Note: There's some slightly graphic m/f sex in this chapter, so if that bugs you, skip it. Also, there's some slightly graphic allusions to rape, so consider yourself warned again.
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"Have I mentioned lately how bored I am?"
"Yes. Several times, in fact." Edge noisily turned a page in his book, looking up over the top of it to scowl across the room at his brother. "And if you tell me one more time, I'm probably going to murder you in some horribly painful way."
Christian threw his hands up in frustration and resumed his pacing. The past hour had been spent walking from one end of the hotel room to the other, finding very little along the way that could hold his interest for more than a few distracted moments. Edge, meanwhile, just sat on his bed, back against the headboard, reading some beaten up paperback that he'd found in the back seat of his car. He, bless his irritating heart, didn't seem remotely bored.
"Edge," Christian tried again, pushing his hair back from his face with one hand, "If I get any more bored, I think I'm gonna cry."
"Then go find something to do."
"Like what?"
"If you're literate, you're welcome to read one of my books."
Christian scowled and threw a pillow at Edge's head. "Useless bastard. Why did I agree to room with you again?"
Edge cooly moved the pillow aside and turned another page in his book, seemingly not in the least bothered. "You were afraid The Count from Sesame Street was going to drink your blood while you slept if you stayed with anyone else."
"...You know, I must've missed that little detail. Thanks for reminding me."
"No problem." He waved his book as Christian passed his bed for the thousandth time. "You wanna read this one? It's got porn in it."
Christian stopped in his tracks, interest caught. "Really?"
"Yeah. There's, like, a whole chapter sex scene with a werewolf and an alien." He made a sudden face, nose scrunching up tightly. "I think I remember why I tried to get rid of this thing in the first place."
"And you thought I'd be interested in it." Christian shook his head in faint amusement, then took a longing glance out the balcony window. "I wanna go out."
"We're related, man, and even while the Hardys might be doin' God knows what --"
"No, dork-o, I mean I wanna go *out*. You know, interact with humanity and all that."
Edge arched a brow and then buried his nose in his book again. "I'm sorry."
"Doesn't it bother you? I mean, all you do...you go to a show, wrestle, come back to your room, read, sleep, travel, do it all over again. It's driving me insane."
"You're not going out, Christian."
"Excuse me?"
Edge sighed heavily, creasing a page in the book and then tossing it beside him on the bed. He met Christian's eyes levelly, voice low and calm as if explaining something to a small child. "How long has it been since you were changed? About a month and a half, maybe? Two months? You're not ready to go out on your own."
"What, you scared I'm gonna get staked or something? 'Cause really, if Buffy comes up to me, I'm not gonna run."
"Chris..."
"Have you *seen* that little leather thing she wears sometimes?"
"Christian, no. You're not going out on your own. Absolutely not."
Christian folded his arms across his chest in stubborn, silent challenge. He'd never been one to surrender to authority, and he certainly wasn't about to begin now. "You wanna bet?"
"Okay, okay. I'll tell ya what. We'll flip for it. I win, you stay and rent a movie or something. You win, you go out and do whatever, but I want you back well before dawn. Got it?" Christian nodded, and Edge dug a quarter from his pocket and tossed it to his brother. "You flip. I'll call."
Christian grinned malevolently, shaking the coin a few times for good measure before flinging it up into the air.
"Heads!"
He bent over the quarter when it hit the carpet, hands on his knees.
Instantly, he grabbed his coat and hustled out the door. Edge shook his head and crawled down the bed to retrieve his quarter, eyes widening to see it had in fact landed on heads. "Hey!"
But Christian was by then long gone.
******
Generations have marveled about and searched for Atlantis, the lost continent swallowed by water and destined to forever be known as the civilization that never was. Those who believed in the mythical place, apparently, made the mistake of focusing their search in the Atlantic Ocean.
Christian found Atlantis in downtown Minneapolis.
True, it was turned into a trendy night club and had flourescent lighting everywhere, but he was starting to grow fond of the little place. The giant clam-shaped seats and overturned seashell booths were a nice touch, as were the scantily clad employees dressed like mermaids. The lamps with swirling plastic fish in the base sitting on every table were perhaps a bit much, but he was willing to overlook that.
So there he sat, nursing a half-empty bottle of beer and plucking at the label while silently taking in the crowd around him. For the most part, they seemed to all be relatively close to his age, and he was quite thankful for that. Forget Edge. Christian had every intention on turning up the charm and spending the rest of the night in some lovely lady's bed. That, or he'd drink himself into unconsciousness. Whatever happened first.
Unbeknownst to him, at the bar stood two women who had more than a passing interest in him.
"What do you think he's drinking?"
"Rachel, please. I thought we agreed no torturing the normals tonight."
"We did." The woman addressed smirked and jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate Christian sitting by himself in a secluded booth. "And I'm keeping my promise."
Her companion's eyes widened at the implication in her friend's words. "Is he...?"
"You've got eyes in your head, Gwenia. Look for yourself."
She did; she almost dropped her martini as well. "This is insane."
"It's a sign, if you ask me."
"Of what?"
Rachel shrugged her thin shoulders, tossing her hair -- dyed blond for the occasion tonight -- over her shoulder in exaggerated pride. "Of my sex appeal."
Gwenia snorted. "Right."
"Okay, l'il miss goth geek," Rachel teased, nudging her friend in the shoulder and pointing to the large silver rings standing out against the pale skin of Gwenia's hands, "just because you can't get a man..."
"I can too!"
"You could if he wasn't scared you'd sacrifice him or something."
Gwenia pouted, folding her arms over her chest, exposed moderately thanks to the tight black corset she wore. It matched her long black lace sleeves and tight black leather skirt, topped off by black combat boots and her naturally black hair. Rachel, never having been a fan of her friend's extreme dressing habits, went for something a little less likely to have her tagged as a threat to humanity and more of a threat to single men. Though she'd opted for simplicity in her outfit, Gwenia had to admit to herself that she had never seen a plain red halter top and a pair of faded blue jeans worked so well.
Rachel sneaked a glance over her shoulder, scowling when Christian turned and the light from an overhead lamp glinted off of something gold hanging around his neck. "Fuck me."
