Wine of Blood and Tears

Vincent and Nanaki stood out at Cosmo Candle that evening. They both still pondered the strange occurrences involving the Lifestream. Nothing much had changed for the past few days, but Nanaki remained unsettled.

"Mmm, I don't feel right just sitting here on my haunches all day. There has to be some explanation for all this, there just has to be…" Nanaki grumbled.

"What if we found someone who knew what's going on, an expert in the physiology of the Planet and the Lifestream?" Vincent suggested. His companion sighed tiredly.

"The biggest expert I ever knew of was Grandpa and he's… And I don't trust any scientist to know what they were talking about as far as I could throw one. And WE certainly don't have the means to determine the problem other than waiting for it to become better or worse and then seeing if we could do anything to remedy it."

"…wait," Vincent said. He glanced at the sky.

"What is it?"

"The glow of the Lifestream. It's not so bright anymore," he remarked. Nanaki looked about him.

"You're right." He directed his eye to the southern skies. The jet of Lifestream. It was virtually a pinstripe in the dark sky. "Hmm. What could it mean? Nothing bad, I hope."

"…never rely on hope anymore than you should. It is very fickle with its followers and merciless to those it forgets."

--

I no longer feel him there. I no longer heed his cries echoing on those ghostly breezes. I no longer see him wading through that endless sea. Why? Why'd you let him go? Was his will still too powerful for even you to contain? Planet, won't you show me an answer? Why? How? How did he free himself from your prison?

She still exists in some form or another, so she still has some influence over him. And his will was always powerful so he could have freed himself whenever he pleased. But you had defeated him and his dream. And he recognized his defeat and stayed in his prison. But she, like a buzzing ambitious and opportunistic bee, whispered sweet nothings in his ear, goading him to pursue that dream once again. And now, he's risen to accomplish it.

I can't let him do that. I have to stop him. But how? How can I go back?

I'll help. Since Holy came that day, it's fallen asleep here until it's ever needed again. I'll ask it to lend some of its power to you.

--

Vincent went to the local inn later that night to rest and be alone. But he didn't really want to go to sleep. Not after a hundred years and the clawed dreams that stalked the borders of his conscious and subconscious mind. So he only laid down in a bed and leered at the ceiling. He contemplated for a bit. Sephiroth. Was that really him or just a wakeful nightmare that his mind conjured up? And what he said. That he was the father of his demise because he couldn't save him, and Lucrecia, from Hojo's demented experiments. And…that he said that he would be his. All of it disconcerted him. And that kiss. A sour taste arose in his mouth just thinking about it.

"Why must I be tortured every waking moment of my life and slumber? Is there no safe haven for me where I can be free of all pain?" he whispered to the ceiling. Of course he knew it wouldn't answer back, and for that, he was sort of grateful. He inhaled and sighed longingly. At least when he was in his coffin, he had some peace, however insignificant it was compared to anything else.

He closed his eyes, even knowing that action would likely invite unwanted slumber or thoughts or worse. He wouldn't be surprised if the latter occurred. It would just confirm that he wasn't meant to have any peace, whatsoever. He was only meant to suffer.

"That is right, little demon. You are only meant to suffer, never to experience happiness or anything like it ever again. You are nothing more than an object, a possession. My possession."

"No…not again," he said in a hushed tone of terror. He tried to reach for his gun but his hand refused to obey because some unknown force held it in place.

His entire body was rendered useless.

Vincent was dipped into darkness, weightless here in this seeming void. He feared that if he opened his eyes, the darkness would steal his sight, but he did so, anyways. And it was dark. Forever black night, boundless and everywhere. And it gave shelter to faceless things that howled and wailed and snapped and snarled like ravenous beasts. Icy claws formed of the blackness seized each his limbs.

"You can never escape. You belong to me and I will have you, completely and totally. All of you. Your body, your soul, your mind, your heart, all of you. And I will make it mine for eternity."

