"God help me, God help me, God help me..."
Despite his quiet chanting, the steadily growing cold ball of dread in the pit of his stomach told Christian that God likely had nothing to do with his current predicament.
He was barely aware of movement off to his left, and try as he might to lift his head to get a better look, he was just too weary to accomplish something that would require so much effort. That being the case, he let his eyes drift shut and focused on the cool floor tiling beneath his cheek, letting it lull him into the closest thing to security that he'd felt in hours.
When he opened his eyes again, he was shocked to find that at some point he'd been moved off the floor and into a huge room elaborately furnished with heavy velvet drapes and antique furniture arranged against the walls. Some woman -- Rachel, he remembered after a puzzled moment -- was brushing her hair, not at all concerned with her awakened guest. Christian used that to his advantage and summoned all the strength he thought he could gather, launching himself off the bed and barreling into Rachel's back, sending them both tumbling to the floor. She cried out and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking hard enough to pull several strands loose. Too enraged to care, he wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed. His attempt to strangle her might have been successful had she not brought her knees up beneath him and then kicked him off. He grabbed onto the bedpost at the foot of the bed, wheezing and grasping his chest even though his mind subconsciously told him he had no need to breathe anymore.
"Stupid brat," Rachel seethed, rubbing her neck and glaring at Christian. "Stupid, helpless, *weak* brat," she continued angrily, eyes narrowed. "You can't even attack someone the right way."
"Why...are you doing this?"
Before she could answer, the window directly behind her shattered and a shower of tiny glass shards rained into the room, followed directly by the unlikely Batman and Robin combination in Gangrel and Edge. Blinded by a sudden, intense rage, Edge attacked Rachel and tackled her much the same way his brother had just done, while Gangrel made his way over to Christian and pulled him to his feet, then began pushing him towards the door that Christian didn't remember seeing before.
"We have to leave now, little one," he pointed out needlessly, opening the door for Christian and gesturing out into the hallway. "Go on."
"But --"
An ear-splitting scream rang out, and Christian turned just in time to see Edge fall first to his knees, then completely to the floor, a splintered, broken piece of wood jutting out from his chest. He tried vainly to grasp it and pull it out, but Rachel standing over him, smiling and kicking it further into his body, was more than he could stand.
"No!" Christian screamed, making a desperate attempt to dive back into the fray and somehow save his brother. Gangrel held him back, essentially dragging him out the door and down the hallway, the stairs, another hallway, not stopping until they reached the outside of the building. Christian was by then in hysterics, demanding to go back and get Edge, to see to it that Rachel paid for her actions, babbling about anything that came to mind. All Gangrel did was sit and stare up at the broken window, mumbling something that Christian couldn't quite hear.
Blinking once, then twice, Christian looked through blurry eyes, surprised to find that he was still in the apartment. Nothing had been broken, and he was still on the floor; the only thing that had changed, it seemed, was that his head was now in someone's lap, and after a moment he noticed long black nails raking through his hair, stroking gently.
"Well, sleeping beauty's up," Rachel commented dryly from her spot in a chair directly across from Christian. She grinned, wiggled her fingers at him, and took another drink from the can of diet Pepsi in her hand. She studied him closely for a few tense seconds, then slid out of the chair and into the floor in front of him. "I was just wondering what you think about when you're out of it."
"Rachel," Christian heard another voice plead with a tired tone, "leave him alone. You've made your point."
"No, I don't think I have," Rachel corrected sharply, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Christian's hair, yanking his head up harshly enough to make him cry out in startled pain. "You wanna hear a little story, sweetheart?"
Christian tried to make his mouth work, tried to tell her he wanted very little to do with her *and* her story, but for whatever reason he couldn't quite seem to get his words to come out. That left him unable to express himself, and left Rachel free to assume he had no objections to her narrating for him.
