A/N: In the last episode of BattleStar Galactica, things did not look good for Derek at all. Left alone and outnumbered, he was forced to retreat into his mind, only to find he wasn't safe there either. He took a chance, knowing that there was only one way out and the consequences would be dire if he failed. So what happened next?

Heaven or Hell? Duel 3! Let's Rock!

Paying the Price

Chapter 10: True Master

Adam had always been patient.

During the days in which blood had flown through his veins, he was raised to be patient. These teachings had allowed him to build his empire. It brought him the power and money to spread his influence, shielded by a guise of the very thing he set to destroy. It brought him many followers, most of those willing to sip from his knowledge. For those more difficult, gradually sewing the truths that he knew into their minds required persistence or, if that failed, persuasion.

All of this was brought about through patience. The patience to learn and craft various plans, to reach a level of enlightenment that allowed him to die but continue living through his Bliss.

After well over a hundred years of practicing this dying art, Adam was starting to loose his patience.

Derek's body lay slumped against the wall. His eyes were still wide, but the color had faded from them, as it did from his skin. Despite his deathly appearance, he was very much alive as was evident by his shallow breath.

This was Derek Stiles' final stand. The physical strength of his body was taken to fuel the battle raging within.

A futile effort, Adam mused, though he was a bit surprised that he had held out so long. He had underestimated the surgeon's stubbornness. It mattered not. The outcome was inevitable and Derek would be punished for his insolence. Adam doubted he would have any issues with him disobeying orders when all was said and done, but he would not make the same mistake of second guessing him again.

Not when his new servant was already testing his patience.

-----

His hair and clothes whipped around him softly as he fell.

Derek clenched and twisted his body, his perpetual fall far from his concerns. Didymus's brain molded frighteningly well with his, bringing with it an equally frightening barrage of images. The intensity of them was more of the same, sending spasms of blood thirst and resistance through his body. What had truly terrified the shuddering remains of his sanity was not the bloody montage.

It was the fact that he could no longer tell where he ended and his dark self began.

Derek felt like vomiting.

His anchors were gone. He had tried to cradle the fragile images of various friends and family, sinking tooth and nail into anything he could hold onto. Those pictures proved too brittle, cracking with fluid crimson lines and shattering before him. The resulting shards stabbed him, puncturing wounds for his psychotic rage and laughter to escape.

"Dr. Stiles."

Angie's sweet voice belied her firm set face. Her eyes locked with his, shimmering with unwavering faith. She nodded to him from the opposite side of the operating table and he felt himself nod in return.

"Let's start the operation."

He gripped the sides of his head, saliva sputtering from his lips as his laughter erupted. He could feel the knife in his hand as it cut through the skin. He could hear the moist suction of bloodied flesh tearing under the blade's edge.

"Dr. Stiles!"

Angie smiled brightly at him, her eyes closed and hands behind her back. Her light blonde hair was darkened, clinging together from the drying blood in it. Her pink uniform was also splashed with scarlet, the rosy shade of her cheeks put to shame by the blood that drizzled down to her chin.

Derek felt his own skin awash in crimson. The patient's body lay tore open before them. Organs and bones swelled from the ripped torso, falling and squishing against the floor.

"The operation was a success! Good work, Doctor!"

A dry heave raked his stomach. His laughter was broken by the nauseas thrashing of his body as he willed his gut to purge what he had inside. For his efforts, his heaves only succumb to a psychotic cry.

Derek watched himself casually walk through the intensive care unit, several patient filled beds lined the walls on either side of him.

"Dr. Stiles, I'd like you to take your rounds now."

Derek looked down at his clenched fists, seeing his fingers tightly hug his scalpel to his palm. The knife's edge traced a red line down a back, organs and fat issue blooming from the slit. It plunged into the chest of another unnamed person. A red ribbon followed the scalpel as it was yanked out, allowing the blade to lap up the sweet nectar. Again and again, the scalpel plunged and cut, eating and drinking its fill, caking his hand even thicker with blood.

