Musical Vampire Mysteries of Rory Flanagan

by jlbassmaster

Rory Flanagan is a teen with the ability to read people's memories, and Sam Evans is a vampire that takes a special interest in him. Join them and their friends as they face romance, violence, death, magic, and lots of blood! Heavily inspired by the mythos of True Blood. Rated M for violence and sexuality.

10. S1, E10: Yours, Mine, and Ours

THE MUSICAL VAMPIRE MYSTERIES OF RORY FLANAGAN

Author's Notes: Wow, three chapters left including this one and our adventure will be over for this season! I already have a ton of ideas filling my head for season 2, and I am already excited about that! On another note, as I write this (April 22nd if you care to know) I am also working on the final few episodes of Trouty Mouth and the Leprechaun, contemplating a 3rd season or not. I will give a trigger warning for the latter portion of this chapter as it has some potentially disturbing content. Anyway, onward!

Beta Credit: TVTime

Season 1, Episode 10: Yours, Mine, and Ours

Rory's eyes shot open abruptly, but there was nothing for him to see. He was in darkness. Not a bit of light anywhere. His entire body ached from his skin right down to the core of his bones. Gingerly, he sat up, feeling a dampness in his clothes. Wait, his clothes? He didn't have any clothes. Not normal clothes anyway. Everything had been stripped from him except one item: a pair of unfamiliar briefs. They itched slightly, the waistband a little more snug than he cared for. When he realized his briefs were wet because he was sitting in a small puddle, he couldn't help but take in a deep breath, expecting to smell urine. Instead he smelled only mustiness, an odor that reminded him of mothballs and mildew. No, he wasn't sitting in piss; he was sitting in moldy water.

He blinked his eyes several times, forcing his vision to adjust to the darkness. Slowly but surely things came into focus. The walls looked like stone. They were; he felt them to make sure. On the far wall was something dark and striped. He reached out to touch it and it was cold metal. Bars. A jail. He was in a jail or cage of some sort.

His first inclination was to panic. He was in an unknown prison that smelled like mold and had no light anywhere. He had been robbed of his clothing and given a pair of too-small briefs, and worse yet, the air made him cough. It was stale, no surprises there, and it felt thicker than normal. It took more energy to breathe, but it could have been a trick of the mind, his panic setting in.

"Hello?!" he finally called out. It seemed hokey to just shout out like that, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. As soon as the words left his lips he wondered what kind of thing would come out of the darkness to greet him. Perhaps he should have been silent instead, but the damage was done. He had called out and possibly alerted whatever was keeping him hostage that he was indeed awake.

The last thing he remembered was being grabbed by the banshee and forced into unconsciousness. He hadn't sensed movement upon arriving at their destination, nor had he felt the rough hands on his body as his clothes had been removed. He decided it was probably best that he didn't remember it—his captors may have physically violated him and the very thought of that made him ill. As far as Rory was concerned, his body belonged to only one person, and that was Sam.

"Where am I!?" he called out again. His voice lightly echoed down what he assumed was a long hallway. "Let me out o' here! Now!"

"I'm coming, shit! Quit making all that noise. It's giving me a headache!" came a masculine voice he didn't recognize. There was a slight squeaking noise, but no sound of footsteps. At last he saw a beacon of light coming down the hall. It was moving too smoothly to be carried by someone. It almost appeared to be mounted on a cart or something. No, not a cart, a wheelchair.

"I'm Artie, the jailor, among many other things," the man said, wheeling himself into view on the other side of the bars. He sounded annoyed. The light shined enough to illuminate his face and the area directly in front of him, but little else. Rory could see that the man wore thick, nerdy glasses and a rather vintage-looking vest over his button up shirt. He didn't look like any jailor or guard the captive had ever seen before, but rather a typical high school teenager.

"Where am I?" Rory asked. He attempted to sound confident, but his voice cracked slightly.

"Doesn't matter," Artie replied with a cocky grin. "I've been sent to fetch you, but you look nowhere near ready to address the lady of the house." His eyes roved up and down the teenager, a look of disgust on his face. "You're coming with me to clean up and change, then you'll see her."

"Her who?" the teen wondered aloud. He didn't receive an answer, but instead was met with a smirk. Rory looked into the man's tired eyes, but what he saw there scared him. It was an abyss of pure pain. He didn't need to see into the jailor's head to pick up on the immense torment locked inside.

"Give me your hands," the wheelchair-bound man ordered calmly. Rory made no inclination to move. "I said give me your hands," he demanded sternly. This time, Rory stuck his hands vertically between two of the bars. Artie slapped on a pair of handcuffs—the old kind used before zip ties. When they were secured around the teenager's wrists, Rory pulled them back through, resting his tired arms in front of his stomach. Artie unlatched the door to the cell with a key that looked like it came right out of an old movie. When the door was open, he slapped a chain around the middle of the cuffs, effectively leashing the boy to his chair.

"Hey, what gives?" Rory demanded. "I'm not a dog!"

Another smirk from Artie was his answer. "Follow me. Keep up, I don't need you falling face first into my wheels." In any other situation, the remark would have been funny, but at the moment Rory felt anything but humor.

Artie began to wheel himself down the corridor. Rory followed quickly behind him, being careful not to trip or allow the chain to pull taut.

"Where are we going?" Rory demanded, irritated that the man was ignoring his questions. Silence. "I at least 'ave the right to know where we're going."

More silence.

Sighing loudly, Rory decided to give up on interrogating the jailor. He obviously wasn't going to give an answer.

They reached the end of the passage and turned left down another long hall that had several doors on either side. They stopped in front of a door with an etching on the front of it in a language the teenager didn't recognize. The jailor reached forward and unlocked it with his key and then pushed the door open.

Artie wheeled inside, nodding toward another man standing inside the room. It was otherwise empty, except for what looked like a hose of some sort connected to the wall, and a drain on the floor.

"This is Ryder. He's going to assist you in getting ready. I suggest you don't give him any trouble. He has the strength and skill of Kitty—an incubus in his own right. You don't want to test that out, I assure you," Artie said sternly. He reached forward and unclasped first the chain, and then the handcuffs. Rory rubbed his wrists, the tight metal having dug into his skin.

"Ryder, bring him along when he's ready. I have things to do," the jailor ordered. "If he gets unruly, subdue him, but don't kill him. She wants him alive."

Ryder nodded and smiled. There was more light in this room, coming from numerous candles in sconces on the walls. Rory was able to easily make out the man's features. He was about the same height as Rory, but with broader shoulders and chest. He wore no clothing, not even a pair of underwear. His hair was neat and soft, his eyes alluring and glowing a pale teal. Rory couldn't help but feel a slight tingling in his underwear, but he mentally forced the thoughts away. It was the influence of the incubus and nothing more.

The incubus approached him with a friendly demeanor, unlike Artie who had been rather abrupt and rude. "Hello Rory," he said. "As he said, I'm Ryder. Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand to shake as if they were meeting at a social engagement.

Figuring it best not to anger a being as powerful as the woman who had bested his boyfriend, he shook the man's hand, feeling the heat emanating from it.

"Yeah, nice to meet ye'," Rory replied. "So what's going on here? Why am I here? Who is she? What—"

Ryder held up his hand to silence him. "I can't answer most of those questions. I'm not allowed to. I'm just supposed to get you ready to meet her, and that's it. I'm not supposed to tell you anything else."

The teen couldn't help but look the man up and down, noting his tightly corded muscles and chiseled abs. The man was also well endowed, rivaling Sam's own gifts below.

"I can tell you this. I am an incubus, and I was given this particular assignment because you'll be more docile with me. Don't get me wrong, I can be terse if I have to, but at the base of it, I'm a nice guy mixed up in something bigger I can't begin to explain. I just follow my orders and my nature."

"What is an incubus exactly?" Rory asked, only familiar with the rock band, Incubus, which he was pretty sure had nothing to do with Ryder.

Ryder smiled softly. "An incubus is the male version of a succubus, putting it simply. I wait for men or women to fall asleep and then I enter their minds, seeking out their pleasure spools and inviting them to let me spread my seed. The men are purely for pleasure, but the females…the females are for my species to procreate since it is incredibly rare to breed a full-blooded demon like ourselves."

"Wait, wait, wait. Ye' mean ye' rape people in their sleep?"

"If that's what you want to call it I suppose. I do make it so they desire me. They give me permission, its just… permission granted through persuasion so to speak," the incubus explained.