"Well, once upon a time there was a prince and his princess. That princess, by the way, was yours truly. The prince was a guy who didn't exactly like playing by the rules, but he didn't hurt anyone because of his ... rebellious nature, not really. But the mean higher-ups of the kingdom decided that he was too dangerous, too much of a 'risk' to keep around. They tried to break him." Her voice cracked, forcing her to stop and take a deep breath before continuing. "So they took everything he had away from him. And then, finally, when they couldn't take anything else, they took his life and left his princess alone. One day, years and years later, the princess goes to a sleazy bar and sees someone very closely connected to the person mostly responsible for killing her prince, and the chance to kick him around is just too good to pass up."
"Rachel, stop it."
"Fuck off, Gwen, I'm having fun." She sneered cruelly, leaning forward and letting her breath fall in hot waves across Christian's face. "Your precious Gangrel killed my mate just because they didn't see things exactly the same way. I will *never* forgive him for that. Ever. You know why, Chrissy?" Christian flinched at the name but remained quiet. "Because I am one seriously pissed off princess."
She rose to her feet and stalked off out of view, out of the bedroom and, judging from the sounds following, into the kitchen. Christian allowed his eyes to drift shut again, praying for nothing more than sleep to claim him, but something wet and smooth was suddenly pressed to his lips.
"Drink," Gwenia urged, tilting the glass in her hand up slightly. Christian reluctantly drew in a tiny sip of the liquid, recognized it was water, and thirstily accepted the offering. The glass was downed rapidly before he dropped his head back down into Gwenia's waiting lap. She hesitated for a brief instant before continuing to thread her nails through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in hopes of calming his vicious trembling.
"I'm gonna get you outta here," she whispered, barely audible. "I don't know how yet, but I'm gonna try. Rachel's lost it, and I really don't need or want Gangrel beating me into the next few centuries for this." She paused, snorting to herself when she realized that Christian was probably so far out of it he couldn't understand a thing she said anyway.
Before she could go on Rachel walked back into the room, carrying a duffel bag with her and tossing it onto the end of her bed. She caught Gwenia staring curiously at her and shrugged, offering no other explanation as she began throwing various articles of clothing into the bag.
"Gangrel's gonna kill us," Gwenia pointed out quietly, desperately hoping she could force some sense into her friend. Rachel, however, just shook her head.
"No he's not. He has to find us first."
Gwenia rolled her eyes. "Like that's gonna take him so long. You have any idea how much more powerful than us he is? How do you intend on ..." She trailed off, cursing inwardly when Rachel pulled her car keys from her pocket and dangled them noisily from the end of her finger. "Rachel --"
"Get your stuff together. You, me, and our guest are going on a road trip."
******
"Why can't I sense him? Goddammit, I wanna know why I can't fucking feel him!"
Kick. Kick, kick, punch to the dashboard. Kick again.
Gangrel sighed and leaned down slightly, just enough to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. "Edge, lad, I understand you're upset, and I can sympathize with you, but if you don't stop trying to kill the car I'm going to have to tie you to your seat. It's a rental."
"I don't care if it's a fucking rental!" Edge shrieked, kicking the floorboard for good measure. "I wanna know why I can't get through to my own fucking brother!"
"When did you get such a colorful vocabulary?" Gangrel asked more to himself than anyone. He turned his attention to the windshield, looking out disinterestedly as people scurried through the parking lot to avoid the rain. The past several minutes had been spent in McDonald's parking lot, Gangrel drinking a cup of coffee and trying to kill the headache he was getting because Edge was quickly losing what little patience he had, both with himself and the world in general.
They'd been traveling all around Minneapolis, it seemed, since late the previous night, using Edge's bond with his brother as something of a honing device. So far, the only thing they'd managed to accomplish was getting frustrated with each other and driving in circles.
"Edge," Gangrel tried again, finishing his coffee and then setting the styrofoam in the cup holder built into the armrest, "you have to remember what he's going through right now. Like I said before, your fear is feeding off of his and the other way around, so the more anxious and agitated you get, the more it effects him. So if you wouldn't mind me being blunt for a second, please shut up and pull yourself back together. When you're sane and not so utterly annoying, we'll try looking again."
