Tainted But Beautiful

Part 2: The Secrets

12. Coven

Pairings: AkuZeku, Zemyx, AkuRoku, AxDem, minor onesided VexZex

Rated: M

Warnings: Vampires, vampires, vampires...uh, yaoi, AU-ish-ness, abuse, noncon, rape, graphic scenes, character death, overall weirdness.

Summary: Axel is a powerful vampire slayer who's captured Zexion, a vampire, as his pet. What Axel doesn't bargain on is Demyx, his former student, developing a strong attraction to Zexion...

Notes: Here's a (late) Christmas present for all you faithful readers--chapter twelve of Tainted But Beautiful! I'm really happy for this, because this is the farthest I've ever gotten on a chapter fic (The Captive folded after eleven, and nothing else has even come close). I've also written the thirteenth chapter, but not the fourteenth, so except a rather slow update (sorry!).

This chapter contains some Zexion backstory, and Saix shows up here. I don't like him that much either, so my characterization of him is probably rather wonky. Sigh. But hey, if the preview for the last chapter hadn't clued you in, Demyx shows up again! And I know you're all looking forward to that.


"Honestly, Ienzo, you ought to take better care of yourself."

Zexion merely fixed Vexen with a dark glower, though he pulled back and hissed when Vexen, none-too-gently, started daubing antiseptic onto the injuries on Zexion's arm. "Stop that, dammit!"

"Do you want to heal or not?" said Vexen, still taking that haughty "doctor-knows-best" tone, arms akimbo. "If you won't let me inspect your injuries, you won't be able to heal properly. Now--let me see again."

"For some reason, you're speaking as if it's my fault I was injured," said Zexion coldly, though he extended his arm to Vexen again, allowing the older vampire to apply liberal amounts of stinging antiseptic to his multiple cuts and scrapes.

"Well, isn't it? In the past you've never cared at all about your physical well-being, so I assumed--"

"That's why it's dangerous to assume," said Zexion with a sigh, turning away from Vexen and gritting his teeth to keep from hissing in pain. Vexen was now bandaging a particularly deep gash on his arm, drawing the bandage tight with a little more gusto than was necessary. Zexion tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation of Vexen's cold fingers on his skin--he knew that the elder vampire knew what was he doing, and was the only person present who both cared enough and had the expertise to heal Zexion, but Zexion had never quite gotten used to the cold, practiced motions of Vexen's hands. Just the way his fingers lingered a tad longer than necessary...in the more-than-doctorly tenderness they used to press against his skin...

It should be expected, and a part of Zexion was surprised that Vexen hadn't acted more solidly on his intentions. As an incubus, Zexion should be too used to other, higher-ranked vampires viewing him...that way...and he shouldn't begrudge their advances. He should welcome them.

But Zexion had never been a typical incubus, and he had long made that fact known to Vexen. And Vexen, for the most part, respected that and never tried to push Zexion beyond what Zexion wanted. "For the most part" being the operative words.

"There," said Vexen, finishing with the bandage--but he had plenty more to apply, as the thick roll of bandages in his other hand testified. "Truth be told, though, you've never returned from a mission with so many injuries before. Although I wonder just what sort of mission it was, if it took you two months..."

"I do not wish to speak of it," said Zexion, his voice as sharp and cutting as possible. Then, sighing again, he glanced towards the door of Vexen's chambers, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "In fact, if I had my way I would not even be here. We're wasting time, every second--"

"Ienzo, this is a major decision you're asking us to make." Some of the haughtiness had slipped out of Vexen's voice--to be replaced by a coaxing, near-patronizing tone that was almost as bad. "To aid you in search of a human slayer...a human slayer whom you want to return alive."

"Yes, thank you for being able to state what I have already told you at least ten times already," snapped Zexion, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

Vexen looked affronted at first, almost as if Zexion had hit him, but he rearranged his expression back into that doting, patronizing expression--don't get angry, it's the way he's always spoken to incubi, be glad that he already respects you this much--and spoke calmly. "Don't be so uppity, Ienzo. It doesn't suit you well. And besides, you know the rules of the coven. A major decision such as this requires the agreement of the entire coven."

"They've already been deliberating for at least an hour," complained Zexion, intensifying his efforts to burn a hole in the door with his glare. "How much longer could it take? Aeleus should have already been able to convince them all--"

"On something like this?" Vexen emitted a derisive snort. "Don't delude yourself, Ienzo. And I do not see why you're in such a hurry, myself."

"My reasons are mine alone," replied Zexion, his retort acid.

