One Chance

Night's black cloak covers the small town, shrouding its secrets and deceptions well. Not a single person showed up after the shots where fired, if anything more people locked their doors and pulled their curtains shut. The local police force even stayed away.

Rayflo stumbles down the street, resting against a shop front or lamp post occasionally to catch his faltering breath. He's panting, every step is a laborious and painful task. His hand flutters weakly over his heart, blood cascading down his chest. The wound has closed a little but blood still oozes from it faster than it should.

Rayflo glances down and is not unduly surprised to find his chest slick, his shirt and pants drenched beet red with blood. If it didn't hurt so goddamn much he wouldn't even be able to tell where the wound is.

He tries to distract himself from the pain, playing a little game in his mind about how Cherry will react when he comes home. Will he be happy to see him again? Maybe he'll have that desperate, pathetic look on his face like he usually does. Surely he'll be hungry, he'll need to be fed. The smell of his blood will probably drive him crazy but that'd be funny to watch.

Anything with Cherry is fun.

A weak smile curls his lips but it doesn't last long before he's dragged back down to the burning weight in his chest.

"Wait for me, Chris. I'm almost there. Please…wait."

He trudges on, not entirely sure he'll make it…but he knows he has to, if not for himself than for Chris. That damn Hunter made a mistake in not shooting him and by God he's going to use it, even if it only means he'll get to be with Chris a second longer.

One second longer. Is that too much to ask?

Still staked out by the window Charley can hear the distant sound of gunshots. He peers out into the night. He can hear sounds but he's not entirely sure what they are. It sounds like an animal screaming. Do they hunt in the woods at night around here? That's a dangerous practice anywhere much more so where Vampires roam unchecked.

Charley tries to shake his uneasiness at it all but he can't get rid of it no matter what he does just sitting there.

"This is pathetic." He murmurs, getting up and reaching for his coat.

Maybe some fresh night air will help.

Outside he stands in the middle of the street by the front door, watching a distant road carry the occasional red lights of a car across the night cloaked mountains. Sacra pokes around, putting her head to the sky every once and awhile but not raising the alarm. If something was amiss the cyborg dog would know. The Vampire tries to let this reassure him that nothing is wrong, if there was she'd know. He closes his eyes and breathes deep. The cool night air carries a fresh ocean breeze and…something very familiar. He breathes deep again, filtering out the smell of wet sand and decaying wood.

The faint tangy scent strikes a cord deep in him, one that only a Vampire can recognize.

Blood. The warm, sickly sweet smell of spilt blood.

"Master's blood." He realizes with a jolt.

His head whips back and forth, looking up and down the street. Sacra picks up on her Master's concern and seeks out the scent but it's gone as quickly as it came. For a moment he believes he must be imagining it in his worried state. It's even possible for a cyborg to hallucinate.

"Can you smell it girl or am I just imagining it?"

She whines a high pitched, sad sound, running in circles trying to catch the scent again. The wind picks up and the smell suddenly assaults him like a battering ram. Charley realizes he's not dreaming it but the breeze is carrying it away.

Sacra suddenly leaps forward, barking urgently. She tears off down the sidewalk, into the dark.

"Sacra!"

Even though its pitch black out he can still see well, his Vampiric eyes designed for this. He sees her darting towards something further away. The dark shape stumbles and lurches through the night.

He hears a voice weakly call out his name.

"Ch…ris?"

"Master!" He shouts and tears towards the figure.

Rayflo's legs finally buckle and he goes crashing to the ground with a muffled cry.

Charley falls to his knees and picks the fallen Vampire up.

"Master! What happe-"

His hand brushes over the gaping wound and comes away dripping with blood. The pungent yet ridiculously strong odour assaults his senses, near causing his brain to overload. His hunger comes raging back but that's the least of what he feels. His Master is injured, there's so much blood everywhere, what happened? His limbs freeze, clutching Rayflo to him. A warm spot grows on his chest where the Vampire's blood soaks through his clothes.

Thankfully, the robotic-half of him can still function. He shoves everything aside and focuses.

"Come on, let's get you back upstairs."

Chris clamps his hand over the wound and slings Rayflo's arm over his shoulders, hauling him inside. Mercifully, the receptionist is looking the other way.

"Hurry, Chris." Rayflo gasps, fingers digging into his shoulder.

"I am, I am." He whispers back hurriedly, struggling to not further hurt the already terribly injured man but also keep his fears at bay, which is proving difficult

"Sir, are you okay?"
Charley's head whips around see a woman dressed in a maid's uniform come up behind them. Her young eyes are concerned as she peers at them.