Edge blinked at Gangrel, unconsciously bared a pair of sharp fangs that reflected in Gangrel's dark sunglasses, but kept his comments to himself. Instead of starting another argument, he leaned back in his seat and rubbed at his eyes. Being for all intents and purposes as dead as a man in his grave, he'd discovered long ago he really had no need to sleep anymore, but he'd gotten into a habit of sleeping at night and taking short naps through the day. Given it had been nearly two days since the last time he'd been able to get a decent amount of sleep, his nerves were shot and it was obviously beginning to show. He'd been practically biting Gangrel's head off the entire morning, save for unpredictable bouts of anguished sobbing.
He knew he had to stay calm, both for his sake and his brother's, but every time he thought he had himself under control Christian's emotions would suddenly and very forcefully present themselves in a wave of confused terror that crushed around Edge's mind to the point he couldn't ignore Christian's frightened misery. At times he would break down into helpless tears, and then at others go into a fit of rage that often manifested itself in the form of beating anything in sight.
Then, of course, there was the added pressure of not being able to feel his brother's presence as he knew he should have been. It was the not knowing, the worrying about exactly what could cause that block between them, that was twisting Edge's already frazzled nerves into cruel mockeries of their former selves. Unfortunately, he had done nothing but take out those frustrations on Gangrel, who was quickly growing tired of the treatment.
"Okay."
Gangrel arched his eyebrows, staring uncertainly at his companion. "Okay what? Are you ready to calm down and act like a partially stable adult again?"
Pointedly ignoring the remark, Edge folded his hands in his lap to keep from ripping something apart, then simply nodded. "Yes. Now go. They're moving."
"Moving where?"
"How the hell should I know? I'm not a fucking honing pidgeon!" Edge snapped irritably, shaking his head in slight disgust and causing hair to fall down into his face, hair he made no effort to move.
"I'm tempted to stick a bar of soap in your mouth, boy."
"And I'm tempted to stick my foot up your ass, now drive. Left. And go a little faster while you're at it, would ya? My grandma could drive faster than this."
"I'm a little busy trying to keep from ripping your heart out through your nostrils, Edge. I need my patience in one piece and dealing with rush hour metropolitan traffic is not going to make me any friendlier, now sit over there and shut your blasted mouth unless you have something helpful to contribute to our little treasure hunt."
Edge fell silent and took to staring out the window.
Despite his quiet chanting, the steadily growing cold ball of dread in the pit of his stomach told Christian that God likely had nothing to do with his current predicament.
He was barely aware of movement off to his left, and try as he might to lift his head to get a better look, he was just too weary to accomplish something that would require so much effort. That being the case, he let his eyes drift shut and focused on the cool floor tiling beneath his cheek, letting it lull him into the closest thing to security that he'd felt in hours.
When he opened his eyes again, he was shocked to find that at some point he'd been moved off the floor and into a huge room elaborately furnished with heavy velvet drapes and antique furniture arranged against the walls. Some woman -- Rachel, he remembered after a puzzled moment -- was brushing her hair, not at all concerned with her awakened guest. Christian used that to his advantage and summoned all the strength he thought he could gather, launching himself off the bed and barreling into Rachel's back, sending them both tumbling to the floor. She cried out and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking hard enough to pull several strands loose. Too enraged to care, he wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed. His attempt to strangle her might have been successful had she not brought her knees up beneath him and then kicked him off. He grabbed onto the bedpost at the foot of the bed, wheezing and grasping his chest even though his mind subconsciously told him he had no need to breathe anymore.
"Stupid brat," Rachel seethed, rubbing her neck and glaring at Christian. "Stupid, helpless, *weak* brat," she continued angrily, eyes narrowed. "You can't even attack someone the right way."
"Why...are you doing this?"
Before she could answer, the window directly behind her shattered and a shower of tiny glass shards rained into the room, followed directly by the unlikely Batman and Robin combination in Gangrel and Edge. Blinded by a sudden, intense rage, Edge attacked Rachel and tackled her much the same way his brother had just done, while Gangrel made his way over to Christian and pulled him to his feet, then began pushing him towards the door that Christian didn't remember seeing before.
"We have to leave now, little one," he pointed out needlessly, opening the door for Christian and gesturing out into the hallway. "Go on."