Vexen looked ready to shoot back an equally acid retort, but seemed to have bitten back any protest; when he spoke, his voice was level, but tinged with a definite pall of exasperation. "Be grateful that we are already helping you as much as we are, Ienzo. At the very least, we're seriously considering your outlandish request. Usually--"

"Yes, usually you would send me on my merry way--perhaps with a punishment or two--and tell the little incubus to stop bothering the important people with his silly concerns," said Zexion with a low snarl, trying unsuccessfully to yank his arm out of Vexen's grip again. "I know that. That is what the Superior would do to me if I ever came to him with this request. That's why I came to you. I knew that you'd at least give me the time of day."

"More time than I ought to have," grumbled Vexen, sounding slightly disgruntled. "Ienzo, quite seriously, why don't you tell me what you've been doing these past two months? The deliberations will not end for quite some time--" Zexion growled in discontent at that "--so for as long as you're here, you might as well just explain."

"I don't want to." Zexion's answer was instanteous, dispassionately stated. He turned back to Vexen, glaring at the older vampire, a fierce challenge burning in his eyes. "No matter what you do or say. I won't tell you."

"You're starting to make me think that you have done something terrible," said Vexen, matching Zexion's glare with an exasperated look. "No, really, I am intrigued. Half-making a child, for one...why did you do that?"

"Did you not just hear what I said?" snapped Zexion. "I refuse to tell you."

"Ienzo..." Vexen's tone was chiding, irritated. Then, switching tones, he lifted Zexion's arm to inspect it better, ignoring Zexion's annoyed snarl. "What is this? Silver burns..."

"Again, you display a remakable propensity for stating the obvious," said Zexion dryly, turning away from Vexen again. But beneath his sarcasm, he was starting to feel a little worried...the dark red burns around his wrists had, unlike the rest of his injuries, not slowly faded as the days passed and he became more healthy. The pain hadn't gone away entirely, either...

He'd spent nearly two months in those silver chains. Who knew what they'd done to his body?

"These are very...severe...injuries," said Vexen, frowning, his brown furrowing as he held Zexion's wrist in his cold fingers, examining the dark burn... "I can try, but...I don't believe these will heal completely. What happened to you?"

"I'm not telling." Zexion chanted the words in a sing-song tone, hiding his apprehension behind a cavalier veneer. So that was it...he couldn't escape Axel without any signs of his imprisonment. Always, now, forever until the rest of eternity, or whenever Zexion's existence drew to an end...he'd bear the dark, angry burns on his wrists, always reminding him of the taunting, green-eyed slayer...

"Not telling! Ienzo, were you captured by a slayer--"

"Silence, Even," snapped Zexion, infusing his words with an extra dose of cold command. He lifted his eyes to meet Vexen's, fixing the elder vampire with as cold a glare as he could muster. "I will not tell you, and I trust you will not inquire further."

"Ienzo, what--what are you--" sputtered Vexen, his indignity rendering him incoherent--but only for a moment. He gathered himself soon enough, sighing and running his hands through his hair in an unmistakable expasperated gesture. "Sometimes, Ienzo, I have to wonder why I am even friends with you in the first place."

Zexion, for his part, had to admit he wondered the same thing.


He could still remember his first meeting with Vexen. It had been in the vast underground library in the Northern Coven--though most everything in the Northern Coven was underground. Zexion couldn't remember exactly why he had fled to the library in the first place, but suspected one reason above all--the other vampires.

The other incubi and succubi, to be precise. To say that he didn't enjoy their company was an understatement. He hated other incubi and succubi. He knew it was irrational, because they were his kind, his rank, exactly like him--

But they weren't. The others were simple fools, empty-heads whose minds were focused on one thing and one thing only. Not that Zexion didn't enjoy that "one thing" also, but it wasn't the only thing that defined his life, thank goodness. The others loved to congregate in large, chattering groups, where they would natter-natter-natter all day long about their various "conquests" during the night, about their favorite victims, about pretty boys and girls and all other sorts of vapid empty-head things. The succubi tended to gather in conspiratorial circles and giggle in high-pitched voices, while the incubi would lean against the walls and flex and brag to one another. The worst thing that could happen was when a group of incubi and a group of succubi would encounter one another. Then there would be hair-tossing and eyelash-batting from the succubi, and more strenuous flexing and posing from the incubi.

It was enough to make Zexion sick. Whenever he skulked behind a wall, watching the travails of his supposed "brethren", he had to wonder--was he really one of them?

The others knew that he was different, just as much as he did. They couldn't comprehend it, with their silly brainless heads, so they settled for ostracizing him, mocking him incessantly. Laughing whenever they passed by him reading, shutting him down with harsh laughter whenever he asked too many questions. They had all sorts of unpleasant nicknames for him. "Impotent Ienzo" was their favorite, although Zexion wasn't really impotent; he just didn't consider that the defining feature of his life.