"Uh, no we're fine. He had one too many drinks. Come on, now."

He motors towards the elevator as quickly as he can. Rayflo struggles to stand as upright as possible. Unfortunately, that is little more than what the hunch back of Notre-Dame could manage. Once inside, he shields his master's body from the maid's sight until the doors close. Even as they do so she's still staring at them concernedly.

Rayflo slumps against Charley, trembling slightly. Chris holds him tight.

"Hang on, Master. We're almost there."

He tries to nod but he's just barely clinging to consciousness. Charley tries to draw strength and believe his own words but they sound hollow and dry to him.

When the elevator lets them off Charley is all but dragging Rayflo down the hall, worse than a dead weight. Fear works its way through the barrier he has built and invades his mind.

What if it's already too late? There's so much blood, and his heart, what if he doesn't even have a chance? What if this is an exercise in futility? What if there is no hope but he won't know that until it's too late.

And he'll have to watch him die. The very thought nearly cause him to seize up, eyes prickling with tears. He bites his lip and shoves away all the unhelpful thoughts and concentrates only on helping Rayflo but this is easier said than done. The fear seems to have taken up a permanent residence inside his head. After getting into the room he hauls the unconscious Vampire onto the bed. Blood drips onto the carpet, leaving a trail of gore from where thy came.

Blood, there's blood everywhere. He's covered in it. It permeates the air, so strong and uncontrolled. The scent aggravates his hunger and terrifies him at the same time. Snagging a towel from the bathroom he begins to wipe away the excess blood, trying to find where the wound is.

His heart sinks when he finds it right over his heart. He gingerly touches it. Rayflo flinches and groans. His chest is just barely rising, each breath a little gasp.

"Why isn't it closing?" Charley asks himself.

Charley had seen the Vampire heal from countless wounds, even his own powers are exceptionally fast. It's such a small wound, as long as it didn't hit his heart, it should start healing itself instantly. And if it did hit his heart he'd already be dead, so what's wrong?

Rayflo's eyes flutter and he gives a pain filled gasp. Glazed eyes open and wander till they find Charley's.

"Chris." He breathes.

"Master, what happened? Why aren't you healing?"

"Shot. Silver…in the bullet."

"Silver." Charley whispers.

When shot with silver, even if it doesn't hit the heart it can cause serious poisoning in a Vampire, the seriousness amplified or decreased by the proximity to the heart.

This is way too close. There will be poisoning for sure. Charley suddenly realizes there is no blood on his back and no exit wound that he saw. The bullet must still be inside of him.

"It's…here."

Rayflo brings one shaky hand up to rest on the side of his ribs. Charley runs his fingers over where he points. He can feel an unnatural nub stick out against the normal flow of his rib bones. Rayflo flinches at the minor touch.

"You're…going to have to…cut it out." He rasps.

"With what?" Charley asks, slightly horrified.

He's a Vampire Hunter, not a surgeon!

"Wasn't a …knife sent up with…dinner?"

"It's a steak knife!" Charley almost wails.

"It'll…have to do."

Rayflo weakly grasps his arm.

"Hurry, Chris."

From the weary and pained look on his Master's face and the fact he used his real name means he has no time to be stalling yet he can't really help it. It's a steak knife for God's sake, not a scalpel!

Charley crosses the room, gingerly picking up the knife and glancing back at his Master. It's been so long since he's felt silver's nasty sting. He can only imagine the pain Rayflo's in. This isn't a time to be hesitating.

"God, please…" He mutters, rummaging in this bag and digging out a pair of tweezers he brought with him. He's going to need them.

Once again kneeling on the carpet he mentally prepares himself for what he has to do. He can't take too long though, this is life and death here.

He presses the cold metal tip over where he prays is right above the bullet. He doesn't want to have to cut into him more than once.

Once is already seeming like too much.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes (probably not the best option in retrospect but he really can't deal with it any other way) and pushes the blade in. Rayflo gulps a breath but stops short, the pain blinding him temporarily.

Charley bites his lip and as gently as he can possibly be, he cuts down. Now if you have absolutely any knowledge of what a steak knife is used for no one in there right mind would attempt to use it for surgery, as the main motion involved is hacking and the last thing Charley wants to do is cause his Master anymore unnecessary pain, but God, what else is he supposed to do?

Rayflo's skin parts easily for the sharp metal but it's too much. On top of the burning hole in his chest, the weakness from blood loss and the red hot bullet in his side, this added stress is just too much for him to take. His body overloads on pain and he passes out. Charley feels his body go limp and mentally pressures himself to hurry.

