Author's notes: So. I...finally watched the first Subspecies. Silly movie. But fun. Cheesy effects...interesting make-up...still a better love story than Twilight. Anyway, short chapter today, but longer one tomorrow. They'll finally be back home. :)
Sam scratched at the side of his head, trying to dig a finger under the tightly-drawn blindfold only to feel a hand smack his away.
"None of that, little man. Can't let you see where this place is until you're good and ready. Don't want you leading others there, do we? Nah, course we don't."
"So...we're not just going for a walk on the beach, then?" Sam asked dryly. He hadn't felt any compulsions to kiss this douchebag's ass since he brought up the goldfish earlier, so he was thankfully in full control of what he was saying. Sam felt the car shift and swerve, as the terrain beneath the wheels of the Studebaker seemed to become rougher. What kind of shit-sucker drove a Studebaker? Seriously? If anything, when Sam had been practically forced out of the house, somehow managing to both avoid his mother and grandpa, seeing the beat-up old car 'Shane' seemed to be so overtly proud of made Sam a little bit less terrified.
Granted, he still wanted to scream and head for the hills the first opportunity he could, but maybe not quite as fast as he might have if the bloodsucker didn't even have a car. For a split second, he almost respected the dick-heads who chased his brother out of town. But then, of course, he remembered what it was like dealing with them...and comparing flying bloodsuckers who were apparently just about unkill-able to a...guy with rotten fish-blood and Sam couldn't even begin to imagine what other kind of differences, Shane paled in comparison.
Just when Sam felt like he'd had just about enough Aerosmith screeching in his ears from the radio, he took a deep breath, and decided he might as well try to make conversation. What did he have to lose, at this point? His dignity? Yeah, that went out the window the second he tried to make a cross out of toothbrushes and then ate a bunch of shit-blood crackers. "Soooo..."
The radio suddenly died down. "So? What? Got a few questions you wanna ask me?" The vampire sounded amused, though it was hard to tell. He really had a very flat voice. Hardly any inflection whatsoever.
"Well...like...you can't fly. And I seen some vampires before, around here. They could fly. What else is different about you? Can you handle daylight and all that? Running water? Stakes and stuff?"
There was a long pause. "You want me to tell you all of my weaknesses? Are you kidding me?"
"...It's not like I can do anything to you, can I?" Sam frowned, "Wait...can I?"
"Don't think so. Didn't get to hold onto my last slave long enough to find out. But don't even try, if you know what's good for you. You're lucky I decided to use you as my second guinea pig. Don't worry, though. It'll be good. I'll make sure you enjoy being a slave."
"...Slave? Really?"
"What would you prefer? I think it sums up your job pretty well. I command. You follow orders. I give you little lives. You do my bitch-work. Everyone wins." He laughed. "Well, maybe not the goldfish."
Sam sighed. He was going to figure out this guy's powers, one way or another. And he was going to find out how to kill him, even if it meant dragging Ed and Alan in on it, at the risk of them screwing shit up for him even more. He hadn't gotten another word out of grandpa yet, either, so who knew? Maybe he'd only have to deal with this shit-sucker and his gross snacks for one night.
"Oh, speaking of which..." Shane mumbled...and Sam felt a gold plastic bag fall into his lap, swishing slightly. With trembling hands, he grasped at it and felt for the seal around the top, fumbling as he tried to open it. The weird thing was, he could almost feel several tiny little hearts pumping beneath the plastic.
"Go on. Eat up. My treat..."
"Thanks!" Sam exclaimed, tearing the bag open until water splashed around his lap as he blindly reached for several tiny fish flapping at his legs. He quickly shoved them into his mouth and swallowed without even chewing. He was severely disgusted with himself. It didn't even taste good. What the fuck was wrong with him?!
"Easy there. Don't stain the seats, kid. I just washed them."
Sam didn't doubt what kind of stains the shit-sucker probably had to deal with, and decided not to ask.
"Hey, what's your name anyway? Clark?" Shane asked him, laughing. "Heard your friends yelling it back on the boardwalk."