"I'm straight, Rachel, despite all claims to the contrary."
"No, look." Rachel pulled Gwenia in front of her and pointed. "He's one of Gangrel's brats."
Gwenia rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her drink. "Okay, that solves it. Let it go."
"Huh uh. No damn way am I gonna let this chance go."
"Chance?" Gwenia looked up at the taller girl, eyes narrowed. "Rachel? What're you--"
"I'm buying him a drink, Gwen. What's it look like I'm doing?"
"Rachel --"
"Gwen," Rachel mimicked in a whiny voice, rolling her eyes for effect. "Look, you've been on my ass all night, okay? Let me have a little fun with this one."
"I don't think . . ." Stopped by the sudden look she was given, Gwenia threw her hands in the air. "Fine. Whatever. But don't blame me when Gangrel hunts you down and rips your heart out through your ears. You know how protective he is of that stupid kid of his."
Ignoring her and making quite a point to do so, Rachel waited and watched as a short woman previously standing behind the bar carried a bloody mary over to Christian's table, then pointed their way. Christian turned a curious glance to them, waved shyly, and then gestured to the empty seat across from him. Rachel flashed a devilish grin, tugging Gwenia along with her and stopping at Christian's side.
"Hey, cutie."
Well, that was direct. Christian started to smile up at her, then paled immediately when he noticed an unearthly glow to her eyes, bright emerald green that reflected bits of silver throughout. He shot a startled look to the girl standing behind her, exhaling heavily to see her eyes were glowing several shades brighter than the real brown color they would otherwise have been.
"You're..."
"Yup," Rachel interrupted, inviting herself to sit in his lap and completely disregarding his surprised squeak. "And call me crazy, but I think you are, too." Unsure of what else to do, he gulped and nodded slowly. "Sweet."
Once he regained his ability to speak, he picked up his glass and sloshed the drink around restlessly. "Why...uh, how come there're two of you in the same place?"
"Two of us? Honey, are you already drunk?"
Christian blushed faintly. "No, no, I mean...two...you know..."
"Vampires?" She laughed at the innocent wide-eyed look she received. "Calm down. Even if anyone *did* overhear, they'd just think we were a bunch of loser kids who are too into role playing games. And if you must know, Gwen and I are friends. I'm Rachel, by the way."
"Christian."
"I like it," she announced, bending to nip at his earlobe and making him jerk involuntarily. "It just rolls right off the tongue. Wonder what it sounds like when it's screamed."
"Um...Rachel," Christian started, making an attempt to move her that was thwarted by her pinning his hands on her hips. He looked helplessly to Gwenia over Rachel's shoulder, but she wasn't looking. "Rachel, maybe we should...talk?"
"I don't wanna talk."
He whimpered when she ground into him while turning to catch his mouth in a deep kiss. He'd planned on talking his way into some lovely lady's bed, sure, but this hadn't exactly been what he'd had in mind. Which, of course, wasn't to say he was complaining. "Then what *do* you want?" He asked just as soon as his lips were free to move on their own. As something of an instant reflex, his tongue darted out and tasted strawberry lip gloss at the corners of his mouth, making him debate about whether or not he really wanted to get this woman out of the mood.
That didn't seem like much of a possibility, however, as she leaned forward and cupped his face, long nails scraping lightly along his jaws and their noses touching. "You really wanna know?" Unable to do anything but nod slightly, Christian waited silently for an answer. "I wanna fuck you."
And once again she was being incredibly forward.
"I...ah...I'm not used to being propositioned..."
"Shh," she scolded, putting a finger to his lips and stopping any protest building on his tongue. "I know what you're thinking, honey, and let me tell you right now that I'm not just some cheap whore who wants your money. What I want," she corrected, moving her hands down his neck and over the cotton fabric of his shirt, down his chest and stopping at the waistband of his jeans, "is you. Specifically, I want my legs wrapped around you and my hands in your hair, and I want to be screaming your name the rest of the night."
"That's it?"
"That's it. No strings, Christian, just you, me, and my bed. Have you ever made love to a vampire?"
"Not that I know of."
Rachel grinned, pulling his bottom lip into her mouth and chewing lightly before rising to her feet. "You're so cute." She readjusted her top, then looked down expectantly at a shell-shocked Christian. "So whaddya say? You wanna come back to my place with me or you wanna sit here with your drink and a fish lamp?"
After a moment's thought, Christian slid out of the booth and tossed a few bills on the table top, not bothering to count how much he'd thrown down. He didn't have time to anyway; Rachel slipped her hand in his and pulled him through the crowd to the door, down the sidewalk to an inconspicuous white sedan parked at the curb. Before getting into the front passenger's side, he noticed Gwenia staring at him as if longing to say something, but in the end she only shook her head and climbed into the backseat. He wasn't too concerned, though. Rather, all he could think about was Edge's insistence on reading his book while *he* was going to get laid by some horny blond bombshell.
Life was certainly beginning to take a turn for the better.
Since the woman was obviously not much for the art of conversation, Christian took to watching the various buildings pass by in a blur of lights. Some old Aerosmith song was playing from the radio, but he couldn't recall the name of it with so many other things pressing at the front of his mind. The trendy downtown city scenery gave way to the slightly less intriguing lure of typical urban dwellings, run down apartments and corner convenience stores. Before he really had a chance to focus on anything, the car came to a stop and Rachel was sliding the keys from the ignition.
"This is my humble abode," she pointed out with a flourish, hand waving across the street. Christian wordlessly followed along behind her, unnerved greatly by Gwenia's eyes fixed on him but refusing to let that show. Well, too badly. He was pretty sure she could see his fists clenching at his sides, but that was a detail.
After four flights of stairs, they stopped outside a blue door that looked impossibly similar to those around it, and no sooner had the door opened than Christian found himself being pulled inside the room by his shirt collar, then pressed against a wall and forced into a ravenous kiss. Something about Rachel, the way her eyes glimmered in that eerie light, the way she moved, her need, something about her kept him under her spell, unable to resist her. Not that he particularly wanted to fight her.
