Thank you to all the fabulous, and fabulously patient wonders of you who reviewed last time round - I know I'm not the promptest poster ever. Thanks to:

Danel, Night Goddess, Amber, Mandy, Domz, Midnight Haze, Queen Kat, Stacy, Meg, Magelet, Eleyne, Leopardess, Kendal, Pyro Angel, Lotty and the ever-wonderful Me.

The lyrics for this part come from the exquisite Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls (Album: Dizzy Up The Girl).

Chimera Part Thirteen

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies.
When everything feels like the movies, yeah,
You bleed just to know you're alive.

The dream burst onto her like being thrown forwards into a photograph; everything was sharply cut, every line seemed to be a weapon and every shadow a pit.

Her feet ached more dreadfully than before, and this time, there were no fevered thoughts of the night, but a roiling fear that began as a knot and expanded outward from her stomach, curling through her veins.

Flash.

Green light, flickering in her vision.

But I know what's going to happen, a voice stammered, I can stop it, I must be able to stop it-

But however her mind raged, her body moved in the same motions as before, yet this time her eyes saw wolves pounce. Searing pain exploded across her skin and she was on her back again beneath the wolf, with its jaws open and slavering. Her one wild thought was; Blue, this is where Blue will arrive-

How odd that her knight should be her blight.

But this time, no, this treacherous time, he didn't. She was powerless as the jaws closed about her throat and tore-

She woke from the nightmare with a half-stifled cry, and found herself in a strangely dark room, her mind cowering and befuddled. Blue's house, she told herself, Blue's house, they wouldn't come here.

Something moved in the corner of her eye - was that a flash of green? Oh no, please no. She huddled deeper under the blanket, drawing her knees up to her stomach and prayed it was her imagination-

It had moved again, it wasn't...

Her mind was screaming now. Like a child, she peeked out from her fingers, paralysed by dread. And a curious anger began in her, anger at herself for being so stupid. Logic told her nothing was here; instinct whispered something might be.

The thump of a door; bright light dazzled her. Logic flooded back with the light.

"You are keeping me awake," Blue informed her flatly, from where he was standing in a pair of black shorts and a narrow-eyed glare. One arm leaned along the doorframe, and his head rested in the crook of that arm, bright cobalt against stark white. The gentle light softened his face and bent in golden lines on the flat planes of his torso, twisting into curves around that long scar. "If you must have a panic attack, make it the silent and deadly kind."

She gaped at him, and though her voice shook, she couldn't tell if it was fear or anger. "You insensitive..."

"Oh, utterly," he agreed, and smothered a yawn with the back of his hand. "I can assure you, there are no wolves in here."

Part of her knew that. But the other part remembered the feel of those teeth, and the blunt sting of those claws. And there were so many ways into this room, doors and windows, and-

Would you be quiet? he demanded, and his telepathic voice was as shocking as a firecracker going off. His eyes were half-open, showing only a smudged navy gleam through his lashes, but she had the feeling he was still watching her and still alert.

"You try," she flung at him, hating her tremulous voice. "Why don't you pretend you're not invincible and invulnerable - why don't you pretend someone's nailed you up to that wall again and this time Cougar won't come and cut you down!"

His mouth curled, and she thought for an awful moment that she had hit his one weakness. "Oh please," he said instead. "Don't tell me that stung your pity! Don't you have any comprehension of who I am, Chatoya Irkil? Don't you know better yet?"

"Children are children," she said stubbornly. "No one should have done that to you."

"And you're still a child if you honestly believe that, still stuck in those ridiculous ideas of good and evil. I told you already, the world will eat you alive if you don't watch out, and it won't stop to ask whether you've been naughty or nice."

She couldn't help but look at her cuts and bruises. "I know," she said. "And if you think I'm still a child, then you don't know me either."

"Perhaps," was all his answer.

There was a long silence, but oddly, it wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't comfortable either, but somewhere between, a silence that needed filling only to take away the memories that hung upon the air like ghosts. Eventually, she rubbed at her tired eyes. How strange that he had washed away her fear, replacing it with that fierce and angry focus she always needed dealing with him.

And then he said coolly, "If it will make the proverbial cat leap upon your tongue, and I'm not referring to that moronic shapeshifter friend of yours, you may sleep in my room."

"With you?" she squeaked, all thoughts of wolves driven out of her head. "I wouldn't even-"

A withering sigh. "You may have looked less uninviting than usual tonight, but really, do you honestly think I feel an urge to merge? Open wounds are not an aphrodisiac, even for me." He yawned, and straightened. "And witch of mine, you certainly need the beauty sleep. Anyone looking at you would think you'd had a chronic case of insomnia for the last eighteen years."

