Demon – Chapter Two: Smiling Woman

Disclaimer: I don't own Schwarz, and I don't own America. I don't own Disney, and I hope they'll realize I don't own Sleeping Beauty either and that they'll forgive me for having Crawford forget the name of it. I own everything else though since it's based in a made up city with a bunch of made up people who aren't even going to be there forever. And I actually built the house, thank you. In my head. Spiffy Co. synthesized, Spiffy Co. imagined. I own Spiffy Co. I am Spiffy Co. So stick that up your nose. Yeah. XP

Crawford was in his room reading when he realized that he had not fed for the past day or so, and he got up from his couch and got ready to go out. Tonight, he decided to try something new. He hopped in the car and drove to a nightclub.

The environment ended up bothering him. He was bored, and his head was hurting. He chose two females who seemed to be quite taken by him, and he sucked them dry out back. He was still very much in the mood for more activities, though he had gotten his fill.

He walked through the night, and sensed his stalkers in the shadows.

He sighed. He was surrounded, and this was getting old. Fast. A sea of living zombies pulled at him, trying to test his limbs. They wanted to see how easily they would come off. No, he realized something. They were trying to hold him down. Faintly, he wondered why. That was when the future hit him. He saw what his present was when he opened his eyes. The vision had knocked him out for but a few seconds.

A young woman was walking toward him, holding a syringe in her hand. "I thought that you wouldn't make this so easy," she said with her deep-throated voice, sophisticated, and mocking.

He tilted his head. "What?" he asked. He wished that people would learn to give a person a break when they'd just woken up and when they're surrounded by a sea of men who are trying to kill him. A zombie attempted to eat his arm. "Hey!" His Voice knocked the man to the ground. He was swarmed in that moment; engulfed and swallowed in the sea. And all the while, the woman smiled. He fought. He kicked. He threw.

In the back of his mind, he remembered a scene from that Sleeping Chick cartoon movie. The part where the prince was attacked, and the wicked lady laughed while she watched. And then, as he bashed in the head of a middle-aged accountant, he wondered if the villain laughed at that point? Or did she just smile? Like this woman? Amid thoughts, he fought. He finally pulled out his sword and decapitated a male hair stylist.

By the time the mindless, living, not-quite-zombie men were all either dead or knocked out, Crawford was able to face the woman who stood before him. She was grinning madly, holding her syringe. "Are you their master?" he asked. He stood calmly and straightened his suit. He liked what he was. Not a breath wasted in all the fighting. Except those of whom were dead now.

The young woman stepped forward. "You can put two and one together to get four, can't you?" She transferred the needle to her other hand thoughtfully. "I'm just like you, Crawford, only a bit better, but a bit worse." She stepped forward again, out of the shadows. She was a teenager and nothing more, he saw. "But I must admit that it surprised me that you would come here, to this country. You seemed pretty cozy in Japan. How is it here? Are you cozy yet, Crawford?"

"How long have you been tracking me?" He crossed his arms and lowered his head so that his eyes may challenge hers as if he were a wolf.

"How long do you want to imagine?" She circled him. "I work for some people, Crawford. We only need a bit of your DNA. Some blood, perhaps, will work." She spoke as if he were a normal patient in a normal hospital. He wasn't a normal patient, though, and they were no where near a hospital.

"What do you mean, you're just like me?" He didn't feel like playing games. He wanted answers and, by God, he was going to get them. Whether or not he had to be able to not ask them in order. That was quite a thing to ask of a man who was very scheduled. Things must be in order for them.

"Do you want me to tell you what I am? Or do you just want to let me do what I came here to do so we can get this over with and put it behind us? Because, I'll tell you, Crawford, I have an eternity, and so do you. But my superiors, well, they don't." She stopped circling him and turned her head so that her back was angled to him and he could still be able to see her face. He didn't care to know, but he guessed that she was posing for herself. She was a walking, talking ego.