It should be. He knew that. It should, but it wasn't. He didn't care for sex beyond as a means of survival. He would creep into humans' windows at night, seduce them and give them nightmares and feed from them, but he didn't derive the same animalistic enjoyment from it the other incubi did. What he did enjoy, if he thought about it, wasn't the act itself but the feeling of superiority, of control, that came with manipulating his victims...

So he was unusual. It didn't bother him. Sometimes, certainly, he wondered why he wasn't normal, but most of the time he viewed his supposed "brethren" with scorn and felt a secret relief that he wasn't an empty-head like they all were.

The library had been an accident. He'd ducked in there for a safe refuge from the other incubi--not that they'd been tormenting him worse than before, but he'd just become fed up with their mocking insults and brainless chatter. So he'd wandered through the halls of the coven headquarters and he'd found...the library.

Zexion knew libraries. He'd seen many before--but never any like this. Everywhere, as far as he could see, books. Towers and towers of dusty, leather-bound volumes lined up in neat rows in shelves that seemed to soar to the very heavens themselves. He had no idea that the coven had even had a place like this, so vast and empty, to the point where it was hard to believe he was still underground.

Zexion slipped silently through the library, clinging to the shadows at first--he had to admit he was somewhat nervous. If he'd never even heard of this place before, it was obvious he wasn't welcome...but his curiosity won out, and he emerged from the shadows to face a bookshelf, and, taking a deep breath (why was he so nervous?), he plucked a book from the shelf.

He stood, expectantly, waiting for something to happen--a trap to spring up, perhaps. There was still that strong feeling that he didn't belong here...but nothing happened, and Zexion relaxed with a sigh and curled up beside the shelf, the book perched in its lap, and began to peruse its pages. It was a heavy, leather-bound volume, its pages yellowed and fading, yet from the showers of dust that burst forth when he opened its covers it was plain the book had rarely been read before. He soon became absorbed in it, in the tiny dark print running in rows across and columns down the pages...losing all sense of time, losing everything but the words floating before his eyes, speaking to him loud and clear even after centuries--

If there was ever a time when Zexion felt like he truly belonged somewhere...felt that he was truly content...it was when he was reading. Nothing, not even the night visits, could compare with the enthralling spell a good book could weave...

He'd lost all track of time as he'd read--it might have been minutes, or hours, or even days; he couldn't tell. And he didn't care. He was just comfortable, content, curled up with a book and lost in his own universe where he was no longer the incubus Zexion, "Impotent Ienzo", but--but someone else, someone from a past life, a naive and elegant boy who had loved his family library above all else--

And then a voice, haughty and irritated, broke through the silence and destroyed the sanctity of his reading. "Just what do you think you're doing here?"

"Ah!" Zexion slammed the book shut with a resounding bang, leaping up and pressing his back to the bookshelf--trying to present the perfect picture of deference. Above him loomed another vampire, a tall, thin, angular vampire with long blonde hair and sharp green eyes that were currently smoldering in rage. An accusing finger was outstretched, pointing straight at Zexion's chest, and fury distorted the vampire's features.

"Honestly, you're all like pests!" he raged, his voice shaking in righteous idignity. "No matter where I go, there's always at least one of you annoying, nattering little vermin scampering around for the express purpose of irritating me, it seems! I don't know what the Superior's thinking, sending all you pests to the North...but I'll have you know I won't stand for it! I won't! Not any longer. Out! Out! Out of my library, little pest, and do not try your tricks on me or I will personally string you by the ankles from the ceiling--with silver chains--and turn you out in the sunlight. OUT!!!"

"Sir--I'm sorry, sir--forgive me, please, I--I didn't know--I didn't know this library was yours, sir, I'm very sorry, I won't come back, I don't know what I was doing, sir, I just saw this book and I became intrigued and I suppose I--I lost track of time--forgive me, sir--" stammered Zexion in one quick breath as the blonde vampire continued raging. He knew the vampire was ordering him out, but he couldn't move--he could only press his back farther into the shelf, feeling the cold stone acutely beneath his shirt, and hug the book even closer to his chest.

"All of you standing around blocking the halls jibbering and jabbering the entire day away!" continued the vampire, throwing his hands up and seemingly howling to the sky--he didn't seem to be paying any attention to Zexion at all. "Don't you realize that some people have places to go? And then whenever anyone sensible--like me--tries to reprimand you all you do is bat your eyelashes or creep up to me and touch me! Well, I'll have you know that won't work, not on me, I, Even of the Visconti! I see all through your ridiculous little tricks, nasty little incubus--! Don't you respect anything? Don't you respect even my private sanctuary! Coming in here because you were intrigued by a book...honestly..."