"I thought ye' said ye' were a nice guy. Nice guys don't rape people or take advantage of them that way," Rory pointed out indignantly.

Ryder's shoulders slumped. "I still have my nature. I can't forgo that. But I don't rape in the sense of the word. Many incubi outright force themselves on their quarry, not bothering to persuade them the way I do. Instead they force their victim down and savagely penetrate them until they are satisfied and then they leave, the victim in a state of despair. I don't like to do that."

Rory rolled his eyes. "So ye'r a nice guy because ye' don't rape people, ye' just make them want ye'? Sounds like bollocks to me."

Ryder frowned. "Don't judge, okay? I don't judge you. I just have a job to do, and a nature to follow. I didn't choose this life, but it's what I was dealt and it's what I have to do. Now, if you don't mind, remove your underwear."

"No!" Rory declared, suddenly agitated, backing away from Ryder. "I'm not getting naked and ye'r not going to rape me! Don't e'en try it! I 'ave abilities ye' know!" He held up his hands in a defensive stance, but his palms weren't warming up very much at all.

"You can't use your power right now. You're too weak. Artie injected you with some sort of, oh what did he call it? Dampener? Anyhow please, Rory, remove your underwear. I don't want to take it from you," Ryder stated. Rory refused again. Ryder reached before him, putting his fingertips on the waistband and in one smooth motion, pulled the briefs off of the boy, the fabric tearing effortlessly. He tossed the rag aside and took in the sight before him.

"Don't be shy," Ryder said as Rory covered himself with his hands. "You're a handsome young man. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, we're about to get a lot more intimate than just looking."

"What!? I can't use me power but I can still fight! Don't make me!"

"Calm down. It's not what you think, Rory. I'm not going to sexually accost you. I am going to bathe you, however, and see to your clothing, so I will be seeing your nudity quite a bit. Now, let your hands at your sides and relax. I mean you no harm at all, I promise."

Rory looked at the man skeptically, his hands dropping down unconsciously. Ryder was a handsome man indeed, and he genuinely seemed like a nice person, even if he was working for 'her.' The man's eyes drew the boy in, a calming effect falling over him. He also began to smell the faint scent of coconut.

Ryder pushed in one of the bricks on the wall, and from the stone slid out another brick structure. It was about waist high and hollow inside, like a basin.

"In you go my friend," Ryder said, nodding toward the tub. "Go on, get in. It's safe, I assure you," he added. "It's only water." He held out his hand, allowing Rory to use him for balance. The reluctant teenager cautiously climbed into the empty tub, not noticing as Ryder took the hose and placed the end of it on the edge of the stone. "I'm afraid the water might not be as warm as you're used to."

The liquid began to flow, quickly filling the tub as it gushed through the hose. It wasn't freezing, but it wasn't exactly warm either. It was more of a room temperature. Rory shivered as the liquid rose around his shins and then up to his knees. It was rising incredibly fast, but then again the basin wasn't particularly huge either.

"Just sit down real fast. Get it over with. It won't take long," the incubus encouraged. Rory took a deep breath before taking Ryder's advice and plunging his lithe frame into the cool water. He let out a quiet cry of distaste, swearing in Gaelic. He was too bothered by the cold to worry about the fact that Ryder had reached in with a cloth and bar of soap and began to rub at his skin. His touch was tender, not at all like a monster's hands should be.

Rory tolerated the bath, insisting that he be allowed to clean his own groin and hindquarters. The incubus politely agreed, and waited as the boy finished the task. Ryder then soaped and rinsed the teen's hair and announced that they were finished.

"I have a towel for you," Ryder said, turning to a short table that Rory hadn't noticed before. It may not have been there earlier, considering that some of these bricks were pushable. Ryder could easily have pressed one and made a table slide out from the wall. Ryder held the towel open and smiled. "Come on, out you come. Wrap up and warm up."

The teen quickly climbed out of the tub, throwing himself into the warmth of the towel—the fabric a soft terry cloth. He took a moment to enjoy the feeling before drying himself off.

"I have clothes for you," Ryder announced, turning back to the table. A pair of dark blue jeans, a white tee shirt, and a green plaid sweater vest awaited him, a pair of socks and black and white shoes sitting next to the items.

"These are pretty comfy. I thought I was supposed to look all…regal or something. If she's so great, why not a suit and tie?" the teen inquired.

Ryder smiled again. "I find it best not to ask questions. Be thankful, I'd rather wear that then some stuffy suit. Now go on, get dressed and then I'll fix your hair."

Rory couldn't help but chuckle. It all seemed so stupid to go through these lengths of presentation just to put him in casual clothing. It was overtly theatrical and he wondered for a moment if the banshee had a 'thing' for old style ceremony and custom. Shrugging it away, he decided to comply and put on the outfit provided for him, eager to be dressed again.

"You look very handsome," Ryder complimented. "Now sit on the table—don't get your jeans dirty—and let me style your hair." Where the incubus acquired hair gel, Rory didn't know, but he let the man work his dark hair without question. "Ah, now you look perfect! I wish I had a mirror for you!" The man stood back a moment and admired his charge. Ryder actually had an affectionate look in his eyes, a look that belied his incubi nature. There was something more there than just lust, rather some kind of respect.

"Thank ye'," Rory replied. It was the first time he smiled since he had woken up. It felt good to get a compliment from someone so handsome who didn't happen to be his own boyfriend. He just had to ask the burning question, however. "Ye' do seem far too nice to be in line with this banshee creature. Why are ye' here?"

Ryder's smile began to fade, a faraway look filling his eyes. It was obvious he was struggling with something internally as he contemplated his answer. After a minute of pure silence and reflection, he finally replied. "I'm not here because I want to be. I am in debt to her. That's all I can say."

Rory looked into the man's eyes, sensing the pain there. It was a different kind of pain than what was in Artie's eyes. Ryder obviously wasn't going to share his past history about what his debt was, but whatever it was, it was sorrowful for the incubus.

"Ye' know something, Ryder?" Rory began. "I 'ave friends coming for me. I know they are. When they get here, and we get this all taken care of, I'll make sure ye' get out o' here. Ye'll be a free man. The only thing is…ye' 'ave to promise me to change ye'r ways. I know it's ye'r nature to seduce the men and women, but why not try and actually get them to like ye' for ye'? Maybe even find a boyfriend or girlfriend. Then ye' could get all ye'r needs from the same person, and maybe be happy."

Ryder scratched his head, confused. "Why would you do that? I'm an incubus. A dangerous creature with a hungry nature. You have no way to force me to do what you want. I could be lying to you if I said I would do it. Besides, your friends may come, but they may not be able to help you."

Rory gave the man a soft smile, refusing to entertain the idea that Sam might not be able to rescue him afterall. "Ye' 'ave more self control than ye' think. After all, ye' managed not to take me, and here we were, naked and alone. Ye' could 'ave done anything ye' wanted at any time, but ye' didn't."

The incubus looked thoughtful. The boy was right—he had resisted, but that was because Rachel had ordered it. Or was it?

"I think if I helped ye' escape from here, from her debt, I think ye' would make the effort," Rory stated confidently.

"You have no reason to trust me, young man."

"Maybe not. But I don't 'ave a reason not to trust ye' either. I think even if ye'r an incubus, ye' still 'ave ye'r pride as a person. Ye'r honor. I think if ye' give me ye'r word, you'd stick to it. I wouldn't know if ye' didn't, but I think ye' 'ave a stronger heart than that."

Ryder stared at him, his head running at max speed, still failing to understand why this human was willing and eager and capable of assisting him. It made no sense at all.

"Just give me ye'r word, and I'll help ye'. After that, it's up to ye' to make good on it or not. I can't force ye' either way, but just ye'r word is enough for me," Rory said.

Before their conversation could continue, Artie rolled in, a sneer on his face. "About time. Come on, the cuffs gotta go back on, I'm not having you run off." He slapped the cuffs back on the teen, and then tethered him to the chair.

"Think about it, Ryder. Ye' showed me kindness, even if ye'r supposed to be a monster," the teen reminded him.

Ryder watched as Rory followed Artie out of the room, but just before the door closed, he called out to the boy. "Rory! You have my word!" he declared. Rory simply smiled, pleased with himself. The man had been genuinely kind to him, and he hated to see anyone in slavery, especially if it was undeserved. He didn't know the terms of his debt, but someone with such a kind demeanor deserved another chance. He had no way to know if Ryder would actually keep his word or not, but faith in the incubi's integrity was enough to satisfy him. At the very least, the entire exchange had given him a strange kind of comfort in such an uncertain situation.

