Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: Hmmm...with this new twist, it's slash. Er...warning: Slash. Masochistic situations. Rape. Male on male, all of it. Don't read if you don't like that sort of thing. I may gloss over it, I may not. It all depends. But this gets very dark...
Dedication: Still for Tara!
Author's Note: I was struck. I was recently given the entire first season of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer on DVD. Good show, or it used to be. Recently it's gone down the tube, no pun intended. Anyway, this inspired me to go through my own Buffy tapes, and I was greatly stricken by the Evil Angel Arch...
Be warned. The James you see in this story is not the usual James. Which makes sense, considering what he's gone through. But I just wanted to warn you...
Body and Blood
Chapter Three
//I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die...//
Peter couldn't get the thought out of his head. He paced the length of his small room, wringing his hands in front of him. He worried his lower lip, he moaned, he sighed, and he whimpered. He wasn't sure how he should be going about all of this, but he was rather certain he was going about it all wrong. He shouldn't have told James everything so soon. What if he went to Voldemort? Then Peter was as good as dead...
//I'm going to die. Painfully and slowly.// He ran a hand through his hair (which he had taken pains to regrow completely) and sat down on his small cot. He bit hard into his lower lip, and yelped as he felt blood splatter over his tongue. He sighed, and buried his face in his hands.
"Wormtail?"
He hadn't even heard the door open.
"Yes?" He lifted his head, eyes wide and watery. It was James, not looking how James had ever looked in life. He was in a pair of black leather pants, and a sleek black tunic. His hair had been slicked and teased and who knows what else to make it stay put. And he wasn't wearing his glasses.
"I need you to run a little errand for me."
"Oh?" This was odd. No one else paid any attention to Peter other then Voldemort.
"Yeah. I need a pint of werewolf blood. Think you can pick me up some? Wait...why I am asking?" James let out a little laugh. He shook his head, and smiled. Then his voice turned biting. "get me some."
"Er..yes." Peter didn't even know what to say. Whoever this person was, it wasn't James. It may have looked like James (sort of) and sounded like James (some of the time) but it wasn't.
"Good. And I need it soon. Soon as in now." James narrowed his eyes at Peter, who nodded and leapt to his feet, desperate to comply. This James terrified him. This James seemed a born Death Eater. Peter edged out of the room, wondering where he was going to get werewolf blood at who-knew-how early in the morning. But he would, or else he had the feeling that he'd be in pain for weeks to come.
//I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.// Peter padded down the corridor, pulling his cloak around him. He slipped out of the manor that Voldemort used as his base of operations, and into the rather chilly night air. //Werewolf blood...Knockturn Alley, I guess.//
Peter was well known at Knockturn. He was sent out at least daily by Voldemort. To pick up this, that, or the other thing. No one who wasn't a Death Eater visited there now, so he was in no danger. And the apothecary would be open at this time of the night, at least to Voldemort's personal servant. He Appareted, worrying his bruised lip as he did.
"Hello?" He called, pounding on the door of the apothecary. He shifted his weight, his lips beginning to bleed yet again.
"Oh. S'you." The door was opened just enough to let Peter inside. He bowed his head to the disgruntled shop keeper and folded his hands in front of him. "What does our lord need now?"
"Werewolf blood." Peter squeaked. "A...a pint."
"A pint of werewolf's blood?" the shop keep raised an eyebrow. "What's he wanting with all of that?"
"I...I don't know." Peter shrugged. He really *didn't* know what James wanted with that much werewolf blood, It was a rare spell that called for it, and rare still that called for so much.
"Well, far be it from me to deny our lord his pleasure." The shopkeeper held out his hands. "Wait here while I get it for you."
Those were words Peter knew all too well. How many times had he come here, to this place, to fetch something for Voldemort? It was always the same. He would wait, and then return, and receive a verbal pat on the head like some faithful dog. That was all he was, he realized suddenly. A glorified pet, a hound, a bird dog....