He groaned, head back as she began sucking lightly at the sensitive flesh over his Adam's apple, all the while running her hands from his shoulders down to his stomach, undoing the belt that held his too-large pants on his hips. No woman had taken complete control over him that way before, and he was really beginning to wonder why it pleased him so to finally find one that was willing to take charge. Then again, something told him that if he told her no, she'd probably kick his ass and take his wallet.
Pushing the thoughts back, he focused on returning her eagerness in kind, untying the knot at the back of her neck that held her shirt on and letting it drop to the floor. He bent, exploring the soft skin exposed to him and licking a thin trail along the tops of her breasts. Her back arched and she dug her nails into his scalp, walking backwards and taking him with her until they were in her bedroom and she fell back onto her bed, pulling him on top of her. She made quick work of removing his clothes, drawing him closer by wrapping her legs around his waist and being rewarded with a low moan when the move caused his hardened length to brush against her thighs. She snapped the waistband of his boxers, grinning impishly at the surprised look he gave her.
It didn't last long; he forgot about it and let his hands roam, eventually stopping at her hips and rocking lightly against her, perhaps in some twisted mockery of what was to come. She wrapped a hand through his hair and brought his head down to her neck, eyes closing in pleasure when she felt his tongue running along her throat.
"You ever fed from a vampire, sweetheart?"
He shook his head and looked up at her with eyes so trusting she almost backed down in their sincerity. But then, she reminded herself harshly, this *was* Gangrel's boy, and he was the enemy, regardless of how cute he may be. That being decided, she turned her head and gestured to her neck.
"Do it. You'll love it. It's . . . an experience."
Uneasily, he accepted the invitation and sank his teeth into her neck, vaguely aware of Gwenia nearby shouting at him to stop. He suddenly felt as though he'd been trapped underwater, listening to someone shout from the shore and trying desperately to make their words reach him. Images, memories that weren't his own flashed through his head in a lightning quick procession that left him reeling. Rachel was at some sort of burial for one of her own...her mate, Christian was informed from a source he couldn't pinpoint. Gangrel and a group of other men were looming over a man on the ground, with Gangrel holding a wooden stake black with blood.
Then, as suddenly as they came, the memories were gone, leaving him in blissful silence. That was until he heard the unmistakable sound of someone weeping and trying to hide it. A corridor of his mind opened and he felt himself tumbling down an endless shaft, spinning rapidly and out of control until he landed roughly in a bedroom. His childhood bedroom, he realized after a confused moment. He could hear Edge screaming in the room next to his, begging whoever was there with him to stop and leave him alone and...and...oh God, oh Jesus, no, it was happening again and soon his father would be in to see what he was crying about and he really needed to stop before that happened but he couldn't seem to be able to make his tears cease.
Gwenia wrapped her arms around Christian, pulling him off of Rachel and almost fuming with rage. "You stupid bitch! Are you *trying* to get Gangrel to kill us both?"
Rachel shrugged, biting her finger and healing the wound herself, then slipping into the floor beside Christian, tilting his chin up so that their eyes met. "It's his fault for not telling his own goddamned brats what to watch for and letting them outta the crib before they're ready." She smiled maliciously, delighted at how Christian was in hysterics, pulling at his hair and crying wildly. "Just for future reference, babe, never drink from another vampire. It really fucks with your head. Nasty side effects, insanity, all that." She patted him on the head, then rose to her feet and frowned down at him. "Too bad I didn't go ahead and wait, though. I bet you're a great lay."
******
"Ah'll raise ya two pretzels an' a Twizzler."
"Ah fold."
"Helluva poker face, Matty," Jeff cooed, grinning as Matt threw a Hershey kiss at his head. "Hey, now, you're never gonna win if ya keep throwin' y'chips everywhere."
Edge shook his head in amusement, trying to figure out when exactly he and the Hardys had gone from intense enemies to poker playing friends. Soon after Christian left, the two showed up outside his door, arms loaded with junk food and Matt with a deck of cards in his mouth, for lack of some other means of transportation.
"We're bored," Jeff had explained in his typical straightforward way, pushing into the room and dropping his food on the floor, then clearing out a spot to sit down. "So we decided to come play poker with ya. Thanks for invitin' us."
And, being the cheap kids that they were, they were playing for food. Of course, Edge reasoned to himself, the way Matt ate sometimes, that was probably more valuable to him than cash ever would be.
He'd tried his best to ignore them and finish reading his book, but combined with the fact it was going into another detailed sexual encounter with the werewolf and alien, the allure of the two brothers broke him down. Digging out the secret stash of candy he carried with him at all times, he chipped in and bought his way into the game with a fun size Milky Way bar.
At that precise moment, he was looking through the wet bar in hopes of finding something strong enough to kill the headache forming in his head. Just as he managed to find something that didn't sound too alcoholic and get it into a glass, a dull pain akin to a sharp splinter announced its presence. It steadily increased until the pressure was unbearable, and blinding lights pulsed behind his eyes. He cried out suddenly, dropping his glass and shattering it on the floor, succeeding only in receiving two pairs of stunned eyes fixed on him. Memories he'd fought to block for longer than he could remember bubbled to the surface, pouring over into his consciousness and turning him into little more than a mass of trembling bones on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth and trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Thoughts -- not his -- were at every corner of his mind, fighting their way in and mixing with his own, thoughts he quickly recognized as Christian's. Wherever he was, whatever was happening, he was scared out of his mind and silently pleading for anyone to hear and help him.
Much as he wanted to, he couldn't get past the feeling of invisible hands pinning his hips to the mattress, a phantom pain from years gone by new and fresh, searing and tearing him apart from the inside out. Tears slipped warm and rapidly down his cheeks, mimicking the trails the blood made down his fist from where he bit his knuckles to keep from crying out; that never helped, and it only ever made things worse. Finally the pain became too much and he screamed, an ear-splitting sound from somewhere deep in his gut that ended abruptly when his head was shoved into his pillow. His heaving sobs made it impossible to get any air at all, and after a moment stars danced in his vision and he prayed for death to come swiftly and take him from this hellish nightmare. Then there was air, and he found himself back in the alley, in the snow, against a chain-link fence without anywhere to go, without anyone to call to for help. His jacket did little to shield against the cold, but he was burning up anyway. He was shaking, his entire body ached, and he knew that this night would be his last. That was when he saw a dark figure round the corner and start down the alley, and for a brief, agonizing moment, he thought it was a dealer he'd ripped off at some point come to make his death that much more humiliating and meaningless. Instead, he caught a glimpse of a pale demon speaking the words of an angel.