She eyed him suspiciously, discarding the insult that she barely felt, so long accustomed to his smooth swift spite. "You won't come in."

The corners of his mouth turned up slowly. His voice positively sizzled. "Only on invitation."

"I wouldn't invite you in if a horde of cannibals were waiting for me," she muttered bluntly. "Besides, you find me desperately unattractive, remember?"

One brow inched up slowly. "Did I say that? I think not. You're not at all pretty, witch of mine, but that doesn't stop you being attractive." His chuckle rolled across her ears, and made a tingle spiral out from her spine. "You certainly have the magic touch."

"I what?"

No, shouldn't have asked, she thought. He's dangerous when he's like this. I can cope when he's cruel, and I can handle him being cold, but when he's playing...

"Though maybe you should learn to apply it to yourself," he mused, the first sign that he had even noticed her injuries. "Speaking from experience, you look like someone's tortured you with a cheese-grater."

She didn't say anything. Her magic was gone, emptied into that wolf, but no way was Chatoya going to let him know she had one less thing to fight him with.

But somehow, beneath his steady and severe observation - she knew he knew

"I'll...try and get some sleep," she muttered.

Chatoya stood up, gasping as her ankle threatened to buckle and her cuts stretched with the flexing of her muscles. How stupid, how utterly stupid to feel secure when Blue was in a room. Between the devil and the deep blue sea, she wasn't sure if she was burning or drowning.

As she hobbled past his bland, unconcerned stare, his hand snapped out and closed over the teeth-marks in her arms. She nearly choked trying not to react; the touch sent acid-burn heat up her arm, mingled with the feathery, intrusive sense of his thoughts, only half-awake but dipping into her mind as almost a reflex. Her fingers tried to prise his away, but Blue could have been iron for all the effect she had.

It's nice to see you have no plans to kill me for once, he remarked, and dug one nail into her cut until her eyes watered. Keep it that way.

"You behave, I'll behave." She enunciated each word slowly. He always had the power to make her furious, to drive away all other emotion until there was only a helpless anger.

"Intriguing proposition." He stepped back, watching her with something between triumph and curiosity. "Stay angry, Chatoya Irkil. If you aren't afraid, we might both get some sleep."

As she shut the door with a pointed snap, confused by his words, he had already flicked the light off.

The bed was comfortable, at least, and still warm from the heat of his body. Moonlight came through the window above the bed, hugging her body like a silver sheet. There were no curtains, and she prayed that perhaps this small bit of light would keep away the nightmares as she settled, trying to find some way to lie that hurt as little as possible.

She pushed away the thought that moonlight was a wolf's religion.

Goddess protect me, she prayed as the sweet and welcome drowsiness crept over her. Keep away the memory. You're the only one who will.

X - X - X - X - X

The girl was a pathetic bundle at his feet. Her hair was dark but somehow, not dark enough. And her eyes were a pretty shade of periwinkle blue, but they had seemed too bright.

Still, her blood had packed a very welcome punch.

Cougar Redfern ran his tongue over his teeth, and stared at her pale face without any feeling except the sorrow that boiled under his skin. Her veins were a tracery of blue under her near-translucent skin. He shouldn't have drunk so much.

He couldn't have stopped if he had tried.

The thought would have stung normally, but with her blood clouding his thoughts into a scarlet miasma, he didn't care. Why stop? Why not give in? Who said what was wrong and right but, but vermin like these?

"Vermin," he snarled softly, and resisted the urge to kick the girl. Some part of him still felt uneasy about that. "Stupid goddamn vermin. Blue had it right."

"First time I've heard that in a while."

He froze. The voice cut through the fog like hail, the tone different, but the sounds themselves exactly the same. Still so ordinary, so uncommon. Only its kindness had made it warm and unique before, but that was long fled.

She stepped from the shadows like a leopard revealing its camouflage, and smiled.

Her hair was different, no longer rich and brown but a nondescript sandy colour, and her face was older, but the bone structure was the same, though without the vivacity she had always had, it dulled into insipidity. Yet looking at her, he saw between time, four years into his past.

Then, her skin had been puffy and bruised, her arm broken in two places, a body cradled in her lap, more human than she had ever been or ever would be again.

"Hello Cougar," she said simply, and her eyes were pits in the night, making her smile a mockery and her words a farce.

