BVQA: Uh. . . heheh. . . sorry. . . I don't think I've mentioned this, but updates? Me? Very sporadic. Sorry. But I am the one who's updating most often in this fandom, so cut me some slack? Please?
Oh, and once again, a big thank-you goes out to my editor! She's smart, I'm stupid, we go together great.
EDIT: Noticed the title was missing. Fixed it.
Chapter 3
Melting Ice
Ragamuffin knew that there was something very, very wrong with him. The thought felt almost. . . foreign. . . in his head, since he knew (knew, knew, knew, knew) that vampires didn't have things wrong with them, ever. Vampires didn't get sick, or poisoned, or anything like that. It was like the consolation prize for getting trapped in an existential nightmare was that if you were going to die, it was gonna happen fast and it would just be because of your own stupidity. They were immune to pretty much everything, from plague to chugging a tall glass of arsenic.
So if someone could please explain to Ragamuffin why he was currently heaving his guts out in Lenore's bathroom that would be wonderful. He was pretty sure that blood coming from any bodily orifice was bad, but that if it was coming from your mouth and you couldn't get medical attention you were pretty much a goner. Which was impossible, of course, because vampires couldn't die like this. They didn't just randomly start being unable to eat. Dying of starvation? Yes, vampires could die like that, but not easily or quickly. The longer they went without blood, the more their mind went out the window and they just went for the nearest thing with a heartbeat. Decapitation? Can you think of any living creature that can survive long without a head? Stake through the heart? Kind of, depends on the situation. Burned to ashes? Dead, because a bloodsucking pile of soot just doesn't work. Grenades? Fine, pile up enough TNT and even they can't survive being exploded to death. Other than that, nothing could put a dent in the life expectancy of a vampire. True, vampires could be contained, having their powers bound like that witch had once done to him, but that wasn't-
Oh.
Oh.
Ragamuffin let go of the edge of the sink, gasping for air he knew he didn't need. He felt like he'd just been punched in the gut, and it wasn't from his recent fit of gagging. The witch had bound his powers, but who could say that she hadn't done something else along the way? A fail-safe in case her original spell was broken. She'd been powerful enough and smart enough to do it, to get around a vampire's natural immunity to deadly spells.
Vampires could die of starvation. . .
Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions. Maybe there had just been something wrong with the girls' blood, although the fact that his last two victims had been vastly different meant that that was highly unlikely. One had been an honor student and the other had been an airhead in a club, but still. . .
Oh, who was he kidding? There was just no way. Besides, even if he did know the reason he couldn't feed, it didn't change the fact that something deep inside him was completely and irrevocably screwed up, and he had no way of fixing it and no one to turn to.
The idea was. . . terrifying. . .
Ragamuffin slumped back against the wall, shutting his eyes tightly. He felt both physically and emotionally exhausted. Just sitting here, unmoving, allowed him to feel the fatigue deep in his bones. The tile floor pressed a chill against the back of his hands where they rested against the floor, but it was nothing compared to the cold slowly snaking its way through his body. It felt like he'd swallowed ice instead of blood and now it was being pumped through his veins, freezing him from the inside out. All he wanted to do was find somewhere warm to curl up and sleep for a year.
Instead, he got up, fetched a towel, and began to mechanically sop the blood up off the floor. It was sticky against his hand and the dry softness of the towel felt disgusting by comparison. He wanted to wrench his hand away but instead he swallowed down another dry heave and kept working. There were two main spots to get, one where he'd spat a mouthful of blood that had come up just as he was entering the room and all around the sink where it had violently splattered out. He could still remember the sound it made as it splashed against the porcelain and washed back towards him, thoroughly soaking his dress shirt.
Ragamuffin noticed that he'd stopped wiping at the floor and tugged at the towel, realizing belatedly that the blood had dried and thoroughly glued it to the floor. He chuckled weakly to himself.
Of course.
Ragamuffin closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against his knuckles as he gave another futile yank, and let the tears drip onto his blood-soaked sleeve.
Ragamuffin stumbled out of the bathroom nearly two hours later with red-rimmed eyes and shivers running through his body. He walked to the laundry-room, one foot in front of the other, and yanked open the washing machine.
His jacket dropped to the floor.
Another wave of shudders swept through him with the blast of cold air. He fumbled with the knot of his tie, obscenities he was trembling too much to say running through his mind. His hands wouldn't stop shaking and his head was starting to spin. He only got two buttons undone before he growled in the back of his throat and gave up, yanking the shirt over his head.
Ow.
Ragamuffin could feel where the collar had caught him under the nose, and he put a hand to the raw scrape before letting out a heavy, bone-weary sigh and letting the shirt slip through his fingers. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and stayed like that for a few moments, just letting himself breathe. Maybe this was why humans liked doing it so much, because even though the gasps of air were uneven and ragged just doing something he could focus on completely was helping him calm down.