Then, all at once, he was aware of his surroundings again. He was still in his hotel room, years after all of that, and looking through his tears to see Matt and Jeff both watching him worriedly. They were discussing something but he couldn't understand what they were saying, thanks to the voices replaying themselves over and over again in his head, louder and louder until he wanted to crawl back into himself and die just to keep them away. Without warning, Jeff took off for the door at a sprint, but Edge used what strength he could to grab his ankle and catch him unaware, sending him sprawling to the floor.
"No," he ordered through clenched teeth, ignoring the cuts he'd opened in his face by unknowingly clawing at it with his hands moments earlier. "C-Call..."
Before he could go on, Matt was clutching the phone and poised to dial. Edge tried to grin in gratitude, but a wave of sorrow overcame him before he could. He closed his eyes to regain his bearings, then rattled off a series of numbers before losing his calm and launching into another screaming fit, burying his face in his knees and sobbing into them.
"H-Hello?" Matt asked the person on the other end of the line. "Yeah, um...Shit. Ah don't even know what t'say. Um...Who is this?"
"Who is this?"
"Matt Hardy. Ah'm one of Edge's friends."
"I know. He talks about you. What can I do for you? And if he wants to chit-chat, tell him to go screw off because I'm replacing the bathtub right this moment--"
"He's lost it. Ah...Ah dunno what's goin' on, but he just went nuts all of a sudden. He keeps screamin' somethin' about somethin' or other in his head and we -- me an' Jeff -- we can't get him to calm down. We were gonna go try to get a doctor but he wouldn't let us, and he told me to call this number and now he's out of it again and --"
"Breathe, Matt. You won't do him any good at all if you hyperventilate on him." Matt nodded, scrubbing a helpless hand through his hair and casting another worried glance in his friend's direction. "Where are you?"
"Minneapolis. We-we're stayin' in the Marriot. Room two-thirty-six."
"Wonderful. Thank you, Matt. I'll be there within the hour."
The line went dead, and Matt dropped the phone carelessly into its cradle. The only other thing he knew to do was try to keep the three of them from all going completely insane.
Almost forty minutes later, the door flew open and Gangrel stepped into the room, looking haggard and more than a little angry. "Stupid desk clerks. How hard is it for them to believe that I might just be here for a visit and I'd rather not hear about their great room rates?" He shook his head, taking in the scene around him. Candy was strewn everywhere across the floor, Jeff sat on the bed with his head in his hands, and still by the wet bar were Edge and Matt. Edge was trembling and crying, face pressed against Matt's chest as the other man whispered comforting words into his hair. He knelt beside them, looking first to Edge, then to Matt. "Has he changed at all?"
"Huh uh. If you don't mind me askin', what the hell's goin' on here?"
Gangrel waved his hand and motioned towards the door. "I'll explain later. For now, you'll have to leave us."
"No way!" Jeff cried, jumping to his feet indignantly. "How do we know you're not the one who caused this in the first place?"
Gangrel turned irritated eyes up to Jeff, blackening with every second that passed. "You and your brother would be doing me a great service if you left now. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to snap both your necks to shut you up. This boy's life is more important to me than both yours. I need to talk to him, and he's not going to be able to do that while you're distracting him. Now, if you'd like to take your chances with me, then by all means, stay."
Jeff blinked, but wasn't given a chance to reply before Matt dragged him bodily out the door, shutting it quietly behind them.
Turning back to Edge, Gangrel clasped his shoulders and squeezed until he finally looked up. "I let you out of my sight for a few weeks and look what happens. Edge, lad, can you tell me what happened? I know you don't know exactly what it was, but try."
Edge drew in a shuddering breath. "I-I don't know. I was fine one second and then the next I just...I don't know. I felt all these-these old memories and fears and everything again, and now all I can feel is Christian's emotions. He's...whatever's happening, he's terrified of something. It's like he's lost in his own mind or something, I-I don't know how to explain it."
"Your bond is making it worse," Gangrel explained softly, brushing a few bits of hair away from Edge's tear-dampened cheeks. "Your own fear is fueling his and vice-versa, so for both your sakes you're going to have to try to calm down. Understand?" Edge nodded wearily, dropping his head back against the wooden bottom of the bar and letting his eyes drift closed. "Good. Now. Because the bond between you both is still strong, I need you to locate him. Can you do that for me, Edge?"
Edge tried to do as he was told, reaching out across a plane no mortal would ever know, seeking his brother but coming back with a forceful wave of despair and horror. His tears came harder, faster, and his breath quickened to gasps. "Oh Jesus, Grel, he...I can't get through to him. I can't...I can't..."
"Dammit, Edge, you have to concentrate!"
"I can't!" Edge snapped back, eyes flying open to show two desperate green eyes lost in a swirling haze of confusion and hopelessness. "Why don't *you* do it? You're the calm one here!"
"Because," Gangrel started in a voice low enough to convey his patience was slipping. "You have not yet broken your blood bond with him, so you're the only one who can give an exact location. The best I could do would probably be to find what city he's in."
Edge nodded again, shivering but forcing himself to fight back against the terrified wave of emotions. "I-I think I have him. I can't tell where he is, but he's close. He's...He's on a floor...he's a mess. He's crying and-and shaking and..." He trailed off, shaking his head and refusing to go on with that particular line of thought. "It looks like an apartment. There's two women there. One of 'em's looking in a mirror. She's a blonde. She's -- wait, she's turning her head. She's got...bite marks..." His eyes flew open again, and he was more than surprised to see Gangrel's were was wide as his own. "Gangrel..."
"You told him never to feed from another vampire, didn't you? Edge, oh God, please tell me you told him . . ."
"I never thought about it! I-I..."
