Sorry it's been a bit. Trying to keep up. Bear with me please. :)

Chapter Eight – Break:

Run away, run away
Like a prodigal.
Don't you wait for me.
Don't you wait for me.
So ashamed, so ashamed,
But I need you so.
And you wait for me
And you wait for me.

Prodigal – OneRepublic

He was dying. Sprawled in the cold cell, his pale yellow eyes sliding once more to the sunlight that came in full force, he dragged his legs backward, feeling as if every single part of him, every limb, itched and bled. He breathed heavily, gasping, his fingers clawing and digging into solid stone floor underneath his weakened frame. The cell was large enough to house him but also large enough to allow enough sunlight through the barred window, the midday rays feeling as if they meant to sear his flesh from his bones. His lips parted and then came fully open, a wrathful hiss issuing forth. He wouldn't last much longer in this prison.

And they knew it. They knew all there was of vampires and they were going to kill him here. After having been thrown in the cell he had been questioned, over and over, by vampires. Each one more menacing than the last.

But he wasn't afraid of vampires. If there was anyone to fear it was the vampire with the amber eyes. But he had not seen him in the bit of time he had been incarcerated here.

He had asked for Beth. Had demanded Beth. Had begged for information about Beth, to know that she was alive. They wouldn't tell him. They had more fun torturing him. They had even threatened to kill her, which had sprung a small hope in him that she lived. But even when that had brought no information on Josef they had let that tease fall away, instead focusing on breaking him.

His gaze darted to the bars of the cell and he refused to touch them. One stupid gesture, the caress of his fingers over those bars had caused him to rear back and growl. The bars were silver and also coated in a silver dust. He had felt pure fury course through him when his fingers had come in contact with the bars, had felt such anger that he had wanted to tear flesh from bone, skin from muscle. Pure visions of unadulterated madness had swept through him and he had, at that moment that the silver had overpowered him, barely managed to restrain himself from tearing into the walls, into the floors like a rabid animal. They had been kind enough to remove the bullet dipped in silver from his chest. He had discovered later they had done it to torture him further. They needed him alive. Hopefully broken but alive nonetheless. They wanted Josef. He wasn't going to give them Josef.

But now he was stranded. He avoided the sunlight just barely, managing to squeeze into a corner as the sun made its way across the sky outside, as it shed its rays into the cell. He had burrowed into one corner and then another as the rays had moved and they teased him with scraps of bloody flesh, tossing it into his cell periodically.

They knew.

But not today. Today they had not given him anything and even when they did grace him it was not enough for him to regain his full strength. Only enough to survive, his form pressed to the cold shadowed floor, heaving for a single painless breath. But not today. As of yet they had not given him anything to feed on. To derive strength from. And perhaps today would be the day that he finally died.

He would welcome death. Eighty five years was such a long time.

There was movement, a shuffle of feet, a small feminine sound and his eyes came open in slits, his lips unconsciously parting, sharp canines springing forth and sharpening involuntarily in the heat of the day. He couldn't see even though he could hear something coming and his skin prickled when he heard the door to his gated cell unlock and open. Something shifted and then crashed roughly to the floor before him, uttering a muffled cry and then the cell door was slammed shut and locked, the silver once more in place. He exhaled, his vision blurred, hissing. Someone was close to him. He could sense it. And the scent of the individual was-

Sweet. And recognizable.

He grimaced, trying to place the scent. He couldn't. It seemed like a far off dream, he couldn't place that scent. Only that it reminded him of better times, of comfort. He reached a hand out senselessly, needing that comfort, needing to be elsewhere, another place and time.

Beth.

The creature close by shifted once more, dragging and he couldn't focus, couldn't see what it was.

Just do it. Just end me. Please.

And the creature, the person with him in the cell let loose a small whimper, a sob.

"Mick."

He was losing it finally. It sounded like her. Like Beth. The mere thought of her brought a vision of blond and blue, gold and Egyptian blue. Hair and eyes. A smile. An innocent look over a pale shoulder that was powerful enough in its purity to be painfully arousing. Human and untouched to his immortality, to his stain. Beth. He flinched, his shoulder hunching in against himself, body folding in.

"Mick!"

A moment later cool hands closed over his face, small fingers grasping his jaw and forcing his face up. His vision was still blurred, he couldn't see. The hands shifted, one settling over his forehead and he exhaled into the cool skin, his eyes pale through slitted eyelids, tinted yellow.

"Mick. Mick. Do you hear me? Can you understand me?" From above him came the gentle but frantic voice, another cool hand trailing his cheek, trembling.

Beth.

"Mick...please..."