"Here yah go." The shopkeeper was back, and handing Peter a bag. "Send our lord my well wishes."
"I will." Peter nodded. He took the bag, bowed again, and slipped back out. He Apperated back to the manor. He swallowed hard, darting down the hallways, asking after James. He mostly got shrugs and confused looks, but finally he was pointed to a rather lavish suite near Voldemort's own chambers. A suite? Peter, loyal to a fault, had a cot and a water basin in the basement. Revived psycho James had a damn suite!
"James?" Peter knocked on the door, hesitantly.
"Come in!" James called, and Peter opened the door. He sucked in his breath at what he saw. James was lying on a large canopy bed, upholstered in green and silver. He was shirtless, and a large sword was lying across his stomach. There was a carafe of some sort lying beside him, and even from across the room Peter could see his eyes glittering. And of course there was Lucius Malfoy, also shirtless, kneeling by the bed, a long thin cut still oozing blood across his shoulder.
"Um...am I...uh...interrupting you?" Peter asked, not entirely sure what he had walked in on.
"No, not at all." James said, rising up onto his elbows. "You got what I asked for?"
"Um...yeah." Peter swallowed hard, not liking the cruel glint in Lucius' eyes.
"What's *he* doing here?" Lucius drawled, and Peter wanted to be anywhere but there. He wasn't an idiot. He had heard rumors of Lucius Malfoy's sexual practices, and that he strayed to the far end of the deviation line.
"Great!" James grinned, rising like liquid to his feet. "Here...give me that..." James grabbed for the bag, pulling it off of the container of blood.
"Um...what...er..." Peter realized, that given the circumstances, he actually didn't want to know what the blood was for.
"Wormtail, Wormtail Wormtail..." James said, draping an arm about Peter's shoulders in a conspiratorial manner. "Don't you know that there is nothing better for increased sex drive and stamina then strait werewolf's blood? Hell, with this we can go all night!"
"Oh." Peter was thoroughly lost. James had never shown any interest in other men before. Much to the disappointment of Sirius Black.
"Hey...you're doable. Want to join in? Or would your master give you a spanking if he found out you were playing with the other puppies?"
"I...uh..." Now Peter's heart decided to take a small vacation to his throat vicinity. He had never given much thought to his own sexuality, but he was pretty certain raw blood and blades were not a part of it.
"Good Merlin Potter, you aren't actually thinking of letting *him* participate." Lucius scowled in Peter's direction, and he hoped that James would take the suggestion.
"Why not?" James appraised Peter. "He's cute. In a beaten dog sort of way. Why not?"
"Because he is Wormtail." Lucius said. "He's despicable."
"Nah..." James' eyes had taken on a very dangerous glint. "I think I want him..."
"I will have no part of anything involving that twitching excuse for a wizard." Lucius said, rising swiftly. "SO I suggest you take your pick, Potter. And I don't think I have to detail which would be the better choice..."
"Depends." James said softly, circling Peter. "I get the feeling Wormy here doesn't exactly *want* my attentions. That in itself makes it oh so much better..."
"So you'd rather rape the rat I take it?" Lucius said, gathering up his clothes. "Fine. If you change your mind, I doubt I will still be so eager to return. I told you Potter, I don't simply lift my robes to anyone who happens to proposition me."
"I know, I know. What can I say, I'm a creature of impulse." James gave a grin that lacked warmth or humor. "Now get out, if you don't want to lend me a hand."
"I don't, rest assured." Lucius gave Peter one hateful look, and slipped out. James reached out and ran his fingers lightly over Peter's face, making the other man draw back.
"James..." Peter wanted to cry. What had Voldemort done? He had changed something, inside of James. He had made him cruel, sadistic...he had made James like himself. Too much like himself...
"I like that...begging my name..." James licked his lips, and tilted his head to look down at Peter. "But I want to hear you scream it."
~~~~~~
Oh, cliffhanger! Yeah, this is slash...lord but I love Psycho-Revived James.