Gangrel dropped his head into his hands. This was going to be a long, terrible night.
------------
"Have I mentioned lately how bored I am?"
"Yes. Several times, in fact." Edge noisily turned a page in his book, looking up over the top of it to scowl across the room at his brother. "And if you tell me one more time, I'm probably going to murder you in some horribly painful way."
Christian threw his hands up in frustration and resumed his pacing. The past hour had been spent walking from one end of the hotel room to the other, finding very little along the way that could hold his interest for more than a few distracted moments. Edge, meanwhile, just sat on his bed, back against the headboard, reading some beaten up paperback that he'd found in the back seat of his car. He, bless his irritating heart, didn't seem remotely bored.
"Edge," Christian tried again, pushing his hair back from his face with one hand, "If I get any more bored, I think I'm gonna cry."
"Then go find something to do."
"Like what?"
"If you're literate, you're welcome to read one of my books."
Christian scowled and threw a pillow at Edge's head. "Useless bastard. Why did I agree to room with you again?"
Edge cooly moved the pillow aside and turned another page in his book, seemingly not in the least bothered. "You were afraid The Count from Sesame Street was going to drink your blood while you slept if you stayed with anyone else."
"...You know, I must've missed that little detail. Thanks for reminding me."
"No problem." He waved his book as Christian passed his bed for the thousandth time. "You wanna read this one? It's got porn in it."
Christian stopped in his tracks, interest caught. "Really?"
"Yeah. There's, like, a whole chapter sex scene with a werewolf and an alien." He made a sudden face, nose scrunching up tightly. "I think I remember why I tried to get rid of this thing in the first place."
"And you thought I'd be interested in it." Christian shook his head in faint amusement, then took a longing glance out the balcony window. "I wanna go out."
"We're related, man, and even while the Hardys might be doin' God knows what --"
"No, dork-o, I mean I wanna go *out*. You know, interact with humanity and all that."
Edge arched a brow and then buried his nose in his book again. "I'm sorry."
"Doesn't it bother you? I mean, all you do...you go to a show, wrestle, come back to your room, read, sleep, travel, do it all over again. It's driving me insane."
"You're not going out, Christian."
"Excuse me?"
Edge sighed heavily, creasing a page in the book and then tossing it beside him on the bed. He met Christian's eyes levelly, voice low and calm as if explaining something to a small child. "How long has it been since you were changed? About a month and a half, maybe? Two months? You're not ready to go out on your own."
"What, you scared I'm gonna get staked or something? 'Cause really, if Buffy comes up to me, I'm not gonna run."
"Chris..."
"Have you *seen* that little leather thing she wears sometimes?"
"Christian, no. You're not going out on your own. Absolutely not."
Christian folded his arms across his chest in stubborn, silent challenge. He'd never been one to surrender to authority, and he certainly wasn't about to begin now. "You wanna bet?"
"Okay, okay. I'll tell ya what. We'll flip for it. I win, you stay and rent a movie or something. You win, you go out and do whatever, but I want you back well before dawn. Got it?" Christian nodded, and Edge dug a quarter from his pocket and tossed it to his brother. "You flip. I'll call."
Christian grinned malevolently, shaking the coin a few times for good measure before flinging it up into the air.
"Heads!"
He bent over the quarter when it hit the carpet, hands on his knees.
Instantly, he grabbed his coat and hustled out the door. Edge shook his head and crawled down the bed to retrieve his quarter, eyes widening to see it had in fact landed on heads. "Hey!"
But Christian was by then long gone.
******
Generations have marveled about and searched for Atlantis, the lost continent swallowed by water and destined to forever be known as the civilization that never was. Those who believed in the mythical place, apparently, made the mistake of focusing their search in the Atlantic Ocean.
Christian found Atlantis in downtown Minneapolis.
True, it was turned into a trendy night club and had flourescent lighting everywhere, but he was starting to grow fond of the little place. The giant clam-shaped seats and overturned seashell booths were a nice touch, as were the scantily clad employees dressed like mermaids. The lamps with swirling plastic fish in the base sitting on every table were perhaps a bit much, but he was willing to overlook that.
So there he sat, nursing a half-empty bottle of beer and plucking at the label while silently taking in the crowd around him. For the most part, they seemed to all be relatively close to his age, and he was quite thankful for that. Forget Edge. Christian had every intention on turning up the charm and spending the rest of the night in some lovely lady's bed. That, or he'd drink himself into unconsciousness. Whatever happened first.
Unbeknownst to him, at the bar stood two women who had more than a passing interest in him.
"What do you think he's drinking?"
"Rachel, please. I thought we agreed no torturing the normals tonight."
"We did." The woman addressed smirked and jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate Christian sitting by himself in a secluded booth. "And I'm keeping my promise."
Her companion's eyes widened at the implication in her friend's words. "Is he...?"
"You've got eyes in your head, Gwenia. Look for yourself."
She did; she almost dropped her martini as well. "This is insane."
"It's a sign, if you ask me."
"Of what?"
Rachel shrugged her thin shoulders, tossing her hair -- dyed blond for the occasion tonight -- over her shoulder in exaggerated pride. "Of my sex appeal."
Gwenia snorted. "Right."
"Okay, l'il miss goth geek," Rachel teased, nudging her friend in the shoulder and pointing to the large silver rings standing out against the pale skin of Gwenia's hands, "just because you can't get a man..."
"I can too!"
"You could if he wasn't scared you'd sacrifice him or something."
Gwenia pouted, folding her arms over her chest, exposed moderately thanks to the tight black corset she wore. It matched her long black lace sleeves and tight black leather skirt, topped off by black combat boots and her naturally black hair. Rachel, never having been a fan of her friend's extreme dressing habits, went for something a little less likely to have her tagged as a threat to humanity and more of a threat to single men. Though she'd opted for simplicity in her outfit, Gwenia had to admit to herself that she had never seen a plain red halter top and a pair of faded blue jeans worked so well.
Rachel sneaked a glance over her shoulder, scowling when Christian turned and the light from an overhead lamp glinted off of something gold hanging around his neck. "Fuck me."