But abruptly, as he spoke, the vampire's expression changed. The fury slipped from his face like a wave dragging debris back into the ocean, and his eyes widened--became almost shocked. Zexion remained where he was, still obstinately clinging to the book, wondering what was going to happen to him now...

When the vampire turned back to face Zexion, however, he didn't continue his tirade. He instead said, his expression sharp, fixing his eyes on the book in Zexion's arms, "You were reading that?"

What kind of question was that...? Zexion, however, answered as deferently as was expected of one of his station. "Yes, sir. I was."

"Really?" A bit of his old scorn had slipped back into the vampire's manner, and he drew himself up haughtily. "A likely story. Do you even understand what you were reading?"

Zexion hissed inside at the slight, but out loud, he said, still deferently, "Yes, sir."

"I should think so," snorted the vampire, a definite derisive note to his voice now. "Then if you really do, tell me what it was you just read."

"Very well, sir." Zexion drew himself up to his full height--which wasn't much, but it felt better to him than just cowering against the shelf. "The book is an account of vampire history from the Renaissance to the end of the Napoleonic Wars, by one C. Armin Ilander. In it--at the very least, the selection I read--he states that the principal reason for the fall of the traditional, feudal, family-based vampiric structure was the folly of the vampire families themselves. Poor leadership by the family patriarchs, he claims, as well as interfamilial squabbles, helped undermine the strength and standing of the major families. In addition, the common practice of cousin marriage and other forms of inbreeding were linking the family bloodlines together dangerously, and it became more difficult for many to produce viable heirs--at least according to Mr. Ilander."

"Really, hmm?" A pensive frown appeared on the blonde vampire's face, although the slight skeptical light in his eyes had yet to leave. "But any fool--an incubus included, I'd warrant--could simply quote like a parrot. That's no sign of understanding."

"Perhaps not, sir," said Zexion lightly, "but I don't happen to agree entirely with Mr. Ilander's conclusion."

"Oh?" Despite himself, the vampire looked intrigued, his eyebrows rising to meet his hairline. "And how's that, little incubus? Pray tell."

"Mr. Ilander presents an admirable case, sir, when he argues that the families' flaws were a major factor for the end of the feudal system. But while internal difficulties were certainly a component of the fall of the major families, he fails to take in account external influences as well. Such as the ending of the traditional feudal structure in much of Europe at the time, as well as the rise of Enlightenment thinking leading to many non-familial purebloods to question the existing system. The advent of the Industrial Revolution, and the revolutions in America and France, further undermined the power of the families. Obviously, sir, Mr. Ilander's history is hardly objective; you must remember it was commissioned by the leader of the Franco-Spanish Coven specifically to discredit the families still clinging on the last vestiges of power they still had."

His speech finished, Zexion smiled lightly at the astonished blonde vampire and tapped the cover of the book, once, twice.

"Well...ahh...that does...well...you do have a point," said the vampire when he'd regained his voice. "Both external and internal factors did contribute to the fall of the major families...but tell me, how did you know all of that?"

He was suddenly surveying Zexion sharply, as if he'd never seen the incubus clearly before and was trying to determine Zexion's character from intense scrutiny. Zexion already had an answer on hand, however.

"I read, sir. Quite a bit. That's why I...when I entered this library, I became...well." He coughed, a little nervously. "I'm very sorry, sir. I didn't mean to invade on your personal space. I won't come back again..."

He turned, making to leave--but the blonde vampire threw his arm out to block Zexion's path. Zexion stared up at the vampire, nervous now. No doubt he was going to be punished, even after apologizing...

"You really are an incubus?" The vampire's voice was astonished, disbelieving, and he seemed to be struggling to reconcile many warring thoughts as his eyes swept Zexion up and down. "Really...?"

"Yes, sir," said Zexion with a sigh. It took all of his effort to prevent himself from adding, "Unfortunately".

"But you...you're so very..." The vampire paused to collect his thoughts, before continuing. "No. You are...you can't be anything else. But you...you read that...and understood it...and even..." Again, the disbelieving look came over his face.

"Sir, I understand if you're confused. I've never...I've never been quite the typical incubus." Zexion couldn't help but grimace a little when he thought about that--himself as a typical incubus? Thank everything there was that he wasn't. "In fact, I don't particularly enjoy the company of other incubi and succubi. They're all...they're all such mindless, foolish, vapid...vapid...pests."

A little smile flashed across the elder vampire's face--not long enough to be a real one, but enough that Zexion noticed. He straightened up, feeling heartened. "Yes. That's very right. I can see you're quite an...unusual...young man. What is your name?"

"Ienzo, sir." It took Zexion a moment to reply--he wasn't quite sure how at first, because he'd never been spoken to like that by a superior vampire before. It was always, "Hey you!" or "Out of the way!" or "Little incubus, please do this or that..." or "Let's get it on, baby." Never...never had he been addressed as an equal before.