"But --"
An ear-splitting scream rang out, and Christian turned just in time to see Edge fall first to his knees, then completely to the floor, a splintered, broken piece of wood jutting out from his chest. He tried vainly to grasp it and pull it out, but Rachel standing over him, smiling and kicking it further into his body, was more than he could stand.
"No!" Christian screamed, making a desperate attempt to dive back into the fray and somehow save his brother. Gangrel held him back, essentially dragging him out the door and down the hallway, the stairs, another hallway, not stopping until they reached the outside of the building. Christian was by then in hysterics, demanding to go back and get Edge, to see to it that Rachel paid for her actions, babbling about anything that came to mind. All Gangrel did was sit and stare up at the broken window, mumbling something that Christian couldn't quite hear.
Blinking once, then twice, Christian looked through blurry eyes, surprised to find that he was still in the apartment. Nothing had been broken, and he was still on the floor; the only thing that had changed, it seemed, was that his head was now in someone's lap, and after a moment he noticed long black nails raking through his hair, stroking gently.
"Well, sleeping beauty's up," Rachel commented dryly from her spot in a chair directly across from Christian. She grinned, wiggled her fingers at him, and took another drink from the can of diet Pepsi in her hand. She studied him closely for a few tense seconds, then slid out of the chair and into the floor in front of him. "I was just wondering what you think about when you're out of it."
"Rachel," Christian heard another voice plead with a tired tone, "leave him alone. You've made your point."
"No, I don't think I have," Rachel corrected sharply, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Christian's hair, yanking his head up harshly enough to make him cry out in startled pain. "You wanna hear a little story, sweetheart?"
Christian tried to make his mouth work, tried to tell her he wanted very little to do with her *and* her story, but for whatever reason he couldn't quite seem to get his words to come out. That left him unable to express himself, and left Rachel free to assume he had no objections to her narrating for him.
"Well, once upon a time there was a prince and his princess. That princess, by the way, was yours truly. The prince was a guy who didn't exactly like playing by the rules, but he didn't hurt anyone because of his ... rebellious nature, not really. But the mean higher-ups of the kingdom decided that he was too dangerous, too much of a 'risk' to keep around. They tried to break him." Her voice cracked, forcing her to stop and take a deep breath before continuing. "So they took everything he had away from him. And then, finally, when they couldn't take anything else, they took his life and left his princess alone. One day, years and years later, the princess goes to a sleazy bar and sees someone very closely connected to the person mostly responsible for killing her prince, and the chance to kick him around is just too good to pass up."
"Rachel, stop it."
"Fuck off, Gwen, I'm having fun." She sneered cruelly, leaning forward and letting her breath fall in hot waves across Christian's face. "Your precious Gangrel killed my mate just because they didn't see things exactly the same way. I will *never* forgive him for that. Ever. You know why, Chrissy?" Christian flinched at the name but remained quiet. "Because I am one seriously pissed off princess."
She rose to her feet and stalked off out of view, out of the bedroom and, judging from the sounds following, into the kitchen. Christian allowed his eyes to drift shut again, praying for nothing more than sleep to claim him, but something wet and smooth was suddenly pressed to his lips.
"Drink," Gwenia urged, tilting the glass in her hand up slightly. Christian reluctantly drew in a tiny sip of the liquid, recognized it was water, and thirstily accepted the offering. The glass was downed rapidly before he dropped his head back down into Gwenia's waiting lap. She hesitated for a brief instant before continuing to thread her nails through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in hopes of calming his vicious trembling.
"I'm gonna get you outta here," she whispered, barely audible. "I don't know how yet, but I'm gonna try. Rachel's lost it, and I really don't need or want Gangrel beating me into the next few centuries for this." She paused, snorting to herself when she realized that Christian was probably so far out of it he couldn't understand a thing she said anyway.
Before she could go on Rachel walked back into the room, carrying a duffel bag with her and tossing it onto the end of her bed. She caught Gwenia staring curiously at her and shrugged, offering no other explanation as she began throwing various articles of clothing into the bag.
"Gangrel's gonna kill us," Gwenia pointed out quietly, desperately hoping she could force some sense into her friend. Rachel, however, just shook her head.
"No he's not. He has to find us first."