"Don't bother running your mouth to him, giving him false hopes and all," Artie scolded as they made their way further down the hall. "You have no hope of getting out of here, and neither does he."

Quick on his thoughts, Rory supplied a small lie of a response. "I was simply remindin' him that just because he's an ink ye' bus, that he doesn't 'ave to feel bad about being nice to people."

Artie sneered. "I'm not stupid, boy. I know what you were talking about. As I said, you have no hope of leaving this place. You belong to the mistress now. Ryder, too, will be hers to repay his debt to her. He is no more an asset to your cause than a common housefly."

Rory rolled his eyes, saying nothing. There was no point in arguing or agitating the man. He knew in his heart that Sam was coming for him, and that's all he needed to know. He continued to follow the surly demeanor on wheels to the end of the passageway where an old-fashioned elevator stood open, waiting for them. It took them up what had to be at least five floors before stopping.

The small foyer where the elevator stopped looked much different than the one below. It was still stone, but it looked cleaner and had colorful tapestries hanging down.

"She sure likes her artwork. This stuff must be-" Rory began, admiring the tapestries and painting as they continued into a new hallway.

"Hundreds of years old," Artie finished sarcastically. "I'll be glad when I drop you off. You talk too much."

Rory sighed, annoyed, stopping in front of a large ornate door. Artie pressed in on a stone in the side, and the door opened on its own. It revealed a large room filled with mirrors and golden frames. The walls themselves were a pure, white marble with the mirrors embedded inside, keeping them flush. Elaborate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Between the framed mirrors were more tapestries and paintings. At first it was overwhelming, but overall it was rather tacky, as if purposely made to look 'over the top'.

At the very back of the room was a large throne, golden and trimmed with various colored stones. The seat was velvet and red, every bit the stereotypical king's seat.

"This is a wee bit theatrical, isn't it?" Rory commented, looking around.

"Of course it is," came the soft, feminine voice he had become accustomed to hearing sing in the night. She stepped fully into the room, having entered from an unseen door. She wore a solid black dress with gold trim, her hair loose and curled. "I enjoy theatrics. You must remember, I come from a time when things such as this were held in high regard. Even the biggest eyesores were considered regal compared to the rags of the commoner."

"I'd rather 'ave a plain rag for a curtain than these ugly things," the teen retorted smugly. The woman crossed the room instantly, slapping him across the face with a loud crack.

"You have a smart mouth. I'll fix that quick enough!" Rachel declared. "I'd cut out your tongue, but I have heard you sing. It would be an awful waste." She then turned her attention to Artie and smiled sweetly. "Unchain him and remove the cuffs. I will call on you later."

Artie nodded and quickly unclasped the chain from the handcuffs and wheeled himself out of the room, muttering unintelligibly to himself.

"He's efficient but very moody," Rachel explained. "He's also very talented in ways I am certain you will never know about." Rory shrugged, keeping his eyes on the mysterious woman, unconcerned with her peon's talents. "So I guess you're wondering what you're doing here, right?"

"Aye, the thought had crossed me mind," the teen replied. Rachel's eyes turned cold a moment before she let another smile cross her lips.

The banshee walked slow, sensual circles around her captive, letting her fingertips brush against his arms, his cheeks, his chin. "Well let me put you at ease first, my dear. I have no intention to kill you. In fact, that is the least of my desires for you." She stopped behind him and leaned in, her lips right next to his ear. "I want your blood, dear boy, but I want it for eternity."

A shiver went down the teen's spine as the words resonated in his head. "Blood? Why?" he stammered.

"It's always blood, isn't it?" she cooed, moving to face him, their noses almost touching. "Blood is the essence of life. Every living creature has blood in it. It's what keeps them going. Why do you think vampires need it so bad? It nourishes the body. It keeps them 'alive'."

"But Artie said ye'r art was hundreds of years old. If ye'r already so old, why are ye' worried about needing more life? Aren't ye' like the vampires? Ye' can't age or die?" Rory asked, confused. "And what's so special about me, that ye' 'ave to 'ave my blood?"

The banshee smiled sweetly as she backed away a foot more. She placed her fingertip in the center of Rory's chest, staring up into his eyes. "It's not the immortality I desire. No, I have that already. There's something else much more special about your blood. You're the last remaining leprechaun known to man, boy. Don't you know what a leprechaun's blood can do?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

Rachel continued to grin. "It acts as an enhancing agent. When a girl like me takes it into herself, it keeps her young and beautiful and extends her life. Of course that's not a concern of mine, but some might find it advantageous. More importantly, it enhances my natural abilities. My voice could shatter mountains, my strength would allow me to bend steel. My magic would become stronger, more powerful. You see where I'm going with this…If I imbibe your blood, I can become the closest thing to a god this world could have."

Rory shuddered. "Ye' think that by drinking me blood, ye' can be a god? Sounds like ye' might be o'erestimating me power," he said his voice cracking slightly.

"No, no, I know what I'm talking about. Furthermore, to sustain that power, I would need to drink from you day after day. Being the only living leprechaun, I need you to stay around for a long, long time. See, leprechaun, I know your secret to a long life. I know how even you can live forever."

Despite his fear, the first thing to cross his mind was that if what she said was true, he could live forever with Sam, without being turned vampire. The banshee's squeal of delight broke his thoughts as she detailed exactly what would allow him to keep going well after his years. "You're like a battery that needs charging. You can drain the life force from someone, using it to sustain your youth and life. The sad part for you, however, is that it would most likely kill anyone you took life energy from. Bam, dead, kapow." She made motions with her hands, miming shooting someone followed by an explosion. "Of course, nothing comes without sacrifice."

"If me blood makes someone so powerful, then how come Sam ne'er had any effects after drinking me? Explain that!" the teen asked eagerly.

"How do you know he didn't? When did he drink you? While you were making love, correct?" She leaned in extremely close, her mouth brushing his ear. "Or were you simply… fucking?" she asked, putting hard emphasis on the vulgar word.

Rory's face flushed a little, embarrassed at being asked such a personal question. "Y-y-yes. I mean, we weren't fucking we were making love. We mean more to each other than that. That's the only time I've let him bite me. The only time he e'er tried, and I had to beg him e'en then." He had no idea why he expounded on his answer. Perhaps he wanted to make absolutely sure the banshee knew that Sam was a much better intentioned person than she thought he was.

"If he's like any other man after sex, he wants only to sleep, or eat, or something else equally a waste of time. How would he notice any enhancement if he isn't trying to use it?" Rachel took pleasure in the teen's discomfort at discussing his sexual activities. "No need to be shy, we're all adults here. Tell me I'm wrong."

Rory's icy glare was enough of an answer for her. She smirked and turned to her throne. "See, a stupid man wasting a valuable resource. You could do better, and that 'better' is me."

"How's that? Ye' 'ave nothing I want! No way in the world ye' are any better than Sam! Ye'r nothing compared to him!"

"I will have plenty for you soon enough, and when I do, you'll have no choice in the matter. Not if you want to see the people important to you continue existing. Remember those news stories? The massacre in what just so happened to be your home? Yes, that was a fortunate coincidence. But yes, that was me. You saw the bodies. You saw the leftovers. I know you did. Do you want your friends, do you want Sam, to end up like that? Or worse?" she taunted. "If it isn't me that will shred them, it will be Kitty, and she is far less merciful than I."

Rory clenched his fists, feeling the heat rising. His jaw was clamped down so hard it hurt, his breathing deep. He slowly began to raise his hands in front of himself, the now familiar glow intensifying as the dampening agent was apparently wearing thin. Rachel smiled and then held her hand out, inspecting her nails as if nothing was going on in front of her.

The teen spread his fingers as the heat inside of him surged out toward the banshee, the crackling beams looking all the more intense by their reflections in the mirrors. Rachel sighed and opened her mouth, letting out an ear-splitting wail. The surge of energy slammed against an invisible shield in the air—her ultrasonic sound waves crashing against his barrier of light. The mirrors shook, and then shattered, shards of glass flying everywhere. Rory stopped the blast, ducking to avoid the glass. Without any further resistance to hold it back, the sound waves traveled the rest of the way through the room, crashing into the teen and shoving him up against the far wall. He fell onto all fours, his fingers and knees stinging as he landed on slivers of mirror.