"My name is Even. A pleasure to meet you, Ienzo," said Vexen, and, to Zexion's shock, he extended his hand. The intent behind the gesture was clear--and it astonished Zexion. Shaking hands with a superior vampire...it was almost too much to wrap his mind around.

But he remembered politeness, and he returned the gesture, lifting his hand and grasping Vexen's. They shook solemnly, Zexion vaguely aware of how much stronger Vexen's grip was than his own, and when they broke apart Vexen was smiling at him again--not a patronizing smile, but a smile that was almost...a smile like a friend would give to another. A smile for an equal.

"You're obviously a very intelligent young man," said Vexen, still smiling. "You have talents, and energies...energies I believe would be wasted on simply--well, the duties of one of your station. How, then, would you like to be my assistant...Ienzo?"

"Really...?" Zexion stared in surprise at Vexen, and he was quite sure if he was human his heart would be pounding like he'd just run a marathon. Somehow...something about the way Vexen had said the word "assistant" implied more than just "sexual partner". "But sir, I'm only--I mean--I don't know if it would be..."

"Don't be so hesitant, Ienzo. Goodness knows the Superior's been heaping on me more lab work than I could handle, and I need someone besides Aeleus--someone quick and young and nimble; not to disparage his intelligence, but Aeleus doesn't move quite fast enough for my liking--to help me handle my work load. So, Ienzo? What do you say?"

This time, Zexion didn't hesitate. He had made up his mind. Finally--finally--he was being taken seriously by a higher-ranked vampire. He no longer had to spend his days with the other succubi and incubi, with the empty-heads, with the idiots and vapid fools. He could spend time with people of his same intellectual ability, people who could challenge him, make him feel worth something...

So, it was with the firmest of convictions that he straightened up, looked Vexen in the eye, and said, "Of course, Even. I would love to be your assistant."


That was how it had all started, approximately twenty years ago, one afternoon in a library in the North. And so far, the friendship between Zexion and Vexen--and Lexaeus as well--was still going strong.

Occasionally, Zexion thought, gnashing his teeth as he exited Vexen's chambers fully-bandaged and most of his injuries treated, to his detriment.


Demyx couldn't see anything at first. Nothing but a deep darkness, a darkness that felt infinite, vast, endless--yet comforting as well, in the way it softly swaddled his body, pressed gently down on his eyes...it wasn't trying to hurt him. It was a nice darkness, the kind of darkness rarely experienced outside of the mother's womb.

He wanted to curl up in the darkness longer, to just let his body drift who-knows-where away with the dull nothingness, the comfort of not having to do anything, of not knowing anything...he vaguely remembered bad things had happened, sometime...somewhere...but couldn't remmeber exactly what those things were, and when they'd happened. It had been windy, he was sure, and people had been screaming...

But he couldn't remember anything else and he didn't want to. Not when it was so comfortable in his dark cocoon, his safe sanctuary. He just wanted to stay here forever...

But all good things had to come to an end, and so Demyx's warm contentness vanished the instant a voice, low and feral, yet with a trace of silkiness, shattered his silence and rang in his eardrums:

"Did you bring us a snack, Xaldin...?"

"Not a snack, per se," answered another voice--a deep voice, that nonetheless had a somewhat breathy quality, and a dark sadism brimming beneath...somehow, this voice sounded familiar to Demyx, but he didn't know why, he just couldn't place it... "More like a plaything."

"A plaything...? Was that the entire reason beyond your little excursion?" A faint hint of disapproval had slipped into the first voice. "The Superior will not approve."

"I hardly need his approval for this." In contrast to the first voice, the second voice grew bored, careless. "He doesn't even need to know that the human is here. I'll simply keep it locked securely in this room, and the Superior will be none the wiser."

What might have been a faint derisive snort issued in response. "Don't fool yourself, Xaldin. The Superior's senses are powerful, particularly when humans are concerned. He will find out, sooner or later--in fact, I'd venture to say he knows at the very moment, and hasn't spoken to you yet about it because he sees no point in dealing with someone like you."

"'Someone like you'? What are you trying to imply?"

"Someone, perhaps, who disappears from his coven for months at a time and returns with no conquests to his name and nothing of value, save a single pathetic human he does not even want to eat. Wouldn't you say that the coven has no need for people like that...?" A dangerous note entered the voice, displacing the trace of silkiness and intensifying the voice's feral quality.

The other voice didn't seem bothered by the increasing feralness to the first voice, and even issued a low, dry chuckle. "You're one to talk about what's best for the coven, not being a part of it yourself."

"More, I should think, than you are."