"What are you?" he demanded, his Voice ringing clear in the dead of the night, over the motionless bodies around him. Though, by then, he had figured it out. He only wanted to be sure, buy as much time as he could for... For what? No one would come to a nonexistent rescue.

"What a Voice." She smiled. "Alright. I suppose it's not too surprising that I'm a vampire as well as you. A spawn of the Gaki." She looked at him purposefully. "So. Now that I've answered your questions, will you oblige to me?"

He stood, sure on his ground. "No."

"No?" She pouted, and then said, very carefully, "I see." She paused, looking down. "Well. I suppose you'll go home and live your quite boring life. I could teach you how to be a proper Gaki. If you let me do this, I could–."

"Not finish... that sentence." A vision hit him, fanning the flames of his already growing headache. He held up a hand. An incredible prophetic wave from the River of Time flowed into his brain, pouring like a waterfall. The Future. The End. He didn't really know it at the time, but the pain and length of the vision had put him to sleep. He remembered her wicked smile as she realized things were going to go her way, and, in all generality, Crawford was sure that his was very much the same.

Crawford woke up and immediately set loose a long string of rather strong obscenities. Some of which were aimed at his aching head. Most were aimed at the fact that he was strapped down to a medical table. What a time to get a vision, he lamented with a wordless, thoughtless groan. A vision of the end of the world, no less. With a shudder, he realized that he couldn't remember exactly how or when. He also realized that he was foolish enough to fall asleep. If he could have, he probably would've gouged out his own eyes. No, because that would be foolish as well. Well, damn it if I can't find a way to punish myself.

He also realized that he wasn't alone in the room that he couldn't see. Someone had taken his glasses, his suit jacket, and his tie. He tried to lift his head to attempt to see, despite not having his glasses. His head fell back against the metal of the table.

"He's awake, doctor," a man stated, with a bit of a nervous waver. Crawford wondered why. And then wondered if he had done anything in his sleep.

"Needle him," a familiar voice of a woman stated. "He's just fed. He's still strong. He'll break the straps."

With that, Crawford decided that he hadn't been sleeping for too long, and that the woman had been following him for quite some time. That was also when he noticed that they had taken his shirt as well. He really wished they hadn't. Didn't anyone understand how uncomfortable it was to be lying on a metal table, let alone being strapped to it?

Wait, he thought, remembering the woman's words. I can break the straps? He could hear the footsteps of the man with the needle coming nearer. He tested the straps. He could do it. And so, he did.

The man with the needle fell on his back and slid, and the syringe was sent skittering away. Far, far away. Crawford hopped down from the table and strided over to the young woman. The world moved so fast. He thrust a hand out, clutching her throat. "Where's my stuff?" he demanded. When she didn't answer, he closed his hand, and opened it again. "Tell me." Again, nothing. He pushed her back and slammed her head against a wall. He'd seen Farfarello do it once. It looked painful, and fun to do.

"Hey!" Crawford turned only his head for a moment. The only other person in the room, the man who had become known as the man with the needle, was up and behind Crawford, injection in hand, poised to strike.

"If you touch me," Crawford growled slowly, maniacally, "the girl loses her head." He didn't really care if she was a vampire or not. He didn't care that she was practically a child. He was very serious about his threat. If you screwed Crawford, you will die, whether it was eventual or right away. You died. It was a fact of life – or, death, for that matter. If he was touched with that needle, the girl wouldn't have a head anymore. Common sense, people.

The man stopped his train of thoughts on its tracks. And dropped the needle. It was another moment before he turned to get help. Security, Crawford decided. He turned his attention back to the woman-girl.

"Now," he said slowly, "where's my jacket, my shirts, my glasses, and my sword? Where'd you put them?" She made a sound. He released her and threw her to the floor. "You want to tell me now? Huh?" He kicked her, and she sat there, taking it, barely moving, barely flinching. "I want my stuff. And I want it now. I want to leave this place. I want you to leave. Me. Alone!" His Voice growled and roared, vibrating the entire room, shaking the very spine of the building. Everyone could feel it, whether or not they heard it.