When the incision is as long as his pinkie finger he pulls out the knife and pinches the sides together. Rayflo jerks reflexively but doesn't awaken. A puff of smoke escapes the wound to reveal the small silver sphere tucked inside, the flesh around it blackened and charred. A groan of revulsion escapes Charley's lips as the putrid smell of scorched living flesh hits his nose. Its something he hasn't smelled in a very long time. Rayflo groans even in his unconscious state, the pain penetrating even that one merciful veil.

"Hold on, Master." Charley whispers.

He brings the tweezers up to the wound and as carefully as possible grabs the bullet without touching anything else. The tweezers slip, unable to get a grip on the slick bloody metal. He grits his teeth and tries again and again, each time his heart sinking lower as blood pours from the wound.

Finally, he manages to get a grip on the thing but not without pushing the tweezers in deep and hearing an agonized cry from Rayflo.

"I got it!" He exclaims as the small silver bullet emerges smoking from the wound. He sets the toxic piece of metal on the night stand and leans over Rayflo, gripping his shoulders and gently shaking him awake.

"Master, Master wake up, you can't sleep yet."

His eyes open slowly, glazed, bloodshot and pain filled.

"Is it over?" He asks, voice hoarse.

"Yes, yes. You brought blood with you, right?"

"In…your bag." His voice is hardly above a whisper.

Charley dives for his suitcase. Sure enough, tucked under the first layer of clothes is a dozen or so blood packets wrapped in an ice bag. Grabbing the lot of them, he runs back and kneels by his Master. He gently presses a packet to Rayflo's lips. The Vampire grasps it weakly, fangs flashing before sinking through the thin plastic. Blood bleeds out over the cover and rolls down onto his skin.

Once the Vampire starts he can't seem to stop, body crying out for the only liquid that can help it. He becomes lost in his frenzy, the blood the only thing he sees and knows. Charley knows how it feels but he's never seen his Master in such a state before. In his frenzy he accidently sinks his fangs straight through a packet and into the sensitive material of Charley's palm. He yelps and tears it away. He immediately forgives the starving Vampire and shoves the pain to the back of his mind, focusing on being much more careful when handing him the packages.

Only after draining ten whole packets does he finally fall back, exhausted and panting for breath.

The hole in his chest has started to close as well as the slit in his side. His face begins to relax and his breathing slows and calms down. Chris takes a deep breath and leans back.

There's blood everywhere, enough to make you think a murder went down, which one almost did. He doesn't even want to think about how the maids will react to this. He crawls to his feet and looks down at Rayflo, face relaxed and tired, eyes open only a crack. Despite the caked on blood he can see the wound has fully closed now, leaving behind a strange curly red wheal in its place.

"Cherry…"

The name he so very much despises but can't possible bring himself to hate right now rides out on a quite breath, far too weak for his liking.

He reaches down and sweeps the Vampire's damp black hair out of his eyes.

"Just go to sleep, Master." He mutters, cupping the Vampire's forehead with one hand. The warmth he feels is shocking. He's burning up with fever but that's common with silver poisoning. Rayflo's eyes droop wearily and close.

"Whatever you say…Chris."

Charley watches over him till he falls asleep. Once he has he takes a wash cloth and wipes the blood from his face and neck. As he draws the cloth over his exposed throat he feels a dull hunger pain stab at his stomach but he quickly banishes it.

Their roles feel reversed, as a child it was Rayflo who wiped away the filth but now it's him who must take care of his Master. Rayflo murmurs, and takes a deep, unhindered breath. He presses his cheek into Charley's hand. Charley lets the warmth radiate against him.

Suddenly anger flares inside him. How could this happen? Where did he go and what happened? It must have been a Vampire Hunter, who else would carry silver bullets? But who could it be? The Vatican hadn't mentioned any other commissions for this case. Could it be a vigilante taking the law and their safety into their own hands? It wouldn't be surprising with all the attacks around this area.

And why are all these horrible things keep happening lately? Why doesn't the dark Vampire just let him in, trust him and tell him what's going on? He's painfully reminded of the time he came home to his apartment after receiving a call from Minear late at night that something was wrong. He found Rayflo, refusing to tell him anything but terribly injured. He'll never forget that night, the man keeping him at arms length about it ever since, practically refusing to believe it ever happened.

He groans and rubs his forehead with the back of one bloody hand. Nothing is making sense. He's buried himself deeper in the Vampire world than he ever wanted to be. Nothing is easy or straight forward, not since Vassalord reared its ugly head among other things already going terribly wrong.