"Ridiculous." Suddenly, all of the sadistic good nature had vanished from the second voice, to be replaced by a dark disapproval. "The Superior might approve of your presence here...but the rest of us do not. The rest of us are still questioning the wisdom of this alliance, the wisdom of the Superior in allowing it to happen. You should know that the rest of us are waiting...waiting for every opportunity to break the terms of this pathetic sham of an alliance..."

"And destroy our Superior's dreams of our two races living in harmony? I think not." The first voice sounded barely perturbed at the other's anger--in fact, he sounded faintly bored, as if he'd already had this conversation before.

"The Superior can posture and spout off about our 'common traits' all that he wants. That doesn't mean that the rest of us will follow." A definite sneer had entered the second voice, as well as a challenge--as if eagerly awaiting the other's response.

By now, Demyx was beginning to slip out of his comfortable dark cocoon in more ways than just sound--slowly, he was beginning to become aware of other sensations. Of an aching throughout his entire body, but especially prominent in his back and the back of his neck...of being folded into uncomfortable right angles, as if he was sitting up...of tight restraints around his arms and chest...

He was waking up. He was emerging from the comforting, dream-like darkness and he did not like that. He struggled against his increasing alertness, struggled to return to that previous blissfully unaware state...but his struggles were futile. Already, he was becoming more sharply aware of his surroundings--the air cold against his face, his limbs aching and chafing beneath the tight ropes. He was clearly bound to a chair, but why, and where was he...?

But already, Demyx felt that he knew. He remembered. Creeping in at the edges of his consciousness was a memory of a smirking man with sadistically glinting purple eyes, a memory of being high above the ground as a violent wind buffeted his body, the memory of a voice, so torn by fury and anguish that it was barely recognizable, screaming his name over and over again...

Oh, shit.

He remembered now. Everything. Fighting the vampires--Xaldin--Axel's rage--the wind, the heights, everything--

So where was he now? He couldn't remember much of what had happened after the battle. He remembered a violent whirlwind, and then a dark alleyway--and then Xaldin hitting him in the head and knocking him out. After that...it was all a blur. Or, more accurately, all darkness.

Now he was waking up, and he had no idea where he was--or even how much time had passed since that horrible battle. He was only aware of the horrible ache in his body, of a violent throbbing on the back of his head as well as lesser stings of pain from other, half-healed injuries on his body...and damn, those ropes were not gentle. They were digging into his skin, bound so tightly across his chest that he was surprised he could even draw breath.

He managed, though--and even managed to open his eyes. It took the longest time for him to crack his eyelids open, though, and admit in the light--because the darkness behind his tightly shut eyelids was the last darkness he had left. His last refuge. So he fought against it, fought against the tide of light and knowledge, fought to stay in the comforting dark, in his ignorance...

But it was all for nothing. Slowly, unwillingly, he opened his eyes anyway. At first, he could see nothing but darkness and a few hazy swirls of color that he managed to clear with a few strong blinks, and then his vision began to consolidate. Shapes appeared out of the gloom, matching voices that were still arguing...

"I will report this to the Superior, if you are unwilling to." This was the first, feral-but-silky voice. The speaker was someone Demyx had never seen before--a man with long, pale blue hair, a color that strangely reminded Demyx of a moonlit night. His eyes were sharp, piercing, golden, with an almost canine quality to them, and a large, x-shaped scar dominated his face. He moved with a strange, loping, wolf-like grace as he headed over to the door of the room--a small, dimly-lit place where Demyx could hardly distinguish details.

Whatever this man was...it was clear he wasn't human. Yet...he wasn't a vampire, either. Demyx might not have been an expert at discerning vampiric presences, but was quite certain the aura the blue-haired man left in the air--a mingled presence of something light, like moonflowers, and something thicker and heavier, like musk--was not a vampire's. But what--?

"You wouldn't." Xaldin's words were cold, derisive. And it could be none other than Xaldin--the other man, with his muscular build, long dreadlocks, and oddly graceful manner of moving was immediately familiar to Demyx. He had moved to the door to intercept the other mid-path.

All right, so here was Xaldin and there was...a stranger who couldn't be vampire but couldn't be human either. And here was Demyx, tied to a chair in a dark room, and he had no idea where and just what the hell was going on...

"The Superior has the right to know," said the stranger, his tone flat but pointed. "Now out of my way. Unless you wish a confrontation...?"

"A 'confrontation' would be a waste," snorted Xaldin. "Although I suppose it would provide the Superior reason to dissolve this doubly unholy alliance..."

"An alliance between our kinds could never be 'holy' in the first place," said the blue-haired stranger, an odd hint of amusement entering his voice.

"Of course. That's why I said 'doubly unholy'."