"You didn't really think it'd be that easy did you?" Rachel taunted, standing up. She slowly glided on her feet toward the injured teenager and stopped just in front of him, her feet directly under his face. She crouched down and wrapped her fingers around his throat and stood, dragging him to his feet. "You're lucky that I want your blood and need you alive, otherwise I would kill you right now. Do you know how expensive those mirrors were?"

Rory clutched at the woman's hand, trying to pry her fingers away from his throat. Breathing was becoming harder as she increased the pressure. "Oh, looks like you cut yourself," Rachel commented casually. With her free hand she took one of his wrists in her fingertips and brought his palm toward her mouth. She stuck out her tongue and erotically licked the blood from the tiny wounds, moaning with approval. As the liquid life slid down her throat, a faint glow went with it, lighting up her throat and into her core. Satisfied, she dropped him back onto the floor, his hands and knees landing on the glass again.

The teen gasped for air, ignoring the pain. He reached up with one hand and tried to force another burst of energy, but all that happened was mild crackling around his fingertips.

"A little tired I see. You should have behaved yourself. I was going to let you dine with me. You're a lucky boy, Rory. You really are," Rachel went on. She snapped her fingers, the sound abnormally loud. A moment later, Artie wheeled, and Ryder marched, into the room, the latter wearing a button up shirt and slacks, all in black, except for a pair of gold suspenders and bow tie. "Take the brat to his room."

Ryder knelt down to help Rory to his feet, a genuine look of concern on his face. When they stood back up, Rachel was only a foot away from them, looking smug. "I guess this is goodnight for now. I really advise you to think about cooperating from now on."

"Ye' talk too much," Rory rasped, his throat sore from her grip. He managed to work up enough saliva however to spit at the woman, hitting her square in the face, the clear liquid dripping down her cheeks.

Rachel's eyes went bright red all of a sudden and she raised her hand, backhanding Rory across the face. The crack of cartilage snapping filled the room and blood began to gush from his nose. "Get him out of here, NOW!" the angry banshee bellowed, reaching up to her face and wiping the muck away.

Ryder gingerly pinched Rory's nose to stem the blood flow, apologizing for the additional pain. "I'll fix you up when we get to your room, I promise," he whispered, his eyes filled with sorrow, the beautiful glow from before paler still. Once they were out of the room and the door was shut, all three of them heard the high-pitched angry screech of Rachel, the final pieces of jagged glass falling from the frames onto the floor.

"That was really stupid," Artie said flatly. He didn't bother with cuffs or chains as the boy wasn't going anywhere without Ryder's help. The handsome attendant held onto the injured boy and guided him down the halls until they reached a door. "This is your room. You can't get out, so don't bother trying." He then turned his attention to Ryder. "Take care of the dumb shit. I'm putting you in charge of him for now. Keep him out of trouble."

"Yes, sir," Ryder replied earnestly. Artie unlocked the door and waited impatiently as the incubus took his charge inside. Artie slammed the door shut and locked it, rolling away muttering as always.

Ryder led the teen directly into the bathroom, sitting him down on the toilet lid. "Tilt your head back," he instructed, his fingers still clasping Rory's bloodied nose. With his free hand he took a towel from the rack and held it close to the boy's face. "I'm gonna let go now. Hold this under your nose to catch the bleeding while I figure out how to patch you up."

When Ryder removed his fingers, Rory's face felt a new surge of fire emanating from his nose. The pressure had hurt, but it had quickly turned his nose numb, however the release brought all the pain right back. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, his breaths coming out ragged. Ryder opened the medicine cabinet, which was closer to a medicine closet. Everything imaginable was stocked inside as if the banshee expected Rory to need constant medical attention.

"I'm going to lessen the pain for you," the incubus told him. "To do it, I have to kiss you. One of my talents is to alter the human nervous system. Normally I do it to super charge sexual energy, but I can also do the opposite and dull your senses. It will make you feel rather numb, but it'll help ease the pain." Ryder moistened his lips and stared down at the pained teen. "I promise not to take advantage of you, Rory."

The teen nodded slightly, his cheeks still stained with tears. Ryder took a couple of small pieces of gauze from the countertop then pulled the towel away from Rory's face. The bleeding hadn't stopped, but it had significantly slowed down. Ryder very gently packed the boy's nostrils with the gauze, sending fresh pain into his patient's head.

"I'm sorry," Ryder said. He wiped the sticky blood from Rory's upper lip and then cautiously bent downward, pressing his lips against the leprechaun's. Rory closed his eyes, reminding himself that this wasn't for pleasure. This was strictly to relieve the pain. It felt strange having someone's lips other than Sam's against his, feeling someone else's tongue entering his mouth. Ryder kissed him for what seemed like a very long period of time, a strange coolness coming from the incubus' mouth. It was a cold that spread from Rory's mouth outward, to his entire face up to his head, down his throat and into the rest of his tired body. The longer the chill remained, the less he felt his body.

Ryder finally broke the kiss, standing back up tall. "If you have a significant other and they find out, I'll take responsibility for that. I don't want them to be angry with you," he said softly. "A man as handsome as yourself must surely have a boyfriend, or girlfriend. The incubus wasn't very familiar with the emotions touching his heart and mind as he stared at the boy. He wasn't devoid of feeling for other people, but in his years of submitting to his nature he hadn't actually felt real affection for almost anyone. They were merely victims to his cause. There was something about this teenager that was different. It reminded him of someone important from his past; the only person he ever loved. It was the person that Ryder had convinced himself was responsible for his sense of humanity, despite his demonic origin. Even with the pangs of sadness the memories gave him, it put Ryder at ease.

The man wet a washcloth and washed the blood and tears from the boy's face and his neck where it had dribbled down his chin. "There, that's better," he said with a slight smile. Rory attempted to smile back, but it was difficult to do with his face feeling like he had just come from a dentist overdosing him on frosty Novocaine. Ryder then wiped clean the teen's hands and wrapped them in a thin layer of bandages. He tore off Rory's jeans and repeated the patching up process on the teen's knees.

Without another word, the 'nurse' assisted his new friend to the bedroom. "Your clothes are ruined and you'll want to be comfortable to sleep. I'll help you." Rory stood at the bedside, steadying himself on the bedpost despite the fact he could barely sense his fingers on the polished wood. He watched as Ryder walked to the wardrobe and removed a fresh pair of pajamas and from the drawer and a pair of underwear. He returned to his friend and carefully helped him out of the rest of his clothes and into his nightwear.

"Lay back in bed and I'm going to place an icepack on your face. It will keep the swelling down," Ryder informed him. Rory did as he was told and waited as the man prepared the icepack. Ryder sat on the edge of the bed and turned sideways to place the pack. "You might feel cold already, but it's not the same as icing your injury." He paused a moment before positioning the pack over the teen's already swelling face. "You know, that really was a stupid thing to do. She's very powerful. I don't want to see you hurt."

Rory finally forced a grin. "It was worth it," he croaked out. The incubus couldn't help but chuckle before leaning down and kissing him on the forehead. He then brushed his fingertips over the teen's eyelids, shutting them and using his magic to send him off to sleep.

-ooo-

"Where is he!?" Sam shouted at the top of his lungs as he stormed up the stairs from his basement coffin. He wasn't sure how he had ended up in there, but it was a good thing since as soon as Rachel left, the clouds started to dissipate and shortly after, the sun was shining through into the house.

The door slammed open so hard that it flew off the hinges, splintering against the wall. "I said where is he!?" he demanded again, his voice booming through the house.

Mercedes sat on the couch next to Kurt and Blaine, all three of them hanging their heads, afraid to look up at Sam.

"God damn it! Where the fuck is Rory?!" the vampire shouted angrily, facing all three of the humans. Mercedes winced at the sound while Kurt and Blaine held hands, squeezing tightly. The last thing any of them wanted was an angry vampire, and aside from Blaine, none of them were equipped to defend themselves against him if he went off the deep end.

"She took him," Mercedes finally whispered. Sam rushed up to her and shook her, forcing her to look up at him. "Watch it! That hurts!" she yelled, her fear temporarily ignored out of rage. "Get your hands off of me, I didn't hand him over to her!"

Sam let go of her and stood upright, sighing. "I'm sorry," he muttered and turned to walk away. Mercedes reached out and grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm afraid and angry and I don't deal well with that."

"We want to rescue him as much as you do, but without knowing where she took him, there isn't much we can do," the girl said softly, her voice quivering nontheless. "Being crazy isn't going to help."

Sam grit his teeth and yanked his hand away, stomping off to his office. He needed to get away from the humans for a moment. They don't get it! She's going to drain every bit of him dry, and they are clueless!