She stood and brushed off her jeans. "I don't really care what the hell you want, Brad Crawford. I still need something from you. And you aren't leaving until I get it from you. Do you understand?"

Crawford could see the heat in her eyes, and a craving in him rose. He wanted a fight. He wondered a little what would happen if two vampires fought. Would their strength go and retrogress in comparison to that of when they were humans, referring to each other? What the hell, he thought. He might not get another chance to test it.

He hit her across the face with the back of his arm. Bloodied her nose. Broke it, in fact. She flew back down to the floor, hand clutching face, and he decided that she had been a particularly weak human. Strong only with her tongue. But even then, she had her major flaws. Covering her nose, tears of physical pain flowing out of her eyes, she pointed across the room. He could see that she had admitted defeat.

For a blinding, brief moment, he thought his reality stretched. The moisture from her eyes turned crimson, and she was a blue ice witch. It was a flash, and it was gone. He wondered if he'd imagined it, if he was going crazy, or if it was prophecy. Across the room, he blearily saw a black on white. A sword. His clothes.

He smirked from the corner of his mouth. "For that, demon, I'll let you live." He walked past her. Yes, he was still the King of Demons. He still considered himself as such.

The security team burst into the room at that moment. Guns cocked, they were preparing to take on Crawford. They apparently didn't know that he could and would crush them. The woman-girl stood, tears mixing with her blood on her face, on the front of her shirt, her jacket. "Stop," she commanded. It was the first time she used her Voice around Crawford. "What did I tell you? You can't hurt him with those." Her Voice was too controlled. It was weak. Like herself. It did not resemble power. She had none.

Crawford was already straightening his tie. "Here's a bit of advice for you, Vespertine." He considered her to be a lady of the evening. She was not yet ready for the deepness of the night. She was not ready for the Nox. He looked at her dead on. "Never come near me again. Or else I might take away your title of demon. Do you understand? This means that I will kill you."

She shook all over. Her shoulders trembled, her eyes shook, her hand was still at her nose. She winced in pain. He could have sworn she was human, but he knew the force he hit her with. A human would be dead. He was glad that he had instilled fear in her. But it wasn't until she spoke that he realized that he should've known it was otherwise. The Future failed to drip into his eyes. "You will give me what I need, Brad Crawford. Or I swear, I will hunt you forever."

It was funny that these words came from someone covering their face. Her words were muffled. He smiled wickedly. "Then you are not a demon, child." He spat out the last word, turned on his heel, and strided out of that place. He didn't even want any of the blood from there.

He stopped at a home, got a lonely mother to let him in. And only then, did he get his fill. Children had the sweetest blood.

Schuldich had been posted outside for guard. Why on the front doorstep, Crawford had no idea. No one tended to break into a house through the front door. But he was there. And he was either guarding, or waiting for Crawford. It looked like he was guarding. And it was going to look like that. "And where have you been?" he greeted with crossed arms and a swivel of his hips and a suggestive grin.

"Is your mind always in the gutter?" Crawford remarked as he made his way up to the mansion from further down the long driveway where he left his car.

"Where is the mind of the world, Crawford? What is it that they all think collectively, instinctively? Answer that, and I guarantee you answer your own question." He leaned against a cement lion on the thick cement and brick railing of the stairs.

Crawford glared. "I really don't want to hear any cryptic riddles right now."

Schuldich, at the least, pretended that he hadn't heard Crawford, and made a show of checking his watch. "It's almost morning, Braddy. Shouldn't you be getting some shut eye about now?"

Crawford sighed heavily. He was very, very tired. And he was getting hungry too. Heck of a time... "I know what time it is," Crawford's Voice growled, and walked past the telepath. "And never call me Braddy. Again." He went to his room and went to sleep on his couch. His bed was just not as soft as it used to be.

The End of the world bit at his heels.

To Be Continued...

(A/N: Mwahaha!! The suspense!!)