"I'm straight, Rachel, despite all claims to the contrary."
"No, look." Rachel pulled Gwenia in front of her and pointed. "He's one of Gangrel's brats."
Gwenia rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her drink. "Okay, that solves it. Let it go."
"Huh uh. No damn way am I gonna let this chance go."
"Chance?" Gwenia looked up at the taller girl, eyes narrowed. "Rachel? What're you--"
"I'm buying him a drink, Gwen. What's it look like I'm doing?"
"Rachel --"
"Gwen," Rachel mimicked in a whiny voice, rolling her eyes for effect. "Look, you've been on my ass all night, okay? Let me have a little fun with this one."
"I don't think . . ." Stopped by the sudden look she was given, Gwenia threw her hands in the air. "Fine. Whatever. But don't blame me when Gangrel hunts you down and rips your heart out through your ears. You know how protective he is of that stupid kid of his."
Ignoring her and making quite a point to do so, Rachel waited and watched as a short woman previously standing behind the bar carried a bloody mary over to Christian's table, then pointed their way. Christian turned a curious glance to them, waved shyly, and then gestured to the empty seat across from him. Rachel flashed a devilish grin, tugging Gwenia along with her and stopping at Christian's side.
"Hey, cutie."
Well, that was direct. Christian started to smile up at her, then paled immediately when he noticed an unearthly glow to her eyes, bright emerald green that reflected bits of silver throughout. He shot a startled look to the girl standing behind her, exhaling heavily to see her eyes were glowing several shades brighter than the real brown color they would otherwise have been.
"You're..."
"Yup," Rachel interrupted, inviting herself to sit in his lap and completely disregarding his surprised squeak. "And call me crazy, but I think you are, too." Unsure of what else to do, he gulped and nodded slowly. "Sweet."
Once he regained his ability to speak, he picked up his glass and sloshed the drink around restlessly. "Why...uh, how come there're two of you in the same place?"
"Two of us? Honey, are you already drunk?"
Christian blushed faintly. "No, no, I mean...two...you know..."
"Vampires?" She laughed at the innocent wide-eyed look she received. "Calm down. Even if anyone *did* overhear, they'd just think we were a bunch of loser kids who are too into role playing games. And if you must know, Gwen and I are friends. I'm Rachel, by the way."
"Christian."
"I like it," she announced, bending to nip at his earlobe and making him jerk involuntarily. "It just rolls right off the tongue. Wonder what it sounds like when it's screamed."
"Um...Rachel," Christian started, making an attempt to move her that was thwarted by her pinning his hands on her hips. He looked helplessly to Gwenia over Rachel's shoulder, but she wasn't looking. "Rachel, maybe we should...talk?"
"I don't wanna talk."
He whimpered when she ground into him while turning to catch his mouth in a deep kiss. He'd planned on talking his way into some lovely lady's bed, sure, but this hadn't exactly been what he'd had in mind. Which, of course, wasn't to say he was complaining. "Then what *do* you want?" He asked just as soon as his lips were free to move on their own. As something of an instant reflex, his tongue darted out and tasted strawberry lip gloss at the corners of his mouth, making him debate about whether or not he really wanted to get this woman out of the mood.
That didn't seem like much of a possibility, however, as she leaned forward and cupped his face, long nails scraping lightly along his jaws and their noses touching. "You really wanna know?" Unable to do anything but nod slightly, Christian waited silently for an answer. "I wanna fuck you."
And once again she was being incredibly forward.
"I...ah...I'm not used to being propositioned..."
"Shh," she scolded, putting a finger to his lips and stopping any protest building on his tongue. "I know what you're thinking, honey, and let me tell you right now that I'm not just some cheap whore who wants your money. What I want," she corrected, moving her hands down his neck and over the cotton fabric of his shirt, down his chest and stopping at the waistband of his jeans, "is you. Specifically, I want my legs wrapped around you and my hands in your hair, and I want to be screaming your name the rest of the night."
"That's it?"
"That's it. No strings, Christian, just you, me, and my bed. Have you ever made love to a vampire?"
"Not that I know of."
Rachel grinned, pulling his bottom lip into her mouth and chewing lightly before rising to her feet. "You're so cute." She readjusted her top, then looked down expectantly at a shell-shocked Christian. "So whaddya say? You wanna come back to my place with me or you wanna sit here with your drink and a fish lamp?"
After a moment's thought, Christian slid out of the booth and tossed a few bills on the table top, not bothering to count how much he'd thrown down. He didn't have time to anyway; Rachel slipped her hand in his and pulled him through the crowd to the door, down the sidewalk to an inconspicuous white sedan parked at the curb. Before getting into the front passenger's side, he noticed Gwenia staring at him as if longing to say something, but in the end she only shook her head and climbed into the backseat. He wasn't too concerned, though. Rather, all he could think about was Edge's insistence on reading his book while *he* was going to get laid by some horny blond bombshell.
Life was certainly beginning to take a turn for the better.
Since the woman was obviously not much for the art of conversation, Christian took to watching the various buildings pass by in a blur of lights. Some old Aerosmith song was playing from the radio, but he couldn't recall the name of it with so many other things pressing at the front of his mind. The trendy downtown city scenery gave way to the slightly less intriguing lure of typical urban dwellings, run down apartments and corner convenience stores. Before he really had a chance to focus on anything, the car came to a stop and Rachel was sliding the keys from the ignition.
"This is my humble abode," she pointed out with a flourish, hand waving across the street. Christian wordlessly followed along behind her, unnerved greatly by Gwenia's eyes fixed on him but refusing to let that show. Well, too badly. He was pretty sure she could see his fists clenching at his sides, but that was a detail.
After four flights of stairs, they stopped outside a blue door that looked impossibly similar to those around it, and no sooner had the door opened than Christian found himself being pulled inside the room by his shirt collar, then pressed against a wall and forced into a ravenous kiss. Something about Rachel, the way her eyes glimmered in that eerie light, the way she moved, her need, something about her kept him under her spell, unable to resist her. Not that he particularly wanted to fight her.