The vampire threw the office doors open so hard they, too, flew off the hinges and hit the walls with a loud crack. He then picked up the large chair that sat before the desk and launched it toward the glass display cases, shattering them. The desk itself was next, hefted over his head and catapulted into the wall of bookcases. He could barely see through the red haze of blood filling his eyes and sliding down his cheeks.

With everything in the study having been tossed and broken, he came back to the living room. The three teenagers were still sitting on the couch, clutching onto each other in fear.

"Sam, calm down!" Blaine shouted as a recliner whizzed past his head and out of the window. "Sam! Stop!" he yelled, getting up. "This is insane! It's not helping!"

Blaine's words were in vain, however, as Sam continued to let out his anger on the coffee table, punching it and splitting it four ways, his fist hitting the floor and leaving a small hole. Still on overdrive, the vampire rushed forward toward the stone reinforced wall and began punching it mercilessly, chunks of cement sailing past his head and toward the frightened teenagers, who had moved behind the couch to avoid the debris.

Sam slowed down his barrage of punches as he tired himself out, slumping to his knees and weakly throwing his fists at the unfortunate brick. Even with his enhanced strength, the constant assault on his flesh was tearing it, blood streaking over his hands.

The brave one, Blaine cautiously approached him, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Got it all out of your system now?" he asked sternly. The vampire turned his head and glared up at the warlock, his cheeks stained with bloody tears, his eyes just as red. Despite not needing to breathe, he was panting.

Blaine knelt down next to him, keeping his hand on the man's arm. "Calm down. Right now," he ordered before draping his arms across Sam's shoulders, hugging him tightly from behind. "Rory needs you now, and not like this."

"She's going to kill him," Sam stammered. "She may already have done it."

Before Blaine could respond, the vampire felt the comforting man being pulled away and his body being shoved around and backward. There was a loud crack and his face lit on fire as a dark hand slapped him, smearing the bloodstains.

"Rory isn't dead you dumb shit!" Mercedes hollered. "He isn't dead," she repeated hoarsely, tears of her own flowing down her dark cheeks. "Don't say that. He isn't dead." She stared him right in the eyes, no longer concerned that he would cast his mind control spell on her. He wouldn't dare try it, not on her, not right now. "Now get up, wash your face, and let's get to work figuring out what to do about this."

"Sam… is it true, about the bond between a vampire and a human once they've shared blood?" Blaine asked. The vampire nodded hesitantly. "Shouldn't you be able to sense him, or something? Can't you feel if he's hurt or…or worse?"

Sam sighed as he brought himself to his feet. "You're a genius, Blaine. I can't believe I was so stupid not to think of that!" He immediately quieted down and shut his eyes, trying to concentrate. He made several funny faces as he did so. "I can't sense him, not like I normally can. I think that's it, I've gotten so used to being able to feel him, I forgot about it. He isn't dead, though. I can tell that much. I can't explain the feeling, it's…"

"Faith," Mercedes said quietly. "It's faith. You know in your heart the truth." She smiled warmly at the man for the first time. "Now get moving before I have to slap you again," she added with a wink. "And you know I will if I have to. We all have to be strong for Rory right now."

"Thanks. I think I needed that," he said, nodding toward her. She chuckled as he walked past her, sidestepping the ruined table. "You can come out now," he added, addressing Kurt who was still hiding behind the couch. "I'm done throwing a temper tantrum."

Kurt peered over the edge of the couch and slowly stood up, glancing first at his friends and then at the vampire as he disappeared into the bathroom. "That was scary," the teen said, rushing over to Blaine and hugging him. "Leave it to Mercedes to put a man in his place," he added.

"Somebody had to, what with all that 'he's dead' talk. I don't do negativity in a crisis," she announced with pride. "Sadly, I don't know what to do next. I mean, how do we find where the crazy bitch took him?"

"I have an idea. I'm going to Scandals to see Sebastian. He's got sources. I want you three to get Mike and Tina. I'll need their help," Sam stated, returning to the room upon hearing their conversation. "Then Kurt, Mercedes, I want you two to go home. Mike, Tina, and Blaine can use their abilities but you two are human. I don't want you getting hurt."

Mercedes was about to open her mouth but Kurt beat her to it, his voice filled with an unusual tone of determination and bravery. "Rory's our friend too, you know. Mercedes and I are coming with you. No arguments."

"But-" Sam started, but Kurt interrupted him.

"But nothing. Arm us to the teeth. I know you have resources. Guns, knives, whatever can cause some damage," the teen said. "If Blaine is being forced into this, I'm doing what I can to at least try and protect him."

"Uhm bulletproof vests would be nice too. I wear a size eighteen," Mercedes interjected. "And don't forget I got a lot of boobage going on here, so make sure it isn't too tight. Maybe some pads of some sort too, something to cushion the blows."

"You're really serious, aren't you?" Sam asked, looking the pair over.

"Damn right we are. Now go do what you need to. Stop at whatever armory you have going on, and let's do this before we waste anymore time," Kurt declared.

Sam smiled slyly. "Yes, sir," he said. In a blur he was outside and getting into his vehicle. Normally he would run, but he was tired from his rampage and didn't want to use any more energy than necessary. The drive would give him a chance to recharge before confronting Sebastian for information.

"Since when did you become a warlord?" Blaine asked his boyfriend. Kurt shrugged.

"No idea. Now let's go," Kurt answered. He led the other two outside to their own car so that they could get on with their assignment, unsure of just how long it would take Sam to make his errand. They wanted to be ready for whatever they had just gotten themselves into.

-ooo-

Sam parked his car and turned off the engine. He got out, noticing that Scandals' parking lot was rather empty. He wasn't even sure exactly which day it was, so it may not have been unusual for there to be a slack crowd if it was the middle of the week.

"He isn't dead," came a familiar, almost airy feminine voice. Sam stopped in his tracks, trying to deduce where it was coming from. "He isn't dead," the voice repeated.

"I know that," the vampire stated, annoyed. As soon as he spoke, his eyes went hazy for a moment. When his vision cleared, he saw standing in front of him, Marley Rose. "Marley?"

"Hello, Sam. It's me, but it's not really me," the beautiful woman said. There was something off about her. She was far too pale, even for a vampire, and she seemed almost translucent with an ethereal glow around her.

"How are you here? I saw you die decades ago. You're gone," the blonde questioned, suddenly wondering about his sanity. Was Rory's abduction causing him to go insane?

Marley smiled softly, her eyes still holding the comforting gaze he had become so accustomed to so long before. "I'm still in your blood, Sam. In your heart. You don't really see me. I'm not really here."

"Then what-?"

"I can't explain it, but I'm the same as a… a ghost I suppose you can say. Non-corporeal, of course. But even then, no, that's not entirely accurate. I'm more like a vision from your own psyche. How I am here is not what matters, though. I can't stay but a moment, but your friends are right. Rory is not dead. He's very much still alive. I promise you that. Have faith, know he is safe for now, but he needs you, Sam. She won't kill him. She needs him. But Sam, that doesn't mean she won't do unspeakable things… You have to hurry and save him," Marley's ghost went on to explain.

Sam felt his eyes tear up again. He had thought more about his past lately than he had in a long time, and if there was one thing he missed as much as his family, it was Marley. Here she was, in front of him, speaking to him. Reassuring him. It didn't seem right. They had been in love, and she was actually encouraging him now to be happy with someone else.

"I see what you're thinking, Sam. I'm gone now. I will always love you, and you me, but Rory is your love now. He is your mate, your partner. I want you to be happy, Sam, and your happiness lies with Rory, with the living. Not with the true dead," the woman said in a mournful tone. Her words were valid, but it didn't mean that even in true death she didn't miss him immensely. "I have to go now, but take solace in knowing that your journey will not be in vain. Rory is alive, and he needs you."

Marley's ghost approached him, their bodies so close they could touch if she were solid. He felt the increased chill in the air as the figure kissed him lightly on the lips. "I love you, Sam. You can do this. I promise you can." She smiled one last time. "Good bye, Sam, my love."

With that, the dead woman began to fade into mist. Luckily for Sam, her body had never been 'in focus' enough for him to see—she had ethereal tears sliding down her cheeks the entire time she spoke, even when she smiled.

"Good bye, Marley. I love you, too. Thank you," the vampire whispered as the mist dissipated. He really did not know if what just happened was real, or if it was some sort of hallucination, but it didn't matter. His vision of his past beloved was more than enough to keep him going. And now, he was going right through the front door and into Scandals to drag Sebastian into this whether he wanted to be part of it or not.

