they passed the carolers, and headed towards the local park, full of young children making snowmen and pelting each other with snowballs. To the public's eye, Cassian looked as one of those children. In fact, one of them even threw a snowball at him, and Cassian shot him a very dark look as he wiped the snow from his cheek. Cassian's arm ached. He held it against him, and tried to ignore the pain.

In the park, there was yet another group of carolers. Cassian was getting sick of hearing the same songs continuously throughout Christmas. But he sat on the frosty bench beside Jezebel, who had sat down. Cassian's behind felt numb already, it was freezing.

Suddenly, he felt long, cold fingers, clutch around his sore wrist. Jezebel had extended his hand and now pulled Cassian's arm onto his lap. He rolled up the sleeves of Cassian's shirt (This was when Cassian realized that he had left the house without a coat, no wonder he was so cold) and looked at the long red mark there, from the whip. Jezebel ran his fingers over the wound, and Cassian flinched.

"Does it hurt, Cassian?"

Cassian considered lying, but then nodded through gritted teeth. He had not been whipped in a very long time and the pain was fresh. He saw the Doctor fumble around inside his coat pocket and pull out a small bottle.

"It's ointment," he explained, quietly. He pushed his cracked glasses further up his nose with his other hand. "It may sting a bit."

He removed the lid of the bottle so that some of the ointment was on the tips of his fingers. Then, he slowly rubbed it all over the wound on Cassian's arm. Cassian felt the burning sensation on his arm, but managed not to flinch. Jezebel applied the ointment so gently; Cassian almost felt soothed, despite the irritating pain. The bitter wind blew his dark hair from his forehead.

Once Jezebel had finished, he sealed the bottle and put it in his coat pocket. They were silent for a moment, before he spoke.

"You did a very idiotic thing today, Cassian. I trust you won't do it again"

Cassian considered all the things he *wanted* to say. How could he ask him this? How could he expect him just to stand and watch? How could he see the doctor's blank eyes, as the cracking sound of the whip echoed through the room?

Instead, Cassian said:

"No, Doctor. Of course I won't"

"Good" He paused. "That whip isn't meant for you"

"No, Doctor. It's not"

They made an odd pair. A 11-year-old looking child with raven hair and wild eyes, in just a shirt, despite the snow, sitting next to a feminine looking ashen haired bespectacled man, with cracked glasses and hair that was long and beautiful, though unruly in the wind.

Jezebel inclined his head as he listened to the voices of the choir.

"Oh come… all ye faithful…"

He then turned to Cassian, who was gazing out, seemingly at nothing.

"Merry Christmas, Cassian"

- FIN -