He groaned, head back as she began sucking lightly at the sensitive flesh over his Adam's apple, all the while running her hands from his shoulders down to his stomach, undoing the belt that held his too-large pants on his hips. No woman had taken complete control over him that way before, and he was really beginning to wonder why it pleased him so to finally find one that was willing to take charge. Then again, something told him that if he told her no, she'd probably kick his ass and take his wallet.
Pushing the thoughts back, he focused on returning her eagerness in kind, untying the knot at the back of her neck that held her shirt on and letting it drop to the floor. He bent, exploring the soft skin exposed to him and licking a thin trail along the tops of her breasts. Her back arched and she dug her nails into his scalp, walking backwards and taking him with her until they were in her bedroom and she fell back onto her bed, pulling him on top of her. She made quick work of removing his clothes, drawing him closer by wrapping her legs around his waist and being rewarded with a low moan when the move caused his hardened length to brush against her thighs. She snapped the waistband of his boxers, grinning impishly at the surprised look he gave her.
It didn't last long; he forgot about it and let his hands roam, eventually stopping at her hips and rocking lightly against her, perhaps in some twisted mockery of what was to come. She wrapped a hand through his hair and brought his head down to her neck, eyes closing in pleasure when she felt his tongue running along her throat.
"You ever fed from a vampire, sweetheart?"
He shook his head and looked up at her with eyes so trusting she almost backed down in their sincerity. But then, she reminded herself harshly, this *was* Gangrel's boy, and he was the enemy, regardless of how cute he may be. That being decided, she turned her head and gestured to her neck.
"Do it. You'll love it. It's . . . an experience."
Uneasily, he accepted the invitation and sank his teeth into her neck, vaguely aware of Gwenia nearby shouting at him to stop. He suddenly felt as though he'd been trapped underwater, listening to someone shout from the shore and trying desperately to make their words reach him. Images, memories that weren't his own flashed through his head in a lightning quick procession that left him reeling. Rachel was at some sort of burial for one of her own...her mate, Christian was informed from a source he couldn't pinpoint. Gangrel and a group of other men were looming over a man on the ground, with Gangrel holding a wooden stake black with blood.
Then, as suddenly as they came, the memories were gone, leaving him in blissful silence. That was until he heard the unmistakable sound of someone weeping and trying to hide it. A corridor of his mind opened and he felt himself tumbling down an endless shaft, spinning rapidly and out of control until he landed roughly in a bedroom. His childhood bedroom, he realized after a confused moment. He could hear Edge screaming in the room next to his, begging whoever was there with him to stop and leave him alone and...and...oh God, oh Jesus, no, it was happening again and soon his father would be in to see what he was crying about and he really needed to stop before that happened but he couldn't seem to be able to make his tears cease.
Gwenia wrapped her arms around Christian, pulling him off of Rachel and almost fuming with rage. "You stupid bitch! Are you *trying* to get Gangrel to kill us both?"
Rachel shrugged, biting her finger and healing the wound herself, then slipping into the floor beside Christian, tilting his chin up so that their eyes met. "It's his fault for not telling his own goddamned brats what to watch for and letting them outta the crib before they're ready." She smiled maliciously, delighted at how Christian was in hysterics, pulling at his hair and crying wildly. "Just for future reference, babe, never drink from another vampire. It really fucks with your head. Nasty side effects, insanity, all that." She patted him on the head, then rose to her feet and frowned down at him. "Too bad I didn't go ahead and wait, though. I bet you're a great lay."
******
"Ah'll raise ya two pretzels an' a Twizzler."
"Ah fold."
"Helluva poker face, Matty," Jeff cooed, grinning as Matt threw a Hershey kiss at his head. "Hey, now, you're never gonna win if ya keep throwin' y'chips everywhere."
Edge shook his head in amusement, trying to figure out when exactly he and the Hardys had gone from intense enemies to poker playing friends. Soon after Christian left, the two showed up outside his door, arms loaded with junk food and Matt with a deck of cards in his mouth, for lack of some other means of transportation.
"We're bored," Jeff had explained in his typical straightforward way, pushing into the room and dropping his food on the floor, then clearing out a spot to sit down. "So we decided to come play poker with ya. Thanks for invitin' us."
And, being the cheap kids that they were, they were playing for food. Of course, Edge reasoned to himself, the way Matt ate sometimes, that was probably more valuable to him than cash ever would be.
He'd tried his best to ignore them and finish reading his book, but combined with the fact it was going into another detailed sexual encounter with the werewolf and alien, the allure of the two brothers broke him down. Digging out the secret stash of candy he carried with him at all times, he chipped in and bought his way into the game with a fun size Milky Way bar.
At that precise moment, he was looking through the wet bar in hopes of finding something strong enough to kill the headache forming in his head. Just as he managed to find something that didn't sound too alcoholic and get it into a glass, a dull pain akin to a sharp splinter announced its presence. It steadily increased until the pressure was unbearable, and blinding lights pulsed behind his eyes. He cried out suddenly, dropping his glass and shattering it on the floor, succeeding only in receiving two pairs of stunned eyes fixed on him. Memories he'd fought to block for longer than he could remember bubbled to the surface, pouring over into his consciousness and turning him into little more than a mass of trembling bones on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth and trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Thoughts -- not his -- were at every corner of his mind, fighting their way in and mixing with his own, thoughts he quickly recognized as Christian's. Wherever he was, whatever was happening, he was scared out of his mind and silently pleading for anyone to hear and help him.
Much as he wanted to, he couldn't get past the feeling of invisible hands pinning his hips to the mattress, a phantom pain from years gone by new and fresh, searing and tearing him apart from the inside out. Tears slipped warm and rapidly down his cheeks, mimicking the trails the blood made down his fist from where he bit his knuckles to keep from crying out; that never helped, and it only ever made things worse. Finally the pain became too much and he screamed, an ear-splitting sound from somewhere deep in his gut that ended abruptly when his head was shoved into his pillow. His heaving sobs made it impossible to get any air at all, and after a moment stars danced in his vision and he prayed for death to come swiftly and take him from this hellish nightmare. Then there was air, and he found himself back in the alley, in the snow, against a chain-link fence without anywhere to go, without anyone to call to for help. His jacket did little to shield against the cold, but he was burning up anyway. He was shaking, his entire body ached, and he knew that this night would be his last. That was when he saw a dark figure round the corner and start down the alley, and for a brief, agonizing moment, he thought it was a dealer he'd ripped off at some point come to make his death that much more humiliating and meaningless. Instead, he caught a glimpse of a pale demon speaking the words of an angel.