-ooo-

Rory slowly opened his eyes, the dull ache of his broken nose still pulsing, but nowhere near as bad as it had been. The lights were dimmed but not off, and it was quiet except for the light sound of a piano being played in another room. He sat up, a dried washcloth and warm pack of water flopping into his lap. After a moment he recalled Ryder placing something on his face to ease the swelling, hence the cloth and melted icepack.

"Ryder?" he croaked out. His throat was painfully dry, and he was famished. He slid out of the covers and padded to the bathroom. He vaguely remembered that he had been in the bathroom, bleeding like a stuck pig, but now there was no sign of blood anywhere. The bright light stung his eyes for only a moment as he adjusted. He turned on the faucet, cupped his hands, and began to drink greedily.

"You don't have to drink that," the low, deep voice of the incubus said, the man stepping up behind the teenager. "I made you some tea," he added. Rory stood upright, looking into the mirror at Ryder's reflection. The incubus was dressed much more casually—slacks and a polo shirt, all three buttons undone.

"Tea? Thank ye'," Rory said. Before he could turn around, Ryder had wrapped his arms around him from behind, draping a large terry-cloth robe over Rory's lithe frame. "This is…mine?"

Ryder grinned. "Yes. It's yours now. There are a lot of things that are yours now. Miss Berry took away your freedom, but in exchange she has given you a lot of material wealth here. Come on, I'll show you." He took Rory's hand and led him back into the bedroom. Now that he was fully conscious, Rory was able to see just how nice the room actually was. All of the furniture—the bed, tables, chairs, and dressers—were made of hand-crafted woodwork. The fabrics used on the bed and seats were velvet, the curtains thick silk.

"Wow, this is a really nice room," the overwhelmed teen said, looking over things.

"Open the drawers and wardrobes. You'll find clothing there, your size," Ryder instructed. "I took the pleasure of securing some things for you. I hope you like them."

Rory cocked his head and looked at the man. "Ye' went and shopped for all this in just the few hours I was asleep?" He bent back over the dresser drawers he was inspecting, running his fingers across numerous pairs of jeans and slacks, socks and underwear.

"No. I had time. At least I seemed to. Only Miss Berry, Artie, and Kitty know what time really is here. Anyone else is completely unaware, myself included. I think its part of Miss Berry's love of insanity. She wants the disassociation with time to mess with our minds. That's my theory at least. Honestly you could have been asleep for days or hours. After so many years like this, I really have no more sense of what time even is. I wanted you to have an opportunity to heal without pain, and to gather up your strength," the older man replied. "You'll need your strength for…whatever happens next."

"Whate'er happens next?"

Ryder looked down at the floor and frowned. "Yes. See, Miss Rachel plans to…she's ready for some of your…" He couldn't bring himself to say the words even though he knew the task. "You'll need all your strength so you don't get too weak afterward."

"After what?"

The incubus sighed, knowing he had no choice but to tell Rory what was coming for him. "She's anxious to take some of your blood. Sadly, I know she has no intention of using a needle, or fangs, or even a small prick of the finger."

Rory paled. "What does she intend to use?" His throat was dry again and his heart was pounding louder than the rumbles of hunger in his stomach.

"I can't tell you. I can't because I don't know for sure. I do know that she has some…sadistic tendencies and—I can't say anymore. It makes me sick," Ryder replied, still staring down.

"Then help me. Help me out of here. We can both escape and we can get Sam and me friends to protect ye' too," Rory pleaded. He took Ryder's hand and tugged for his attention. "Come on, help me."

Ryder gulped and closed his eyes, forcing away the moisture forming in the corners of his eyes. "I can't. There is no escape for me from here, and there's no escape for you. You have to trust me on that. The only way you're getting out of here is if this Sam or your friends can break you out. Even then, they would have one hell of a fight on their hands. Artie, Kitty, and others that would stop them."

"Sam won't let any o' that stop him," Rory argued confidently. "He's coming for me, I know it, and when he does, we'll take ye' too. Sam has friends that will help him, then Artie and Kitty and whoe'er else Rachel has in her army won't stand a chance." Rory smiled, but the fear in his eyes told the truth. He was terrified that Sam might come, and might not make it to him. That Sam might be killed, or worse.

-ooo-

Sam walked into Scandals, thankful that Sebastian was not on his throne. It meant the sheriff was most likely in his office, or down in the basement with one of his many 'toys'. One of Sebastian's favorite ways to kill boredom was to seduce a heterosexual fangbanger, take him to the basement, put him up in a sling, and relentlessly penetrate him for hours on end. By the time he was sated, the poor victim would be sore for a week or longer with no idea what happened due to a little glamouring. The only hint the man would have that something was amiss besides the intense ache was that his loins would begin to stir whenever he looked at Sebastian. It was a hobby that disgusted Sam, more because of the deception and abuse of power than the sexual aspect.

The vampire didn't bother to knock on the office door. He simply threw it open, finding both Sebastian and Santana at the desk. Santana was counting cash into a lockbox, ticking off items in a ledger while Sebastian was engrossed in his computer. They both looked up at the intrusion, a mixture of curiosity and annoyance on their faces.

"It's rude to just barge in. What if we were in a state of undress?" Sebastian asked sarcastically.

"Nothing I haven't seen before. We have a problem," Sam announced, skipping the formalities. He stood in front of the desk, looking down at the sheriff.

"Oh, 'we' do, do 'we'? And what might that be?" the older man questioned, raising an eyebrow. He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and kicking his feet up on the desktop, more out of disrespect for the younger vampire than for comfort.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, 'we' do. Rory's been taken by that banshee bitch."

All overtones of sarcasm and humor left Sebastian's face immediately, the man dropping his feet from the desk and sitting upright. Santana continued what she was doing, but glanced up at the sudden change in her maker's demeanor.

"That's right. She took him. I don't believe she'll kill him, but when she gets his blood inside of her…" Sam began, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"She'll practically be a god," Sebastian finished for him. "We have to rescue him," he added gravely. "It worries me though. She still has that succubus, and she was pretty challenging to fight. If she has more of those on her side, we might be in for one hell of a battle."

Sam nodded in agreement. "That's why we need to get together everyone we have on our side to help. You two, me, the shifters Mike and Tina. I have a warlock friend as well. Two humans who are friends of Rory's and insist on helping are also coming along. Do you have anyone else you can call in favors from?"

Sebastian scoffed. "Not really. Not for something this important."

"What about The Authority?" the blonde asked hopefully.

The sheriff shook his head. "They won't care. Unless it involves the vampires directly, they won't bat an eye. The life of a leprechaun-human hybrid is the least of their concerns." He stared at the desperate man, genuinely saddened that he had to deliver a negative answer. "Forget it, Sam. The Authority is not an option."

Sam sighed. "I can count on you two though?"

"Yes," Sebastian said without hesitation. Santana simply rolled her eyes, knowing she didn't really have a choice. If her maker ordered her to help rescue the leprechaun, then she would give it her best, but only out of obligation.

"Good. Now the hard part is finding out where they are," Sam lamented. "Where would a banshee hide out, anyway?"

"Stonehenge," Santana offered cheerfully. "It is Celtic after all." She still didn't bother looking up from her task as bills flipped through her fingers at a lightning pace.

"Very funny. Stonehenge is all the way overseas," Sam stated. "I doubt she went all the way back there. Besides, it's just a bunch of big rocks."

Sebastian chuckled and sat back again. "She very well may have taken him to Ireland, however. Think about it. The only reason she came here was for the leprechaun. Why would she stay? If you ask me, I'm willing to bet she's in some old castle in Ireland, waiting for his rescuers to come barging in like knights in shining armor."

All three vampires were startled as Sam's cell phone rang. It was Blaine.

"Sam, we recruited Tina and Mike and came back to your house. When we got here, something was waiting for you. A package. I think you need to get back as soon as you can," Blaine said. He didn't wait for a reply before hanging up, simply saying he would see them soon.

"I guess it's off to the Evans Estate we go then," Sebastian smirked.

Santana shoved the money in the lockbox and turned around, locking it in a larger steel safe. Without a word she left the room to inform their employees that she and Sebastian would be out of town for an undetermined period of time. She didn't trust herself to keep quiet this time—she had no tolerance for Sam Evans or his pet leprechaun.

"We'll take our own means of travel. I've been wanting an excuse to drive the Bentley again," Sebastian bragged. Sam rolled his eyes and left, anxious to return home and find out what the mystery package was all about.