By now, Demyx had tired of just pulling against his bonds in a pathetic effort to wriggle free--it was clear that the person who'd tied him to the chair knew what he'd been doing, since the ropes held steady no matter how Demyx twisted and turned. Any more turning would send Demyx clattering to the floor...and while that might draw the two...not-humans'...attention to him, he had the nasty suspicion that neither would help him back up. And as lying on the floor tied to a chair was even more uncomfortable than sitting up straight tied to a chair...Demyx elected not to struggle further.

But he had to get these two--these two inhuman creatures' to notice him. He needed to know what was happening...and felt they should know that he was awake. So, gathering in a deep breath, he managed:

"Hey."

Demyx was alarmed the instant the word exited his mouth. His voice sounded...horrible. Not his at all. Cracked and broken and hoarse, barely able to rise about a tremulous whisper. Well, he supposed days of unconsciousness would do something to his voice, but it still alarmed him--as a singer, he prided his voice above almost all else.

Still, his pathetic croaking had gotten Xaldin and the stranger's attention. They instantly whirled around in his direction, bearing identical surprised expressions. Demyx almost wanted to laugh at the sudden comedy of the situation, but that was just stupid...there was nothing funny about the situation at all. He was bound and at the mercy of a particularly sadistic vampire and...and someone who wasn't human, and most likely dangerous.

"Ah," said the blue-haired man, sounding bored. "Your pet is awake, Xaldin."

"I'm aware of that, Saix," growled Xaldin, taking a step in Demyx's direction. Saix. So that was the stranger's name...but Demyx still had no idea what the stranger even was!

"Er...uh..." Demyx coughed and cleared his throat. When he continued, to his relief, his voice was stronger, though still wavery and weak. "Um...hey. Hi. Um, what's up..."

He felt like an idiot even before he was finished speaking. What the hell was he doing, greeting two very dangerous beings--enemies--like they were just nightclub buddies? That was wrong. Just supremely wrong, in every way possible...

"He doesn't seem to be a very intelligent pet," said Saix, still sounding bored and apathetic, but a little derisive as well.

"I prefer them unintelligent," replied Xaldin, his voice sharp.

They just called you an idiot! raged an indignant part of Demyx's mind. But the rest of him accepted the judgment and moved on. After having lived with Axel for some ten years, Demyx's skin had toughened considerably.

"So...um...where exactly am I?" He sputtered the first question that popped into his head. And truth be told--he did want to know. All he knew was that he was in a small room with no lighting at all, bound to a chair. The floors and walls seemed to be cold, hard concrete, and the air was near freezing...which was bad since Demyx seemed to have lost his coat. He didn't feel the cold, though. He didn't feel much anything besides a dull numbness from having been bent in the same position for...hours, maybe. Days, even.

Saix and Xaldin stared, owl-eyed, at him for a moment. Demyx's heart sank as he realized they probably wouldn't answer...that they'd just brush aside his concerns like nothing because he was an unintelligent human, mere cattle, mere...meat.

Unbidden, a memory arose in Demyx's mind, a memory he fought against with all his heart and soul and his entire being. He did not want to remember--did not want to remember a slate-haired boy, a boy with dark eyes and a young face belying years of knowledge and torment...a boy who cast him bitter smiles and harsh judgment...a boy who'd stared in bewilderment as Demyx declared his feelings...a beautiful boy, a pale boy, a boy like a broken butterfly...

No. Not Zexion. Not him. Don't think about him. Don't...don't...don't...

After all, Zexion had rejected him not once--but twice. That one time, with the butterfly, with the harsh comments about inadvertant spells and human mindlessness, was bad enough, but something Demyx could recover from. He could pick up the broken pieces of his heart, even after that. But the second time...

That was worse. The time when Demyx had been clutched in a stranglehold by a powerful vampire, struggling for breath and stomach lurching as the earth swung far beneath him...the time when Demyx had been begging, soundlessly, for someone to save him--for Axel, for Roxas--for Zexion. And Zexion hadn't come.

That, Demyx figured, was tantamount to a rejection. And it was a rejection far worse--far more painful--than the first. He couldn't recover from that. Zexion hadn't just broken Demyx's heart--he'd taken the pieces and cast them to the farthest seas, had burned them and watched the smoke curl up to the distant stars, carrying Demyx's hopes, dreams, feelings...

Zexion had made his feelings clear. If only Demyx could accept that, and move on.

"He seems remarkably inquisitive." Saix's voice, as apathetic as ever, stabbed sharply into Demyx's painful remembrances like an arrow stabs a bulls-eye, clearing his head and dragging him back to the present. "As far as I'm concerned, that doesn't make for a very good toy."