His vision swam and then sharply focused, aware momentarily of the person leaning over him and it was her. With her blond curls, her eyes red with tears. He never wanted to see her cry. He made a small sound as she came closer, squeezing in beside him and then lifting his shoulders to rest across her bent legs. No. To rest against her, his jaw pressed to her breast. Her face blurred above him, her eyes sliding shut as she wept and she held him fiercely, sobbing silently.

"Please wake up..."

She wasn't real. But her scent. She felt so very real. He turned his face from her, growling like a damn wounded animal and a cool hand brought his face back to gaze upward, his shifting eyes sweeping from dark blue to pale white. He had no control, he realized dimly. He was so tired, so weak. And that scent. That scent.

Fingers curled into his jaw, into his damp hair and held there roughly, his face being forced upward. And he hissed against his will, allowed the animalistic sound to issue forth quietly.

"Mick..."

Beth.

"Please."

He shook his head inwardly. No. No no no.

"This is what they want, Mick," came her voice from above and strangely, even as she spoke he was repeating her, saying those exact words in his own head.

This is what they want...

""Mick. This is what they want," she said again and she came into focus as he managed to finally see her, as he smelled her and recognized her. Her pale skin, bruised. Her fingers dragged across his face, trailed across his lips as they parted, as he made the kind of sound only a wounded feline would make. "Please...this is what they want..."

Almost blindly he focused on her, thoughtlessly, his eyes taking in such paleness, the dark blue and purple of old blood through that light skin, close to her trembling mouth, skirting her eye. And she brought him a measure of comfort, brought him to the present with her tears. His lips closed ever so slightly, falling to close over his fangs, his eyes shifting from white to dark blue but still encased in yellow, and she smiled above, the expression strained.

"This is what they want..."

He breathed raspily, harshly, chest heaving. "Beth."

And she sent him a full smile even as tears fell down her cheeks, even as her heart seemed to break above him. "It's me."

He shook his head at her, his chest tight. "No blood...there's no blood..." And even as he said it he was abruptly aware of her, aware of her cheeks as they suddenly flushed, the pure scent of her blood mingling with her natural scent. And he felt it take over, felt as if every single part of him was suddenly electrified, tingling and alive with sensation. He stared, his eyes darting about blindly, focusing on her face and then sweeping to her neck. And the mere thought, while it sent a wave of revulsion through him, intoxicated him as well. His eyes shifted upward and as he met her eyes he was unexpectedly aware that she understood. That she had understood from the beginning, since having been tossed into his cell.

They did this. This is what they want...

She stared at him wordlessly, her dark eyes searching his face and she managed another strained smile for him. "Mick."

And upon realizing it he felt pure anger explode. "No!" And he took hold of her with clawed hands, dug them into her shoulder and tried to shove her away, tried to get away from her. From that scent of her, of her blood and her skin. She cried out, wincing as his fingers clamped down on her and she closed her eyes, suddenly struggling with him as if he was a rabid animal.

"Mick!"

"Get away from me!" he shouted at her and she had no choice but to release him as he swiped at her, a hand catching her across the face without meaning to, the other hand shoving her backward against the cold wall. A grimace spread across her face as she fell against the wall and the force rendered her limp for a small moment, her vision white.

Then, adamant and regaining her senses, she rose from the wall and lunged at him as he pulled himself onto his side, attempting to pull away from her. Her hands closed around his shoulders, arms enveloping him and he was assaulted by her scent, his mouth mindlessly opening, fangs springing forth almost angrily.

"No!"

Her weight brought him easily chest first to the floor, pinning him and he hissed at her, a growl reverberating underneath his dragging hiss.

"Don't do this..." he whispered against the cold floor, one of his shoulders in the relentless heat of the sun's rays. "Don't. Don't-"

Squeezing her eyes shut against his back, Beth bit back a sob, grasping his weary yet stiff frame to her, her weight settled firmly on top of him. "I want it," she cried to him frantically. "I want it. I want it-"

Mick shook his head against the floor, his shoulders trembling wordlessly.

"I do," she said against his heaving back, pressing her cheek to his shoulders. "I do. I want it. I want it for you. I want..."

His eyes came open in slits, the blue of his irises fading away into pure white once more as she spoke against him, his jaw clenching, his teeth closing together as he growled faintly, a long drawn out rumble.

"I want you," Beth whispered against him, her breath a gentle breeze across his back.

And without a word, with silence following his movements, he whirled on her, his back brushing across the cold floor, his hands taking hold of her shoulders in a painful grip. She stared at him as he faced her, her blue eyes wide for a moment and held by his pale gaze fearfully. And then her eyes slid shut and he had her, his mouth opening, his fangs sinking into her neck, one hand sliding up her shoulder to take hold of her hair and yanking. She made a small sound, halfway between terror and longing and fell limply into his embrace, her chest lifting against his, her head falling back as he pulled, dragged her head back further. He needed complete access, needed to dig deep into her with nothing in the way.

And she tasted like heaven.