-ooo-

"Jeez, Samuel, you really tore this place up," Santana scoffed as she and Sebastian followed the younger vampire into his home. "Good thing you aren't a woman. I would hate to see you on the rag."

"That's disgusting, Santana," Sebastian scolded, wrinkling his nose. The three of them paused in the living room, where the rest of the group was gathered.

"Quick introductions for everyone who doesn't know each other," Sam said as he began to point to each of his associates. "Sebastian, Santana, Mercedes, Kurt, Mike, Tina, Blaine. Now you all know each other and we can get on to business." He then turned his attention to Blaine. "Let's see this mystery package."

Blaine handed Sam a small box about the size of a carton of cereal. On the front of it was Sam's name in fancy script, with the words 'Open Me' underneath. Sam rolled his eyes at the childish order but complied anyway, tearing off the brown paper from the box. He pulled open the flaps and inside he found something very unpleasant.

All three humans plus the two shifters jumped back in horror at the item inside the box. It was a human hand, cauterized at the end, with an envelope attached to it with a ribbon. Sam examined the hand carefully, verifying that it indeed was not his boyfriend's.

"It's not Rory's. It's a woman's hand," Sam announced. A collective sigh of relief filled the room, and then an uneasy silence as the realization that this had been a hand belonging to a human set in. This hand could have belonged to any one of them, and the fact that it wasn't Rory's was a relief, but it was still awful.

The vampire snatched the envelope away, tucking the hand back into the box and setting it on the floor at his feet. He opened the envelope and took out a piece of paper—a letter.

Vampire,

I have your leprechaun. You have no chance of ever recovering him from my home, however you are more than welcome to join him in servitude. I have no intention of killing him, so I'm sure he would love if you came for a visit and kept him company for the eternity I need him to stay here. I promise you that he is in most excellent hands and will remain so. I highly advise you to pledge yourself to me and come to stay with him. If he stays happy, his purpose here will be much better served. I strongly suggest that you not even think for a moment of fighting; his fate is sealed either way. Enclosed in this letter is the address of my home should you care to discuss your servitude. Do not come here looking for confrontation. I will only entertain your pledge of service and nothing more.

Most Sincerely,

Miss Rachel Berry

Following her name was a golden star-shaped ornament. As mentioned in the letter, her address was written on a separate sheet of paper.

"That's pretentious," Santana commented casually. "She's so full of herself it's disgusting."

"No kidding. Is she so stupid to think you would actually agree to being her slave?" Blaine remarked, looking right at Sam. "You aren't considering that, right?"

Sam looked up and locked eyes with Blaine. "No. I won't be her slave, and neither will he."

"The address is in Ireland. That's gonna be pretty tough getting there with our weapons and stuff," Mercedes pointed out.

"Not necessarily," Sebastian stated. "Arrangements can be made through…'special' transportation services."

The rest of the group stared at him, only Sam and Santana understanding what he was referring to. Sam groaned, already fearing that this was going to be an unpleasant journey to Ireland.

-ooo-

Rachel sat on the luxurious bed in her massive bedroom, her silk nightgown nearly transparent, leaving nothing to the imagination. Kitty was behind her, tending to Rachel's beautiful brown hair with a hairbrush made of fine bristles and a ruby handle.

"Is it wise to trust Ryder Lynn to the care of your new pet, mistress?" Kitty asked casually. "He is an incubus after all. You know they can be so unpredictable."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but Kitty couldn't see. Kitty was Rachel's right hand woman, the only being that truly understood what she was trying to achieve. The pair were practically lovers, except the banshee had the succubus completely under her control. Being so close, however, Kitty was one of few who could speak so candidly to the powerful songstress.

"To be honest, I don't entirely trust him. I can tell just by the way he tended to the boy when I backhanded him for…disrespecting me." Rachel couldn't bring herself to actually say what it was Rory had done to spite her. Kitty didn't need to know the humiliating moment when a leprechaun spat in her face.

Kitty grinned mischievously. "I could always keep an eye on him for you. You know mistress, I could easily wrap him under my spell if I could just have a little taste of the boy." She had been itching to get just one tiny drop of the leprechaun's blood, knowing that it would enhance her abilities enough to seduce any creature she wanted to, and ever since Ryder Lynn had come into the castle, she had wanted him very badly.

"I know what you're up to, Kitty. I suppose I could reward you for helping me capture the little fairy. You did such a good job even if you took a few unfortunate blows," the banshee said wistfully. "Yes, I think you deserve just a tiny little taste of what the young boy has to offer."

The succubus' eyes glowed a bright teal, her excitement suddenly lighting up. "You don't know just how much that means to me," she said, leaning around and kissing Rachel lightly on the cheek.

Rachel grinned as her protégé continued to brush her hair. "You can play with them both, if you want, but the leprechaun is not to be incapacitated. You know how important he is. Have fun with him, toy with him, but I want him in good condition for his first bleeding."

Kitty's lips turned into a wide smile, her eyes still glowing with pleasure. She knew just what she was going to do, and it was going to be delightful.

-ooo-

Kitty didn't bother to knock on the door to Rory's room. She glided right inside, the door shutting behind her. "Hello, Ryder," she cooed with her sexiest smile. She had changed from her nightgown into something much more alluring. A tight-fitting pleated skirt, a see-through top, and little else. Her hair hung free around her, freshly curled.

"What is it, Kitty? Does Mistress Rachel know you're here? She gave strict orders to keep the boy sequestered from everyone but me until he was called for," Ryder asked, annoyed.

"It just so happens that she does. She decided I deserve a little reward for helping snag the fae. Five drops of his blood from the sweetest artery on his body," she informed him. Rory had yet to be aware of her presence. He was sitting in the adjoining room, listening to some classical music Ryder had brought to him and reading an old novel from the bookcase.

"No! You can't be serious!" Ryder objected, standing from his seat. "I won't let you hurt him!"

Kitty put her finger directly in the middle of his chest and locked eyes with him. "You don't have a choice. If I go back and tell the mistress you interfered with my reward, you know exactly what will happen. I don't have to tell you how horrible it would be, for you and the boy."

Ryder's shoulders slumped, a look of pure despair on his face. The succubus was right—if he interfered, both he and Rory would be punished severely.

Satisfied with her intimidation, Kitty turned and strolled into the next room where Rory was sitting in an oversized chair. She stood in front of him and smiled sweetly, waving her hand at him. "Hi there," she said cutely.

Rory immediately stood up and backed away from her. He raised his hands, his fists already feeling hot and glowing slightly. "Get away from me!"

"Oh calm down, I won't hurt you. Much," the woman replied, arching her eyebrow. "You see, the mistress rewards those who succeed for her, and I have been promised five drops of blood from your sweetest artery."

"What the hell are ye' talking about?" Rory asked, not backing down at all. He was hesitant to actually fight with the woman—she was much stronger than he was, and incredibly fast. "Ye' didn't succeed in anything! Ye' got ye'r arse kicked and she had to come get me herself. What 'ave ye' done to deserve anything at all?"

Kitty sighed. "Ryder!" she called out. "Would you come in here and…oh, make him cooperate? If I do it, I might just make something unpleasant happen." She had no intention of acknowledging that the boy had a very valid point. Kitty knew the only reason Rachel had really rewarded her was because of their close relationship. She also knew that the relationship was mostly in her own head, that Rachel's emotions for her were merely out of self-interest.

Ryder quickly appeared behind the bewildered teenager, his strong hands on the boy's biceps. "Put your arms down, Rory. There's no point trying to fight her," he said sadly. "I'm sorry, but the sooner we get this over with, the better. I'll be right here with you, I promise."

"But…What's going on? What's she going to do?" Rory asked, turning to face Ryder, fear in his bright blue eyes. "What's she gonna do to me?"

Ryder hung his head, refusing to look his charge in the eyes. "She's going to take a tiny bit of your blood. From your groin."

"What!?" Rory shouted. "No! If she wants it so bad why can't she take it from somewhere else, like me arm?"

"She was promised the sweetest artery, and that happens to be in the inner thigh, where the groin muscles are. It's going to be unpleasant, but the sooner we get it over with, the sooner you can forget about it and she'll leave. I swear, I will be right here with you."

Rory sighed, feeling defeated. "That's all she's going to do, right? Nothing else?"