Only small specks of white could be seen on the formally off cream walls. Blood spattered and dripped from everything, touching even the sun's rays with crimson. The patients lay unmoving, their remains tossed about. Derek continued his casual stroll down the hall.

"You always take such good care of the patients, Derek."

Derek clutched his head, pressing the cold metal of the scalpel into his forehead. Red streaks coursed through his hair as he curled up. "S-s . . .so what's hold you back . . . Stiles?" he muttered on jagged breath. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He clutched his chest as it shuddered horridly. "Yes . . . I am . . ." His twisted grin slowly cracked. A pained yell forced through his jumbled chortles and he tightened his grip on his hair. "No . . ." he grunted, slowly tossing his head from side to side. "No – no . . .no!"

Chuckles broke his desperate cry up. His grin was carved into his face again. "What's . . . wrong . . . Derek? Why are you . . . hurting yourself like this . . ?"

"Dr. Stiles!"

Angie slowly brushed her bangs from her eyes. She smiled at him, a backdrop of autumn leaves accenting her innocent glow. She closed her eyes and folded her arms behind her back.

"That . . . girl . . ." Derek gasped. His gnarled left hand slowly traced down his face, smearing blood on his brow. "It's her! She's . . . she's the one . . ."

"What made you change? Why do you like killing so much?"

She reached out to touch his cheek. Her soft features were blurred by her sorrow. A thin coating of tears rippled her dulled, green eyes.

"You used to like saving people's lives."

"Dammit! She's holding me back!" Putrid anger foamed in Derek's throat. He pulled his hand away from his head, starring at the bloodied scalpel clenched within. "I . . . I have to . . ."

His hands were wrapped tightly around her throat. She lay on the concrete, her body framed by dead, shriveled leaves. The shine from her eyes was gone, their dark color cutting into the deathly white of her skin. Derek laughed as he felt her grow cold.

" . . get rid of her!"

Her pale lips parted as her empty eyes stared into his. A tiny whisper cracked from her throat. "I always love watching you smile. . ."

Derek looked up from his hand as something yellow fluttered in his vision. Angie was before him, eyes closed and completely restful as she joined him in his endless fall. Her waving hair framed her body angelically, once again bringing out her sweet aura. Derek let out an angry snicker as he looked at her.

"Y-you . . . dammit . . !" He grabbed the collar of her uniform and roughly jerked her towards him. Not a flinch came from her in response. " . . . when I g-get rid of you . . ." Her head dipped forward, coming to rest on the crook of his neck. Derek's eyes widened at the stroke of her soft hair against his skin. His taut grin loosened into a gape. "A . . Angie . . .no!" He recoiled bitterly at her warmth, pushing her back to full arm's length. She retained her unconscious state, further fueling his rage as he tightened his hold on her collar.

"I-I . . . I'm going . . ." He raised the scalpel high above his head. " . . to end this . . ."

He closed his eyes as a wash of tears squeezed from them. A poisoned laugh hiccupped from him as he brought the knife down, tensing himself.

"Aaaah . . . arrrgh . . . uhng . . ."

Derek leaned his forehead onto Angie's chest, feeling the blood seep and spread through his uniform. He slowly opened his eyes and took in a shaky breath, staring at the knife he plunged into his belly. Strained gasps of pain escaped him at first, his trembling lips slowly pushing out broken chuckles as his voice grew. He held Angie closer to him as he curled up, retching laughter.

A gasp of air was sucked from the wound as he pulled the knife out. Again, he raised the scalpel over his head and stabbed himself, drool and tears streaking his face all the while. "Th-there . . . you want blood . .?" he screamed. He pushed the scalpel into his flesh as far as he could, twisting it until he felt it scrape one of his ribs. " . . have it!"

He ripped it from his body again, bits of flesh flinging out of his mangled wound. He stabbed himself in the thigh, the shoulder, the arm . . . again and again as he breathed in the smell of his blood. Each plunge of the knife increased his manic laughter. "My scalpel is not a murder weapon." Tearing a slash across his belly, his howls grew madder as he plunged his hand into the wound and felt out his digestive track.