He absent mindedly glances at the hand Rayflo bit. He had never known when he installed his cyborg parts that they would integrate so thoroughly into the rest of his body. Even when the more sensitive and non-metal parts of his anatomy (such as the palms of his hands) are damaged they usually heal along with the rest of his normal flesh wounds. Obviously, when his fully metal arms are damaged or dented it doesn't heal but if the sensitive fibres that run through them are torn or ripped they'll heal as if they were muscle or flesh. He never understood why this happened but he's very grateful for it, it's saved his life more than once. But even though the puncture wounds are gone it feels like the pain is still there, a ghost of something lost. He hadn't had time to think about it when it happened but it hurt like hell.

Rayflo had never bit him before, he realized. In his century and a half of feeding off of him he had never once bit back.

Thinking of such things causes his hunger to return again. His eyes gravitate to Rayflo's exposed throat. The soft white flesh is irresistible, like heroine to an addict. The longer he stares the more he begins to notice the pulse of his jugular against his skin. Its something only a hungry Vampire would notice. The gentle rise and fall of each breath and the suddenly deafening sound of the blood rushing through his veins.

He suddenly realizes he's unconsciously bending over Rayflo, fangs coming nearer and nearer to his neck. He jerks himself away, like rising from a trance. He claps his hand over his mouth and can't help but feel disgusted and ashamed with himself. How can he even fathom feeding off him when he's unconscious and in such a state? He turns away, trying to clear his head but the smell of the whole room overwhelms him, burning his throat. He dashes to the window and sticks his head out into the night, taking in the glorious fresh air without the tiniest trace of blood.

Shoot, he mutters to himself. I should have had a drink earlier.

But then again, if he had fed that loss of blood really could have killed Rayflo. Once you run out of blood it's all over. But then again, maybe he wouldn't have gone out and none of this would have happened. Maybe he'd be alright, safe and unharmed, bugging him for an entire evening.

Then again, maybe not…

What does is matter, rehashing what has happened? Not even God can take back what has happened. He can only forgive your sins and teach you for next time. So what is the lesson here?

Charley sighs, trying to pull meaning from it all. In years gone by he could have instantly quoted what he was supposed to have learned and vowed never to do it again. But lately it's become harder and harder to figure out just what God would want him to do. It's like him and his faith are drifting apart. The thought strikes a cord of fear in him but not as much as he would have expected. That in itself scares him even more. Is he really that far gone?

He kneads his forehead, leaning it against the sill.

Why can't anything be easy? Just one little thing, God, please!

It's only easy when you either only play in the light or disappear in the dark, you can't have the best of both worlds, a small voice speaks in his head.

Doesn't he know it.

With his head somewhat clear he returns to tending Rayflo.

He manages to get the blood soaked clothing off of him and tosses them in the garbage can. They're really too far gone to be saved. He pulls the warm covers up around the sleeping man and tucks him in. His breathing is finally returning to normal, unlaboured and smooth. Charley gazes down at him, eyes lingering on his peaceful face and not his neck.

He doesn't want to leave him alone in case he may wake up and need him. Besides someone's got to ward away the cleaning staff, if not for hiding the mess for keeping Rayflo from leaping on them in a possibly still blood deprived state. With a lingering look he tears his eyes away. He's got to plan his next move and find out just what the hell is going on.

Out in the pitch black night, in the shadows of an abandoned and ruined building tucked in the furthest reaches of the town's mountains, dark creatures writhe and crawl across the ground. The earth swarms, moving as if covered in worms. The moon sails out from behind the clouds. It illuminates and reflects sickly off the grossly pale grey skin of the Vampires as they gather in the grand hall of the ruins. The huge room is packed to the rafters with wretched Vampires. Fighting and snarling fills the room but none leave, only fight for their spots so they may stay.

"Oh, what a turn out!" A high pitched, melodious voice pierces the din.

Every Vampire falls silent and turns to the newcomers. Those closest bow down, the action spreading till the entire room is kneeling or has hands placed over hearts. The small group of men and women stroll in non-chalantly. They don't look like these Vampires, bearing a healthy and whole look but they feel just as evil.

The man in front is beautiful, like an angel. His blond hair sweeps to the floor, bound in a loose braid.

"So, where do we start?" He purrs.

And I'm done! Not the story but this chapter! This has been an intense chapter, sorry to dump so much on you in one go, seven Word pages! I had trouble writing some of the scenes and the thing grew like three pages in editing but I'm pretty happy with this and I hope you enjoy.

And I gather this would be a wise idea to do before I become starved for ideas but if anybody has an idea or something they'd like to see come up please PM me, I'd love to hear any suggestions and would be willing to act on them if I can fit them in. Despite what it seems I do have a plot but it's not carved in stone.

I've written too much now already so signing out!