"Oh quit worrying already and get your pants off," Kitty chimed in. "I'll make it quick just so I don't have to listen to your whining." She then let out a chuckle that sent shivers down both male's spines. "Oh and Ryder, you won't be using your so called charms on him to make this easy for him. I want him to scream for me. I want him to beg me to stop."

Ryder reluctantly led Rory back to the bedroom, motioning for him to lay back at the end of the bed, his legs hanging over the side. The incubus gently removed the teen's pants and underwear then sat beside him.

"I'll hold your hand, alright? When it hurts, just squeeze," Ryder instructed. Rory slowly nodded, feeling humiliated being on display for the succubus; a creature well known for her seductive abilities who had very well seen numerous men with much better bodies than his.

Kitty sauntered into the room, surveying her prey. She reached behind her and pulled out a small knife, the blade shining in the light. With a smile, she knelt down between the boy's widely parted legs, caressing his thighs and brushing against his crotch until he achieved an involuntary erection.

"Very nice, leprechaun. Your vampire must have been very satisfied," she complimented, admiring his stiff organ. Her eyes then turned to his inner thigh as she brought the small blade down, grazing his skin. "This is going to hurt. A lot," she warned, grinning.

Rory felt like his entire lower body was on fire as the knife pierced his flesh. It didn't go deep—Kitty was only allowed a very tiny bit—but the sensation of pain was still the same. Tears slid down from his eyes as he squeezed Ryder's hand with strength he didn't even know he had. After a moment, he felt the blade retreat, replaced by Kitty's soft lips. He felt her cool hand wrapping around his penis, agonizingly slowly stroking him up and down. He felt like his body was betraying him, allowing him to feel pleasure at this demon's touch.

Moaning in pleasure, Kitty finally pulled back, licking the wound, which quickly closed up as she ran her finger across the parted flesh. She stood, releasing her grip on the teen's pulsing dick and staring at him, then up at Ryder.

"That was amazing," the woman declared, licking her lips. She felt her body warm as the liquid drained down her throat and into her core. It was like every single nerve in her flesh was tingling with power. "And now, boys, I get to have a little fun with you."

"What are you talking about? You said you were here for blood, and now you got it. What else do you want?" Ryder demanded, still holding the teen's hand. He could feel a pulsing heat that was quickly fading away from the young man's grip.

Kitty grinned, approaching the incubus and tracing her finger along his collarbone. "You, of course. I've wanted you for ages, Ryder. That muscular body, that adorable face. That very large cock. I've seen it. I know how it looks engorged, and I hunger for it, but you have denied me all these years. Now that I've had his blood, I am strong enough to seduce even you."

Ryder stood up, letting go of Rory's hand. "You wouldn't dare! I will never succumb to you. I would rather die," he seethed.

Annoyed, Kitty looked down at the pained boy. His face was still red from his tears, his nose still swollen, and his eyes still blackened. She then looked up at Ryder, into his pretty eyes on his boyish face. Her eyes began to glow a faint red.

"No!" Ryder yelled, but it was all for naught. He already felt his body losing control as Kitty worked her magic on him. He tore his clothes off in a few swift motions, leaving himself standing there before her, nude and aroused.

"There's that massive cock I have been waiting for," Kitty said, licking her lips. There were already beads of precum dripping from the slit. As soon as her eyes stopped glowing, Ryder's gaze shifted down at his hurt friend, lying vulnerable on the bed.

Kitty was furious as she watched him stare at the boy, but she maintained composure. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" she asked coyly. Ryder nodded slightly.

"He's kind, even in unfortunate circumstances. He's a purity you will never understand."

Kitty huffed. "You have it bad for him. I haven't seen you this bad since…" she trailed off, deciding not to voice whatever memory she was thinking of. "Well, I guess there's only one thing to do. You need to consummate the relationship. Show him your love," she said, placing her fingertip under his chin and staring into his eyes again. "Show him your love, Ryder. Take him for yours, and show him your love."

"No!" Ryder shouted again. "I refuse! I will never do that to him!"

Kitty's eyes glowed again as she stared at Ryder. "Oh my dear, you don't have a choice. I easily stripped you. I can just as easily force you into him. You're so in love with the boy, your body aches for him, doesn't it?" she taunted. "You want to feel him writhe beneath you in pleasure and pain as you make him yours. It's in your nature. It's what you do, Ryder. Stop being afraid of it."

Again, Ryder felt his body become helpless, losing control. He tried to fight it, but it was useless. Kitty's magic was strong, and it was working on him. She continued to taunt him with encouraging words, urging the incubus to make Rory his own. The weakened boy was still on the bed, hurting, confused, dizzy and afraid. It had only been five drops of blood, but there was something in Kitty's very being that seemed to paralyze him, much like Ryder's numbing spell.

"Kitty, please, stop this," Ryder pleaded. "This isn't right and you know it!"

Kitty smiled and glanced over at the human lying on the bed. "He looks so much like him, doesn't he?"

Ryder's face paled a sickening white. "Don't… this is beyond cruel, Kitty. Don't do this, I'm begging you."

Instead of arguing, the succubus' eyes glowed brighter, and Ryder felt his body lose complete control. He felt something unnatural creeping into him, every nerve in his body igniting with lust until it was painful.

"Go on, do it. You know how bad you want it. It'll be so easy. Just slide into him, fill him. Fill him with your demonic seed," Kitty went on. "Take him. It's your nature, don't deny it," she cooed. "It's been too long for you, hasn't it? He looks just like him. Maybe he's a reincarnation. Maybe he's just temptation. Maybe he's here just to fulfill your needs. Whatever it is, take him. Now," she ordered.

Ryder approached Rory in a trance-like state. Never before had he felt so powerless as his hands hitched the boy's legs up onto his shoulders, exposing the innocent orifice to his massive erection. "I'm so sorry, Rory. Forgive me."

Rory didn't have the strength to protest. Kitty's spell was so strong that it was immobilizing, and his leg felt numb and useless from her injury against him. His erection had subsided, but he was left incredibly weakened. She had done something else to him besides cut him, but what it was he had no idea. He tried to summon forth his light, but all that happened were pale yellow crackles from his fingertips. I'm going to die. He's going to… Oh God, why can't I move? Why can't I make me power happen? I need it or else this is going to.. Ryder is going to… he's gonna rape me… He felt himself being manipulated into a vulnerable position with the aid of rough, strong hands. He felt his shirt being torn from his body, leaving him naked. He felt a large, muscular body in front of him, spreading his legs apart before something wet was spread on his rear. It was the dripping head of his caretaker's massive cock preparing to enter. He knew what was coming, and he was afraid but powerless to stop it. Please make this stop. God please help me! Sam, come get me! Me body is for Sam, no one else. I can't let this…

He screamed in agony as his ass lit on fire at the pain of something large entering him, roughly penetrating, sliding in and out, slamming into him over and over. It was nothing like what Sam had done with him. Sam was gentle, loving, tender. Sam made him feel special and aroused. This was entirely alien to him. He was being violated, tortured against his will by an unnaturally sized penis belonging to a monster.

He cried tears of terror and pain, called out for help until a hand clasped over his mouth. He heard loud, feminine laughter and equally loud, masculine grunting with every thrust. He felt his insides suddenly flooding with burning hot liquid, the manly groaning becoming louder still as his assailant achieved orgasm. Their eyes locked for the first time since it began and what he saw in Ryder's eyes was terrifying. No longer did he see the kind man that had befriended him. Instead, he saw pure lust, fueled by primal instincts of desire.

Ryder was locked in a state of passion, or what his body believed was passion. Kitty's magic was tearing his mind to pieces. At first he felt like dying, anything to end the ordeal. Once he had inserted himself, however, everything changed. His mind suddenly turned him into a sexual beast with one purpose: to fuck at any cost.

The closer the incubus came to orgasm, the more intensely the evil in his brain became. He was turned on all the more by the weak, writhing body beneath him. His cock grew harder still as he watched the boy's tears flow freely. He was being controlled by animalistic cruelty. The more pain he caused his charge, the harder he pounded. When Rory finally gave up struggling, Ryder cried out in pleasure, filling the teen up with hot cum until it overflowed, dripping out of his damaged hole as he pulled out.

Time passed but Rory knew not how much. It could have been simply minutes or hours or more. He was in so much pain that he couldn't comprehend anything except the hurt. He didn't know which hurt worse—the raping dick, or the feeling of betrayal from his friend. His head was swimming with so many emotions he thought his brain might explode. It was then that he passed out, but the torment was not over. Ryder went on to have two more ruthless orgasms that Rory would not know about even once he woke again in Ryder's arms.