Tainted But Beautiful
Part 3: The Renegades
28. Axel
Pairings: AkuZeku, Zemyx, AkuRoku, AxDem, minor onesided VexZex, XemSaix, Marxene, Cleon
Rated: M
Warnings: Vampires, vampires, vampires...uh, yaoi, AU-ish-ness, abuse, noncon, rape, GRAPHIC SCENES, CHARACTER DEATH, OVERALL WEIRDNESS, SCADS OF VIOLENCE
Summary: Axel is a powerful vampire slayer who's captured Zexion, a vampire, as his pet. What Axel doesn't bargain on is Demyx, his former student, developing a strong attraction to Zexion...
Notes: I promised that I would update last night, but...it got horrendously late by the time I finished this monstrosity, so you're getting it now. Sorry for the lateness.
First of all, I've got to dedicate this chapter to the anonymous reviewer lD. Seriously, I think that was one of the best reviews I've ever received. :D To think that people are talking about my story IRL...that's both a scary and awesome thought. Maybe it's just scary awesome! XD Thank you for making my day, though. Here's more for your p**n-fest (I have a vague suspicion what the "**" stands for, but I'm not sure exactly...care to confirm?) Out of curiosity, exactly what do you talk about? I mean, there really isn't that much to...hell, this story can be summed up in "Axel is a douchebag, Demyx is a whiner, Zexion is a slut, and some of them are vampires and some of them are vampire slayers. The end."
I did choose to go with the Axel-centric chapter, although the first half of the chapter isn't so much about Axel. This is easily one of the more intense chapters, and where things really start...taking a downward spiral, so to speak. In particular, I must warn you all of the massive slaughter that is about to commence. Characters will be dropping left and right, starting from this chapter and continuing till the end of the story.
We have only two more chapters left and an epilogue! Keep on encouraging me with your wonderful reviews; this is the first time a story of mine has gotten such a response. ^^ (Now, if only my fictionpress could as well...) After Tainted, I probably won't do much in the way of fanfic anymore, except for maybe occasionally updating A More Imperfect Union (and finishing Through a Mirror, of course). I'll be pooling most of my energy into a massive, epic original project of mine, Broken Memory, which I want you all to check out once I get it started.
Luxord could hear the sounds of battle in the distance, even though he was almost halfway across the pier now. Muffled snarls, thumps, screeches, roars, the clash of metal. Whatever was going on there...it was a close fight. He didn't have much time or attention to spare on the fight, though.
"Hurry!" he cried, gesturing after him. "Don't fall back! Follow me!"
"You sure he doesn't need our help?" Kadaj shouted. He was running after Luxord, though paused occasionally to spin around and stare at the warehouse as if he wanted to join the battle. Well, of course he did. He was a vampire, and lived for shedding blood.
So simple, so crude, just like any vampire. Even the Superior was not immune. In the end, he was exactly like his mindless minions--merely an animal constrained by his instincts. A predator without a thinking mind, like lions and tigers.
There was a reason that humans had almost extermined lions and tigers from this world...
Luxord allowed the ghost of a smile to flicker across his face. Those silly vampires, believing him one of them. And those ridiculous slayers, also thinking the same thing. Luxord lived for no man but himself. He would never let himself become the lapdog of monsters or brainless adrenaline junkies (as most vampire slayers were). He had something none of them did, and that was full possession of his wits. Not to mention a streak of good luck that, in all forty some years of his life, had yet to fail him.
"He doesn't need anything from us anymore, my boy," Luxord said jovially. He had reached the helicopter that he'd called before the battle had started, and threw open the door, gesturing for Kadaj to follow him in. "This is called cutting our losses. Getting out while the going is good."
"Are you sure?" Kadaj said skeptically. "What if he wins?"
Luxord laughed. Thankfully, he was far from the warehouse and the battle sounds, combined with the regular slap of waves against the pier, drowned out the noise. It wouldn't do for Xemnas to have heard, though in his current state the Superior probably couldn't do anything to stop him.
"My boy, he will not win. And even if he does, he'll be crippled beyond belief. Do you really want to lend your support to something like that? Join me, and you'll have riches, power, and glory. Unlike the dear Superior, my luck never fails."
"All right..." Kadaj said, frowning a little. He probably didn't think Luxord's words made much sense; then again, Luxord had already pinned him as the type who wasn't terribly bright. "All right, I'll come with you. If you really can bring the House of Jenova back to power, then...I won't protest."
"My boy, you don't know the half of what I can do," Luxord said. His smirk was practically devouring half of his face. "Now, let's get out of here."
Minutes later, the regular thwok-thwok of helicopter blades resounded through the air, and, unseen by all, Luxord and Kadaj made their getaway.
Step after step Xaldin took towards Zexion and Demyx. Zexion was standing in front of Demyx, his arms outstretched, Mephistopheles flapping a warning circle around him. He was putting on a brave face but he couldn't hide the shiver running down his spine as Xaldin came ever closer. He was terrified out of his mind, that much was clear--as terrified as Demyx was.