Slowly, Derek pulled out his intestines, looking down in hysterics as he groped his own innards. "If anyone's blood will be on it . . it will be my own . . ."

He took in several gasps as he tried to catch his breath. His laughter was still potent, powered by the amusement of his disembowelment, but the violent act had somewhat sated it. Derek hugged his intestines to him, blinking the tears from his eyes and noting the red specks on his glasses. He bit his lip as his laughs picked up again. Torn flesh and globs of blood floated all around him, and as he focused on the girl before him, he noticed that Angie was covered in it.

His chuckles died down to drenched hiccups. Derek lifted a hand towards her face. Everything from the tips of his fingers to past his wrist was a solid red, leaving a scarlet trail on her cheek as he stroked it. He could still feel the softness of her skin through the thick liquid that coated his hand. "Oh Angie . . . red doesn't look good on you." He looked down at the hand that cradled his intestines and saw the scalpel still tightly held within those fingers. He lifted that hand, watching the blade gleam as the blood drizzled from it completely. "But . . . you won't ever have to wear that color . . ." He placed the tip of the knife to his chest. "Not if I can help it . . ."

Taking in a deep breath, which was quickly expelled as a dark chortle, he pushed the scalpel through his sternum. All breathing from him had stopped in that moment, tightly silencing his psychotic murmurs. Dark tar sputtered from the wound. His heart pounded. Dropping the scalpel, Derek cradled the puncture with both hands. The tar seeped through his fingers with each pulse.

He was finally able to take in a gasp of air after several agonizing minutes. Numbing cold had spread from his chest wound and slowly frosted his body. Derek leaned his forehead onto Angie's shoulder as his heart beat screamed in his ears. "Angie . . ." he whispered. "When this is over, you'll be as pure as you were before. I won't let you become stained . . ." He choked slightly as the chill poured into his lungs. "No matter what the cost . . . I won't let anyone else die . . ."

Derek felt something press against his feet, only realizing it was a solid floor after he nearly lost his balance. He gently lowered Angie to the ground as his dropped scalpel clattered at his side. He glanced at it slightly as he knelt beside the nurse, one hand still pressed firmly to his chest. He looked back at her, laughter raking his body once again, a long with the shivers from the cold.

"So, this is how you've come to accept Bliss?"

Derek did not look up as he felt Adam's presence behind him. Though perturbed by the obvious lack of respect from his servant, Adam made no move to punish him. That would come soon enough. For now, he would use his remaining patience to peel him apart. "You are going to sate your lust for death with your own?"

"No, Adam."

Derek rose to his feet and turned slowly. The jagged grin that Didymus wore so well was on his face, highlighted by the doctor's gleaming and blood shot eyes. "No, I won't die, because I need to save my patient." He took a moment to back his glare and words with a chuckle. "He will live, I will live . . . and you . . ." Derek's grin turned to a scowl, his laughter ceasing. " . . you are going to get the hell out of my head . . . once and for all!"

-----

A/N: You see everyone! This is what happens when I work 12 hour shifts for four days straight! Or that's what my co-workers say anyway.

And the score is –

Adam: 2 Derek: 1

Derek's on the scoreboard! Yay! Go Derek! He's finally got some control of the situation, but at what cost?

If this chapter confused you – good! It was supposed to sort of be from Derek's POV so everyone could see how messed up his thought meats are right now.

(pokes Derek's thought meats)

Eeeewwww . . . . he's cwazy . . .

Speaking of crazy, it's time for Kurai Pantsu Wasabi!

Derek leaned his forehead onto Angie's chest, feeling the blood seep and spread through his uniform.

Derek: (opens his eyes) Hey! I've never been this close before. . . . (nuzzles Angie's breasts with his face) Oh yeah . . . .

Angie: (wakes up) Ah! Hey, you pervert! (slaps him)

Derek: Ow! Stop it! (Angie grabs the scalpel from him)

Angie: I'm gonna butcher you good! (chases him)

Derek: Gaaaaah!

Adam: Dammit you guys! Do you know how hard it is to mind rape someone? Stop it! I'm super cereal you guys!

Listen to Adam everyone. He is totally super cereal.