More like 'cling to sanity'.
Ragamuffin knelt down, scooping up his jacket and shirt and dumping them both in the wash. He missed the start button on his first try but hit it on the third, and a few seconds later the only remaining traces of his horrific night were being erased by the spin cycle. Too bad he couldn't clean himself up so easily.
Ragamuffin caught his yawn in the palm of his hand, finally letting his exhaustion catch up with him, and slipped down the hallway. He considered wondering where he was going, but decided against it. There was really only place he could go at this point, the one place he always went when his world was crashing down around his ears and he needed to feel like he was breathing.
Lenore's door didn't creak as he opened it but she stirred anyway, rolling over to face him.
". . .Raggy?"
He was too tired to complain about the nickname. Instead he shut the door and collapsed beside her bed, crossing his arms loosely over his bare torso. He'd really hoped Lenore would be fast asleep so he didn't have to explain why he was wandering into her room at the crack of dawn, but considering the night he'd been having he knew better than to expect something so lucky.
"Go back to sleep, Lenore," he murmured, shutting his eyes. The hardwood flooring of her bedroom wasn't exactly comfortable, but if he focused really hard he could pretend it was the inside of a coffin. "I'll be out of your hair in a second." He'd just stay here for a little while, then he'd head back out to the couch.
Something soft landed on his face. Ragamuffin cracked one eye open, seeing nothing but an expanse of red. Lenore had dumped one of her blankets on top of him. He sat up, letting it fall onto his lap, and looked over at her. Lenore was flopped sideways on the bed, arms and chin hooked over the edge so they were on the same eye-level.
"You're all shivery," Lenore said softly. "Don't sleep on the floor, stupid."
Ragamuffin rolled his eyes. "I'm fine-"
A pillow hit him on the head. Then another blanket, followed by a second and third pillow.
"Lenore!" he complained, holding up his arms to shield himself. He could hardly bite back a smile when he heard her cheerful giggling. Yes, this was what he'd needed, a place that he could pretend everything was normal. Lenore was always so full of life and vibrancy that it was difficult to avoid being pulled along in her wake, following her into whatever insanity she had planned next. Sometimes it was against the law, sometimes it would end in gruesome deaths, and, sometimes, it was being pelted with stuffed animals at five AM.
"That's it!" Ragamuffin growled playfully, pushing his way out from under the pile that had built up around him. "You're gonna get it!" Lenore jumped from where she'd been picking up more ammunition- a slightly decapitated teddy bear- and ran for the door. Ragamuffin slipped in front of her, reaching out to scoop her up, but she dodged between his arms and out of the room with a shriek of laughter. Ragamuffin spun around and followed her down the hallway, the carpet sticking slightly to his bare feet. Lenore glanced back at him, a grin locked on her face, as she skidded around a corner. He followed and almost- but not quite- didn't notice that she'd pressed herself up against the wall instead of continuing onwards, hoping he wouldn't see her and continue onwards.
"Gotcha!" he announced with a smirk, catching her up in his arms as she tried to run back the other way.
"Waugh! Lemmie go!" she cried, squirming. He lifted her off the floor, ignoring her kicking and screaming.
"Never," he growled in her ear, flipping her so she was facing upwards and he was supporting her with only one arm. With the other he began tickling her mercilessly, ignoring her protests. "I told you you were gonna get it! Surrender now or face the dire consequences!"
Lenore couldn't get anything even resembling words out through her fits of laughter, so after a few more moments of hysterics he slung her over his shoulder and started back towards her room. She was still twitching with giggles when he dropped her onto her bed and scooped up an armful of the blankets and pillows strewn over the floor, dropping them over her head. She squirmed, fighting her way up through the mass of fabric, until her tousled hair and slightly flushed face poked up into the air. Ragamuffin couldn't hold back a chuckle- she looked like a baby bird tangled up in a giant nest. He yawned sleepily, more tired than he'd been before, and leaned down to give Lenore a kiss on the forehead.
"Goodnight," he said pointedly, beginning to stand back up.
She grabbed him in a bear hug, knocking him off balance and yanking him down next to her on the bed.
"Goodnight," she replied with the tiniest of smirks, snuggling up to his chest and closing her eyes. He opened his mouth to protest but she was already asleep. He rolled his eyes and refused to grin, reaching over and smoothing down her messy hair. She'd lost her bed-cap sometime during their tickle fight, but he figured he wouldn't be able to go look for it at this point anyway. If she wanted him to stay there was no force on earth that could pry her arms from around his midriff.
He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, feeling warm and safe for the first time that night.
