Part 2

AN: First of all: Wow, I'm stunned by the positive reaction! Thank you for reviews, faves and followings! Second, writing part 2 was a bit put on hold, till I could decide for myself, if I'll include the season 4 finale or not. Both would have worked with the beginning of the story. It was a rather difficult decision for me and well, it took me more that a week. I decided, I will include everything but Massimo's end.
AN2: I need music to write, beside the written word; music is my life, I can't live without it. So my playlist for this part: Blue Gillespie – Synesthesia, My Chemical Romance – The Black Parade, HIM – Screamworks Love in Theory and Practice, The Rasmus – Dead letters, Jingaku Radio – Bandgirl, Lost Area – From the Ashes

Disclaimer: All rights to Showcase, except the idea of the story.

Comments are LOVE!

Blood Oath Part II

"What would you do to survive?
What are you willing to give up?
Would you betray? Would you lie?
Would you hurt others?
Would you give yourself up?
Would you, would you, would you?"

He was standing on the top of the cliff, watching the Pistyll Rhaeadr, watching the water rushing down the crag. Jumping, licking stones, crushing, pure power trapped in water. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the ancient song. The melody had changed over the centuries, but he could still make out the tune, the whispers of a lullaby like no other.

Maybe nowhere else he felt connected to his past like here. The past, when he was innocent, a past long gone. Today he was a different man, altered since the last time he was here, a different man than just a few months ago. Loosing his powers he had visited all the places he could think of. Travelling the world, making bargains, threatening people, searching for answers.

In the end, he had come back to Wales, Cymru, land of his ancestors. Centuries had passed, since he last touched the ground. But the air was still the same, the number of humans might have grown, there were changes, like everywhere, but the country was still the same. The humans visiting this sacred place always talked about the peace they felt here, the calmness settling over them.

Of course he knew the true reason, the people claiming it was an enchanted place, protected by Faeries, were not wrong. Not totally off at least. A special breed of Fae lived here, feeding on stress, leaving their "victims" calm like after a good round of yoga and he had to admit, he knew from his experiences in India, even when no could imagine him sitting still, meditating, concentrating on finding balance and his inner peace. Those Faeries, they would be a hit in the big cities; all those New Age Junkies would throw their money at them. But no, they were bound to the ground, staying with the soil of their ancestors.

He remembered well, the last time, he had been standing here, the exact same spot, doubting his existence. A tourist had been disturbing his thoughts, coming too close to his site. He had just wanted him gone, spreading his fingers without thinking, wishing him to leave and the man had stopped, turned trotting away. His powers, back after all the time feeling like a cripple. His first feed, ambrosia! Whole again, himself again or so he believed.

Now he was back, trying to find the peace he so desperately needed, but knew wouldn't come to him until he fulfilled his self-imposed mission. All powerful again, he had ate his fill, every cell was bursting. Just his mind was screaming, screaming for the missing piece.

He knew when she had left this world, when the spell casted on her died. The last chips of ice were rushing down the waterfall, leaving him bleeding, lost.

When he tried to regain his powers again, he had contacted so many people. The Norn, well she never liked his guts, his humour as well, they were too much alike and clashing bloody badly. There was nothing he could have offered her that was worth something, at least for her. The tiny, delicate plant; it was not strong enough to be a payment yet. Nothing like the wolf's back than. What would she say today? He was not sure, but he knew, his request today would be denied for completely different reasons. The one with no respect? The one that broke the laws and went against The Norn? Bloody unlikely!

There were others, just who would grant him his wish? Feared, yes, admired, sure; he heard, there was even a fan club to his name. As long as he was useful people did as he requested, well mostly. The time, he was powerless, had been a wakeup call in more than one way. Would anyone do something for him? Selfless, without his services as payment?

Even with all his power, he was actually powerless when it came to the important things and he knew it. He knew it so bloody well. So he had started to dig deeper. Went into the darkest catacombs, ancient texts from the lost library of Alexandria, breaking into to secret vaults of more than one Fae Nation. Ancient Greek myths came close, but the Styx was not his river.

Everything was leading him back to the place soaked with his ancestor's blood. A druid, of course, who else, was the first to give him hope. He had always been a protector of the druids; hence he had trained his ward to become one; a bitter taste on his tongue.

The druid told him about an ancient ritual. Never written down, only an oral tradition. Something nearly forgotten, something not done anymore, something he was mad enough to try. Last of his kind, there was a loophole. If it was true, he had his answer, why the Elders kept him around the way they did.

Last of their kind: willing to bond, willing to share, willing to give, willing to end.

If the other half was estimated worthy, both would live, sharing what they offered, no matter if one was alive or deceased, no matter if human or Fae. One chance, with only two outcomes, not grey area: both would live or both would die.

A deal, that sounded better to him, than The Norn's, only here he was playing with his life. He was a coward; he knew that to be true. Whenever there was a possibility to run, he ran! Not the hero type, his survival was his number one priority. And why not? If he didn't take care of himself, no one else would, would they? Too long that had been true.

Ice blue eyes, in them he had seen something; last received when he was a child.

Honest affection.

They had glimpsed what he kept bottled up removing shell upon shell. Save for the last time, the time he had to avert his gaze to escape the pain in those tear moistened orbs. Feeling his own pain betraying the one he swore to himself to protect.

If had known, that it would be the last time seeing her, would he have acted differently? Be for once the hero? Bollocks, he knew himself too well. She was the true hero, a heroine. Surviving in their world, more or less thrown to the wolves, even though wolves never had been her problem, taming even the wildest beasts. Himself being count in. She touched everyone coming in contact with her changing life itself. At least for him. Not a coward anymore, today he would hold his fort, being brave, being like Kenzi.

Her Katana was heavy in his hand, his palms slightly sweaty. After today Doctor Lewis would have a field day, if, if he could do it. But what was really stopping him? If he died, yes, his line would die out. There would be no Mesmers any more. The world would keep turning, it wasn't revolving around him.

But what would they gain, if he succeeded? Bloody hell, those stuck up bitches wouldn't know what hit them! Alone to see their faces, it would be worth it. That and so much more. Nothing too loose but himself. Not the worst deal.

Gripping the Katana tighter his lips whispered the ancient phrases themselves. Slowly he moved the blade without risking a glance, summoning the old gods, the powers to be, asking his ancestors for the true gift. The first drops of crimson mixed with the rushing waters, when he asked for his mate. His blood flowing freely, a runlet among the river glowing bright red. His true Blood Oath, his true vow.

Slowly drifting, nevertheless his senses sharper than ever, he could hear the song of the waterfall changing. The mumbling becoming clearer, mere whispers turning into voices, laugher ringing in his ears.

He was Vex, last of the Mesmer and today he was offering himself.

The colours hollow, the world fading, he could spot something in the spray. No someone was standing there and while he fell down the cliff, there was only one thought on his lips:

"Luv'."

Kenzi.

AN3: The Pistyll Rhaeadr waterfall is really beautiful. On youtube you can find lovely videos