Sam scowled. "I don't know what you're talking about. My name's Sam." Probably best to pretend he didn't even know the Frogs, though whether it was for their safety or his own, he wasn't quite sure. He just knew he'd have a better chance of getting through this by making sure his 'master' knew as little about Sam's personal life as possible. Thank god he didn't know about the vampire hunting escapade they'd had two years ago, or he'd probably be the bloodsucker's old leftovers by now.
Michael silently glared daggers at David, tearing at a piece of bluegrass until the seeds and greens were nothing but leafy confetti in his hands. Then he'd spread out his palm and watch them sprinkle to the ground before kneeling down and tearing up another stalk. It hadn't taken long after that little fuck session for his senses to come back to him, and he was even more enraged and disgusted than he'd been the last time. At least Star had been somewhat involved, for the final part of it, anyway.
"Mother fucker..." Michael mumbled under his breath, tearing up another stalk and continuing to glare at David, who very happily pulled a cigarette out of a soft pack in his coat pocket and slid it between his lips.
David shrugged, not even a little apologetic. Not that he would be. Soul-less, ass-raping...dick-face...Michael was really struggling not to lose his temper all over again, and it was dangling by a very thin thread. But the idea of a repeat of...whatever that had been...was enough to at least help him maintain some semblance of control, to the misfortune of the weeds about his feet. Unfortunately for them, their time had come. And if he lingered there too much longer, the whole field would be nothing but grass clippings. If David thought even for a second that Michael was going to put up with another round of...well...whatever the fuck they'd just done together...he had another thing coming. If it ever even came close to that again, the first thing he'd do was rip the bastard's dick off. Michael was confident he could at least manage that much.
The wind about them began to pick up, brushing against Michael's hair. Thankfully he'd be spared the embarrassment of being naked when the others arrived. He'd been allowed that much time to get dressed, and frankly, it had been the immediate first order of business once he'd regained his senses enough to realize he and David had most definitely gotten past second base. Tilting his head up to the sky, Michael watched the others descend towards them at a disturbingly fast pace. Stumbling out of their path, Michael pressed himself up against one of the trees, not relishing the idea of a dog-pile from some of the very people he wanted to see least in the world right now. Except Star...and she floated to the earth at a much slower rate, touching her feet to the ground long after the rest of them had decided to make David their target.
The girl rushed towards Michael, and he was only too happy to pull her into his arms and kiss a trail down her hair and to her shoulder, pushing her face back and staring into her eyes to reassure her (and himself) that everything was okay. He could only assume David had pulled the same thing on her the night before when they'd gone on their own hunting trip together, and if anything, it made Michael want to protect her even more. He wrapped his arms about her waist and glanced over Star's shoulder to watch David dislodge himself from the graceless heap of Paul, Marko, and Dwayne, who were only too happy to claw at his ankles and try to drag him back down to the ground.
"Get the fuck off of me!" David shouted, throwing Paul to the side and climbing to his knees to slash his claws across Marko's face.
"Dude! Not cool!" Marko shrieked, grabbing at his face and rubbing at the torn flesh tenderly. It was already beginning to mend, but clearly it still had to hurt like a son of a bitch.
Michael and Star remained silent, watching the fight with rapt attention, until finally Michael managed to tear his eyes away for just a moment to glance down at Star's neck while he pressed her head to the side. He saw a tiny scar there...two pinpricks covered by fading silver flesh. It seemed to confirm his suspicions, but he wouldn't bring it up. But he was officially twice as upset for her sake as his own. David was such a prick.
"Who do you think's going to win?" Michael whispered against Star's neck. She shrugged noncommittally.
"I think Paul's got a switchblade in his hand...so maybe-...oh. No...wait...Dwayne just threw him into the trees..." Star bit her lip. "David. Definitely David."
Neither of them realized they were placing bets, just like the others would if they were in the same situation. For better or worse, they'd get used to being pack. Eventually. They didn't have much choice, after all. And at least Michael could take comfort in the fact that his family was probably safe for now. As far as he could tell.