The knot in his throat hurt, and he swallowed, at last able to answer. "Sandrine?"

X - X - X - X - X

The dreadful darkness coiled in on her again, images of teeth flashing above and her absolute powerlessness as claws scraped along her skin, down to her heart-

She woke screaming in terror, eyes white in the ivory-shot light, arms threshing.

There was a figure above her, oh gods, they had come for her, they truly had, it was reaching down for her-

Cool fingertips brushed her forehead.

The contact sent sparks jolting along her body, driving her into another mind for a moment, the one she knew so well with its icy cold core, swathed in the fierce love of killing.

She fell back, staring up at a face she knew like her own as Blue moved into the moonlight.

"You don't have to scream," he commented serenely, winding a tendril of her hair around his finger. "If you want my presence that badly, heartfelt begging will do."

She thrust his arm away hard and again, was launched into his mind like being thrown into a lake in winter. Cracking ice, the dash of frozen water, the glazed sparkling splendour of it.

"That's better," he remarked, not even flinching. He turned to go, and she was struck by a sudden cold fear, fear of being left alone, knowing the wolves would return for her because she was their prey and they had marked her.

But she didn't say anything. She didn't let him know. What was the point? What would he care?

He had stopped still, head tilted to one side as if listening.

"Does this mean you're just going to wake up screaming again?" he said, the mesmerising voice mild. "I would like some sleep."

Chatoya froze. Stop him seeing my thoughts, she thought frantically. This isn't fair, isn't it enough that we both know I owe him?

But she was still shivering, still feeling the desperately quick patter of her heart against her chest, the clammy knot in her stomach.

"You can go," she told him, keeping her voice low so it wouldn't shake.

"You're lying." He turned back, eyes pinning her. "And you can't even do that well."

"Go," she said tiredly. "Sharing a bed with you is not my idea of a good time."

She saw his mouth quirk. "You know, that would have been painful if I cared in the slightest."

He strolled out, shutting the door behind him. She lay in the dark, eyes shut so she wouldn't see the shadows that seemed to swirl and flicker in the corners of her vision.

She fell back slowly into shadowy dreams, dreams that seemed to deepen and become more solid...

Chatoya looked down and saw she was walking down a rocky road, faltering in her high heels and long dress. No, she thought. No, not again!

But the loneliness and the chill of this empty night beat down on her as she slipped and stumbled down the path. She knew what would happen even as she felt her fear paralysing her, slowing her steps. For the wolves would be waiting for her in the shadows; there would always be wolves, waiting to tear her down.

She turned to go back, and they were there, glints of green in the moth-like wings of the gloom. She could smell the hot, meaty stink of their breaths and hear their rolling growls.

Backing away, she lurched as her heel sank into a hole, hands brushing the chill tickling air.

And they leapt-

As she was flung from the depths of the nightmare, her screams filled the air again, high and full-throated, tearing at the dark like the dream ripped at her, and she had her hands clutched to her face, unable to open her eyes and confront the horror she was sure would be there...

Warmth ringed her suddenly; her hands were prised from her face with a touch that was sure and subtle, and she collapsed into Blue because even he was better than the darkness, clinging to his shoulders.

"You're quite the flatterer tonight," his amused voice said. "I'm glad I rate above being ripped to shreds."

She pushed him away almost at once, unaware of how haunted her eyes were, how her fear shuddered in them. He didn't let her go.

"I'm staying," he informed her before she could open her mouth to tell him to go away. "I would like some sleep. If it was anyone else I'd knock you out, but that's going to knock me out as well and leave us both with the headache from near-hell tomorrow, the headache from hell being my older brother."

She stared at him. "No chance."

"Witch of mine," he said coolly, "you're shaking."

He was right, and she tried to get herself under control. "I-"

"-am fed up of being woken by you shrieking your head off," he cut in. "Three times is enough. You can at least be screaming in my presence."

"Arrogant bastard," she muttered.

"I'm a vampire. It goes with the territory."

She opened her mouth to argue but he just stared back with those unreadable, winter-filled eyes and she had to look away. She couldn't outstare the monstrosity there. No one mortal could.

"You don't try anything," she said, avoiding staring at his face. She was aware of how close they were, and it made her very uneasy.

"My dear, I don't try. I succeed," he purred softly, the malice edging every word. "However, in deference to your maidenly modesty and ability to give me some rather nasty scorch-marks when your power returns...you have my word I will lay nary a finger or a fang on you."