Gwenia rolled her eyes. "Like that's gonna take him so long. You have any idea how much more powerful than us he is? How do you intend on ..." She trailed off, cursing inwardly when Rachel pulled her car keys from her pocket and dangled them noisily from the end of her finger. "Rachel --"
"Get your stuff together. You, me, and our guest are going on a road trip."
******
"Why can't I sense him? Goddammit, I wanna know why I can't fucking feel him!"
Kick. Kick, kick, punch to the dashboard. Kick again.
Gangrel sighed and leaned down slightly, just enough to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. "Edge, lad, I understand you're upset, and I can sympathize with you, but if you don't stop trying to kill the car I'm going to have to tie you to your seat. It's a rental."
"I don't care if it's a fucking rental!" Edge shrieked, kicking the floorboard for good measure. "I wanna know why I can't get through to my own fucking brother!"
"When did you get such a colorful vocabulary?" Gangrel asked more to himself than anyone. He turned his attention to the windshield, looking out disinterestedly as people scurried through the parking lot to avoid the rain. The past several minutes had been spent in McDonald's parking lot, Gangrel drinking a cup of coffee and trying to kill the headache he was getting because Edge was quickly losing what little patience he had, both with himself and the world in general.
They'd been traveling all around Minneapolis, it seemed, since late the previous night, using Edge's bond with his brother as something of a honing device. So far, the only thing they'd managed to accomplish was getting frustrated with each other and driving in circles.
"Edge," Gangrel tried again, finishing his coffee and then setting the styrofoam in the cup holder built into the armrest, "you have to remember what he's going through right now. Like I said before, your fear is feeding off of his and the other way around, so the more anxious and agitated you get, the more it effects him. So if you wouldn't mind me being blunt for a second, please shut up and pull yourself back together. When you're sane and not so utterly annoying, we'll try looking again."
Edge blinked at Gangrel, unconsciously bared a pair of sharp fangs that reflected in Gangrel's dark sunglasses, but kept his comments to himself. Instead of starting another argument, he leaned back in his seat and rubbed at his eyes. Being for all intents and purposes as dead as a man in his grave, he'd discovered long ago he really had no need to sleep anymore, but he'd gotten into a habit of sleeping at night and taking short naps through the day. Given it had been nearly two days since the last time he'd been able to get a decent amount of sleep, his nerves were shot and it was obviously beginning to show. He'd been practically biting Gangrel's head off the entire morning, save for unpredictable bouts of anguished sobbing.
He knew he had to stay calm, both for his sake and his brother's, but every time he thought he had himself under control Christian's emotions would suddenly and very forcefully present themselves in a wave of confused terror that crushed around Edge's mind to the point he couldn't ignore Christian's frightened misery. At times he would break down into helpless tears, and then at others go into a fit of rage that often manifested itself in the form of beating anything in sight.
Then, of course, there was the added pressure of not being able to feel his brother's presence as he knew he should have been. It was the not knowing, the worrying about exactly what could cause that block between them, that was twisting Edge's already frazzled nerves into cruel mockeries of their former selves. Unfortunately, he had done nothing but take out those frustrations on Gangrel, who was quickly growing tired of the treatment.
"Okay."
Gangrel arched his eyebrows, staring uncertainly at his companion. "Okay what? Are you ready to calm down and act like a partially stable adult again?"
Pointedly ignoring the remark, Edge folded his hands in his lap to keep from ripping something apart, then simply nodded. "Yes. Now go. They're moving."
"Moving where?"
"How the hell should I know? I'm not a fucking honing pidgeon!" Edge snapped irritably, shaking his head in slight disgust and causing hair to fall down into his face, hair he made no effort to move.
"I'm tempted to stick a bar of soap in your mouth, boy."
"And I'm tempted to stick my foot up your ass, now drive. Left. And go a little faster while you're at it, would ya? My grandma could drive faster than this."
"I'm a little busy trying to keep from ripping your heart out through your nostrils, Edge. I need my patience in one piece and dealing with rush hour metropolitan traffic is not going to make me any friendlier, now sit over there and shut your blasted mouth unless you have something helpful to contribute to our little treasure hunt."
Edge fell silent and took to staring out the window.