A pair of hands sliced into the living darkness that ensnared Vincent, slowly advancing upon him with desirous fingers. He struggled to liberate himself of the clutches of the faceless things.

"Let go of me!" he cried out.

"Never…" The yellow eyes of the faceless creatures came into being, all reflecting Vincent's horrified expression. They lit up the black void like stars, and the creatures were no longer faceless. They were demons with sharp teeth and horns and webbed wings that made the darkness whirl like countless colliding vortexes. This was the lair of Chaos, the evil seed of Jenova that festered within him, a parasite that was ever so slowly devouring his humanity.

"Mine."

Sephiroth.

But it wasn't Sephiroth. It was another clothed in his skin. Just as before. He understood that now.

"How can you think that? Who else would I be?" he said in mock pain, and then he chuckled menacingly as he came closer. When his pale hand neared his captive's face, Vincent jerked back. Sephiroth drew away as though a shunned leper but came forward once more, taking a lock of his hair in his slender fingers and twining the strands about them casually.

"…Jenova…"

"You bear my legacy in your veins. You cannot deny me. Never can you deny me. You are my tool to use as I see fit, just as he was, just as they will all be, one by one, someday," said the pseudo-Sephiroth. He brought his lips dangerously near to Vincent's, his breath stealing the other's breath, and added, "But as for now, you are mine, my little toy, my little tool."

"You can't do this to me," Vincent hissed, although knowing of how blatant his fear was evident, billowing up from his skin and clothes.

"I can and I will." The pseudo-Sephiroth commenced plans for his captive, stripping Vincent down to nothing. He made his nails like bird talons and slashed Vincent's denuded body, each slash greeted with the spilling of inky tepid blood. He screamed, his cry eclipsed by the demons' chaotic noise. "Tormenting you is so very sweet because there are so many ways…"

"Stop!"

"So many ways…" Pseudo-Sephiroth inclined toward a gash he made on Vincent's chest, over his heart, where the blood slowly trickled down in thin trails. These tiny trails he licked up studiously, lustfully. "Your blood is like wine and thick as honey, however black as ink."

Vincent fell quiet, his breaths quivering when they left him.

"Keep yelling, screaming, moaning, whatever noise you can make. It is music to our ears," uttered his captor. Pseudo-Sephiroth kissed him lightly on the lips, licked them with his tongue. He ran a finger along the wound on his uncovered chest then rammed it in, causing it to bleed flesh. Vincent groaned in agony.

"Stop…" he voiced feebly.

"I want you to beg. Beg, my demon toy," his captor commanded.

"You will not do it? There are ways…" The demons' claws dug into Vincent's arms and legs deeply. His body writhed and twisted in sheer torture, he feared his bones would splinter and break as frail twigs under a careless foot. He screamed but refused to beg, for whatever shreds of pride he still had forbade him from doing so. "Still nothing? Then how about this?"

"No!" Pseudo-Sephiroth took Vincent's naked bloody legs in his arms and positioned himself between them.

"Who knows? You might even enjoy this."

Vincent gasped in perfect shock. He strived frantically to free himself but it was futile. Regardless, he kept trying. He just wanted to escape. He didn't want to feel what was soon being done to him.

"Yes, just keep on struggling. But you will never escape because you are mine…"

If I cry tears as I am raped, they won't be blood, as there is still humanity left within me. I will cry the tears of beloved man and hope that they deliver me from this morbid l pain that I suffer.

"Cry. Beg."

"No…"

--

"NO!!" Vincent screamed.

"Hey, you! Stop screaming, you're disturbing the other patrons," someone screamed back. Vincent shot up straight, out of breath. He glanced hastily about the inn, and then at his claw.

"You… You did this to me. Hojo. You put her inside of me where she can never leave, where she will haunt me forever with nightmares that make me wish for death. I can't…stand it anymore. Can't stand…it…" Vincent got up from bed and rushed out of the inn.

He left Cosmo Canyon altogether.

There was nothing for him there. There was nothing for him anywhere. Because Jenova would always be near wherever he went. He was cursed. Cursed.