She didn't trust him an inch, but he had put those formidable mental spiked shields up again, and she had no choice but to take him at his word. Probably, she thought grimly, her nightmares would intensify now.

He yawned, and stretching lazily as a cat, lay down, pulling her down to his side. "If you keep me awake, unless it's in a very interesting way," he drawled, "I will personally deliver you to those yapping wolves."

"It's not something I have any control over," she snapped, aware of how very wrong this was. He was a warm mass along her side, lying on his back with one hand thrown carelessly behind his head, eyes shut, his eyelashes frosted by moonlight.

And silently, in the veiled and shrouded depths of her head where even her worst fears were coated with cobwebs and daubed with dust, she spoke the truth.

I am alone against a nightmare I cannot fight.

Yet this is no dream: only my life.

"I did gather that. Either that, or you've chosen an extremely inconvenient time to perfect your banshee impression." She froze as she felt a touch, impersonal and deft that pulled her closer to him.

"What are you doing?" she said, and could hear the first shrillness in her voice, like fingernails scraping over a blackboard.

"Offering comfort."

The answer was so extraordinary, and so obviously a blatant lie that she had no words for a moment.

"I don't want your comfort," she said proudly, but found she couldn't unravel herself from his grip that seemed to block her without applying any pressure, a cage made from gossamer. "Stop it!"

She was almost crying, and out of the fear rose shame, hotly red and opening like a thornéd flower in her chest.

"Hush," he said, and the gentleness surprised her as he shifted onto his side, and pulled her closer, making himself a shelter that she couldn't escape from. There was the fear, and there was Blue and she wasn't sure if they were one and the same. "Stop fighting for the sake of fighting. If I choose to hurt you, whether you are two inches away or two miles will make no difference."

His touch was no longer impersonal, but demanding something of her, but she didn't know what. Edging her closer until she was huddled in the warmth of his body.

Oh, you're so beautiful, she thought.

The moonlight seemed to caress his face, to have fallen under his spell as hopelessly as so many must have, and paint him with silver elegance. It cut the world into black and white, but there were only shadows between them.

You're so beautiful, but I know what you are.

"Why not this time?" she said bitterly, unmoving in this strange embrace. "Don't tell me the monster feels sympathy."

"The monster feels nothing," he answered, thrusting his face close to hers. Not merely close, but so close their lips touched, and his breath danced with ant's feet on her mouth. Beyond civility, and beyond arrogance and into that place where emotions were only hot coals that they braved and were burnt by. "The boy that became the monster remembers being hunted, and he remembers how the wolves' teeth hurt, and he remembers how much he wished for someone to comfort him. He learned otherwise in the end, but the monster still remembers him."

She was silenced.

You should kiss me now, she thought. That's how it works. You're supposed to be so angry that it melts and twists itself into passion.

"That boy had no one," he said abruptly, and drew back a little. "The monster will scare away the nightmares for a night, and be someone."

"I'm - sorry." She tried to look at his face, but couldn't. She wanted to see hurt, to see rage, to see anything but the stillness.

"I'm not," he said coolly. "The monster runs from no one."

"Maybe...there's just a tiny, remote, infinitesimal possibility that..." she wavered. "I was...wrong."

He lay back, staring at the ceiling with tranquil, empty eyes and she thought he would reject her, release her, but instead he simply pulled her to his side until her head lay on his shoulder and she was pressed up warm against him. She was all too aware of the weight of his arm, keeping her there.

"No," he murmured. Cast in silver by the distant moon, and outcast in hatred by his own blood. "You were right. I am a monster. Why do you think it's such a vile word? It's only terrible when you don't accept it."

"Why accept it?" she asked. She didn't dare look at his face, for fear of what she might - or might not - see, but closed her eyes.

Strange how when you took away one sense, the others became so much more potent.

"Why reject it? I don't care what anyone else thinks. They don't matter. They're nothing to me. They hardly exist."

"Then what matters to you?" she whispered, startled by this glimpse into his thoughts, this ray of light into an underwater cavern.

The answer was Blue. It said nothing at all, and yet clearly meant something she couldn't quite grasp.

"Sensation," he said. "I live to feel alive. That's all."

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he put a finger to her lips.

Sensation...

The mouth was so incredibly sensitive, and the touch, despite its harmless nature, so profound, that she fell silent. It reminded her too much of that bloodkiss, that touch that had been yet more intimate and not at all harmless, and reminded her that words could be coated in sugar.

Some poisons were nectar in your throat. But your heart would cease to beat all the same.

"Sleep," he told her. And much to her surprise, she did.

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am.