"Your opinion means nothing," retorted Xaldin, his words acrid. "The toy will be amusing. I know that."

Demyx didn't like all this chatter about "toys". He was quite sure Saix and Xaldin weren't talking about just Christmas presents or the ilk. To once more turn their attention to his plight, he said, loudly, "So? Where am I?"

"You are tied to a chair," said Xaldin dryly. "And for now, that is all you need to know."

It took all of Demyx's willpower to keep himself from screaming at Xaldin in frustration. No way, he couldn't, Xaldin was a pureblood vampire and far more powerful than Demyx--but Demyx was angry. He wanted to fucking know and he didn't need Xaldin to talk down to him and play mind games...

But Saix, thankfully, swooped in before Demyx could completely lose control. "You are in the...temporary...headquarters of the Coven of Thirteen," said Saix, turning to cast Demyx an emotionless glance. Demyx, nonetheless, felt a shiver run down his spine when Saix's predatory golden eyes swept over him... "You have been kidnapped and placed into a side chamber."

"The...the 'Coven of Thirteen'?" said Demyx, confused. He wracked his brains for the name but nothing floated from his memory. Axel had never bothered teaching Demyx the major covens, so Demyx didn't know...

"My, my, you're quite ignorant for a vampire slayer, aren't you?" said Xaldin, chuckling in sadistic pleasure. "Although admittedly, the Superior has done an admirable job of--"

Saix spoke over Xaldin, cutting the vampire off mid-sentence. "He is a vampire slayer?"

"Why should that matter to you?" grumbled Xaldin, sounding disgruntled, but said, louder, to Saix, "Yes, he is. Although not a particularly strong one."

"Ah." A knowing look came over Saix's face. "He's but a human slayer...I see."

"Huh?" Demyx goggled at Saix, confused. That was the second time, he was sure, he'd heard himself being referred to as that. "Human slayer", as if it was unusual that a human should be a vampire slayer...but why wasn't it? All vampire slayers were human, weren't they...? What else could they be, if they weren't?

"But of course, he doesn't know," said Xaldin with another low chuckle. "I suspect it would be best if he remained ignorant, too."

"Ignorant...? Huh? What?" cried Demyx, even more confused than before. Neither Saix nor Xaldin graced him with an answer.

"Lamentable fool," said Saix, his judgment swift and emotionless. He turned to the door again, which Xaldin had abandoned, and eased it open. "He may remain ignorant--but the Superior will not. I'll bring this news to him."

"You will not," growled Xaldin, trying to step in Saix's way--but Saix had already exited the room. "Come back here...!"

"Why are you worried?" Saix's voice echoed somewhat, as if he was already somewhere in the distance. "Are you afraid the Superior will take your toy from you? Hardly, he'd probably see the toy as an intriguing experiment...a tool he can use..."

"You can never tell what the Superior is thinking," was Xaldin's growled reply, as he stepped out of the door as well to follow Saix. "He made me get rid of my last toy." At his last words, a sullen, almost petulant, note slipped into his voice, as if he was a child deprived his favorite plaything.

"That's because she was the daughter of a rich and influential human family. It would be bothersome if she disappeared." Saix's voice was growing more and more distant. "This toy, however, doesn't seem very important..."

"Nonetheless..." protested Xaldin, but Demyx could no longer hear the vampire's reply. He and Saix seemed to have rounded a corner or something, so that their voices could no longer be heard.

And this, Demyx realized with a jolt, left him alone. Alone, and in the same position he'd been in the beginning. Tied to a chair, numb and uncomfortable and aching and throbbing all over. And above all--

He was confused out of his mind. With a sigh, Demyx lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to sleep again, to slip back into that welcoming darkness...but of course he couldn't. How could he sleep, when not only was he bound and imprisoned...but bound and imprisoned in the middle of a coven of dangerous, bloodsucking vampires?

Sleep, clearly, was out of the question.


Ha ha ha...and a little bit of plot comes in. Who could this "Superior" be...?

Chapter next, "Betrayal" will feature some Demyx flashbacks and some...Axel/Demyx-ish scenes. Ha ha ha. Preview here:

He doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know anything, anymore--nothing but the gentle smile on Axel's face, but the beautiful light in the slayer's eyes. He doesn't know anything, he doesn't care. He just takes one step, then two, forward, until he's directly in front of Axel. Axel stares at him, looking a little bemused, but doesn't protest when Demyx lifts his hand to the side of Axel's face, leans in closer, and--

See? Axel/Demyx! And it is in present tense for a reason, in case you're wondering why I suddenly switched tenses.

Check out, also, a songfic project (involving Muse songs, because Muse is one of my favorite bands) that I've embarked on (though that will not distract me from Tainted, I swear). The link's on my profile.

Remember, read and review!