Then, all at once, he was aware of his surroundings again. He was still in his hotel room, years after all of that, and looking through his tears to see Matt and Jeff both watching him worriedly. They were discussing something but he couldn't understand what they were saying, thanks to the voices replaying themselves over and over again in his head, louder and louder until he wanted to crawl back into himself and die just to keep them away. Without warning, Jeff took off for the door at a sprint, but Edge used what strength he could to grab his ankle and catch him unaware, sending him sprawling to the floor.
"No," he ordered through clenched teeth, ignoring the cuts he'd opened in his face by unknowingly clawing at it with his hands moments earlier. "C-Call..."
Before he could go on, Matt was clutching the phone and poised to dial. Edge tried to grin in gratitude, but a wave of sorrow overcame him before he could. He closed his eyes to regain his bearings, then rattled off a series of numbers before losing his calm and launching into another screaming fit, burying his face in his knees and sobbing into them.
"H-Hello?" Matt asked the person on the other end of the line. "Yeah, um...Shit. Ah don't even know what t'say. Um...Who is this?"
"Who is this?"
"Matt Hardy. Ah'm one of Edge's friends."
"I know. He talks about you. What can I do for you? And if he wants to chit-chat, tell him to go screw off because I'm replacing the bathtub right this moment--"
"He's lost it. Ah...Ah dunno what's goin' on, but he just went nuts all of a sudden. He keeps screamin' somethin' about somethin' or other in his head and we -- me an' Jeff -- we can't get him to calm down. We were gonna go try to get a doctor but he wouldn't let us, and he told me to call this number and now he's out of it again and --"
"Breathe, Matt. You won't do him any good at all if you hyperventilate on him." Matt nodded, scrubbing a helpless hand through his hair and casting another worried glance in his friend's direction. "Where are you?"
"Minneapolis. We-we're stayin' in the Marriot. Room two-thirty-six."
"Wonderful. Thank you, Matt. I'll be there within the hour."
The line went dead, and Matt dropped the phone carelessly into its cradle. The only other thing he knew to do was try to keep the three of them from all going completely insane.
Almost forty minutes later, the door flew open and Gangrel stepped into the room, looking haggard and more than a little angry. "Stupid desk clerks. How hard is it for them to believe that I might just be here for a visit and I'd rather not hear about their great room rates?" He shook his head, taking in the scene around him. Candy was strewn everywhere across the floor, Jeff sat on the bed with his head in his hands, and still by the wet bar were Edge and Matt. Edge was trembling and crying, face pressed against Matt's chest as the other man whispered comforting words into his hair. He knelt beside them, looking first to Edge, then to Matt. "Has he changed at all?"
"Huh uh. If you don't mind me askin', what the hell's goin' on here?"
Gangrel waved his hand and motioned towards the door. "I'll explain later. For now, you'll have to leave us."
"No way!" Jeff cried, jumping to his feet indignantly. "How do we know you're not the one who caused this in the first place?"
Gangrel turned irritated eyes up to Jeff, blackening with every second that passed. "You and your brother would be doing me a great service if you left now. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to snap both your necks to shut you up. This boy's life is more important to me than both yours. I need to talk to him, and he's not going to be able to do that while you're distracting him. Now, if you'd like to take your chances with me, then by all means, stay."
Jeff blinked, but wasn't given a chance to reply before Matt dragged him bodily out the door, shutting it quietly behind them.
Turning back to Edge, Gangrel clasped his shoulders and squeezed until he finally looked up. "I let you out of my sight for a few weeks and look what happens. Edge, lad, can you tell me what happened? I know you don't know exactly what it was, but try."
Edge drew in a shuddering breath. "I-I don't know. I was fine one second and then the next I just...I don't know. I felt all these-these old memories and fears and everything again, and now all I can feel is Christian's emotions. He's...whatever's happening, he's terrified of something. It's like he's lost in his own mind or something, I-I don't know how to explain it."
"Your bond is making it worse," Gangrel explained softly, brushing a few bits of hair away from Edge's tear-dampened cheeks. "Your own fear is fueling his and vice-versa, so for both your sakes you're going to have to try to calm down. Understand?" Edge nodded wearily, dropping his head back against the wooden bottom of the bar and letting his eyes drift closed. "Good. Now. Because the bond between you both is still strong, I need you to locate him. Can you do that for me, Edge?"
Edge tried to do as he was told, reaching out across a plane no mortal would ever know, seeking his brother but coming back with a forceful wave of despair and horror. His tears came harder, faster, and his breath quickened to gasps. "Oh Jesus, Grel, he...I can't get through to him. I can't...I can't..."
"Dammit, Edge, you have to concentrate!"
"I can't!" Edge snapped back, eyes flying open to show two desperate green eyes lost in a swirling haze of confusion and hopelessness. "Why don't *you* do it? You're the calm one here!"
"Because," Gangrel started in a voice low enough to convey his patience was slipping. "You have not yet broken your blood bond with him, so you're the only one who can give an exact location. The best I could do would probably be to find what city he's in."
Edge nodded again, shivering but forcing himself to fight back against the terrified wave of emotions. "I-I think I have him. I can't tell where he is, but he's close. He's...He's on a floor...he's a mess. He's crying and-and shaking and..." He trailed off, shaking his head and refusing to go on with that particular line of thought. "It looks like an apartment. There's two women there. One of 'em's looking in a mirror. She's a blonde. She's -- wait, she's turning her head. She's got...bite marks..." His eyes flew open again, and he was more than surprised to see Gangrel's were was wide as his own. "Gangrel..."
"You told him never to feed from another vampire, didn't you? Edge, oh God, please tell me you told him . . ."
"I never thought about it! I-I..."
Gangrel dropped his head into his hands. This was going to be a long, terrible night.