But Demyx, too, held his ground. It wouldn't be right to run away and leave Zexion behind. They'd both defend the other--wasn't that what lovers did? He never removed his eyes from Xaldin's cold face, much as he would have loved to, and clutched his gun even tighter, though his palms were now slick with sweat.
Xaldin looked as if he'd been fighting for some time--his long dark coat was ripped in spots, and his face...the lower half of his face, from his mouth to his chin, was gloved with shockingly crimson blood. He'd only just fed. His purple eyes were narrowed, glittering with macabre delight.
Oh, dear fucking lord in heaven. He was even more frightening than ever before. Demyx suppressed the sudden urge to pee in his pants.
"Well, well, well," Xaldin said, gazing intently at Zexion and then Demyx. "What do we have here?"
"Dilan," Zexion said, his voice strained. "If--if you do not wish to get hurt, then you will--will step aside."
Xaldin chuckled darkly. "Step aside? What nonsense is this? You think you can do something against me, little incubus? When I've felled far more impressive fighters than you?"
He stepped to the side and swept an arm beside him, gesturing directly towards--towards--
Marluxia. Demyx could only tell that the body was Marluxia because of the pinkish hair spread messily over the floor, and the broken pieces of a scythe laying helter-skelter atop his body. The rest of him was a mess of crimson blood, tattered cloth, glistening bone--it was a good thing his hair was covering his face, because Demyx really didn't want to see--he thought he saw an eyeball twitching on the ground next to the body--
Nausea rose in his throat; his knees felt ready to give way. "N-no, no, no, no, no--"
Zexion had gone paler as well, though he remained resolute. "That--don't think you can scare us with that."
"Can I? I think it speaks for itself," Xaldin said. "He was very strong, I will have to admit. One of the strongest I have faced. It took quite a bit to finally kill him...but that was very worth it. His blood was delicious."
"Y-you, you sick bastard!" Demyx squeaked. Reacting on instinct, he raised his gun and immediately popped off three shots directly towards Xaldin's chest.
Xaldin didn't bother to dodge the bullets, and it didn't matter because he didn't do anything besides flinch slightly when the bullets thudded into his chest and sent out a spray of dark blood. Strangely, seeing that flinch comforted Demyx in the most bizarre way. Saix and Xemnas hadn't reacted in the slightest to getting peppered with bullets. That Xaldin had showed that he was indeed weaker than them. Perhaps even defeatable...
Although the hope of that was very remote indeed. Demyx did his best to avoid glancing at Marluxia's corpse.
"Silly little toy," Xaldin said with a sighing exhalation. "I would have thought you would have learned not to do try that. Then again, you never did seem very bright..."
"We won't let you pass, rest assured," Zexion hissed, sinking into a crouch, his claws extended. "After that--after that--"
"Why should you care?" Xaldin said dispassionately. "He was a slayer. You should be rejoicing at his death...but then again, you are a traitor, Ienzo..."
"Silence," Zexion said, his voice quavering slightly. "That is not my name--"
"Really? But that is the name that you gave to me..." Xaldin stepped closer to Zexion, so that there were less than two feet between them. Fear spiked in Demyx's stomach--he had to something, something to protect Zexion, but his body couldn't move. He felt numb, as if his muscles had turned to ice.
Not now, not now not now not now! Don't freeze up--
A screech and a ruffle of feathers. Xaldin roared and stumbled back, clutching his hands to his face, upon which five bright red gashes had been opened up. Mephistopheles dove towards him again, screeching a battle cry, her talons extended.
Roaring inarticulately, Xaldin swiped at the air and his massive hand closed around Mephistopheles' body as if she were a baseball. The raven screeched a protest and tried to escape, but Xaldin tightened his grip, crushing and crushing, his eyes burning with savagery--Demyx heard popping and crunching--
Xaldin opened his hand and a limp ball of feathers fell towards the ground. It lay there, forlorn and unmoving, and soaked with blood.
"N-no...no..." Zexion whispered, kneeling in front of his fallen familiar. "No--no--Mephistopheles!"
"What an annoyance," Xaldin said with a scowl, wiping the blood away from his face. "I shouldn't have expected better from an incubus' familiar, of course..."
"You bastard, you bastard," Zexion said feverishly, lunging towards Xaldin. He sank his claws into the startled vampire's forearm and leaned forward as if he intended to rip out Xaldin's throat with his teeth--but Xaldin backhanded him dispassionately, sending his head rocking backwards like a bobblehead doll. Demyx squeaked in worried terror; the squeak became a scream when Xaldin shoved Zexion against the wall, clamping him in place by the throat.
"So silly," Xaldin said. "It was only a familiar...there is no need to be so sentimental. Such weakness doesn't befit a vampire, even a pathetic incubus like you."
"R-release me, release me," Zexion gasped, thrashing and writhing in Xaldin's grip, trying futilely to throw it off. "I'm w-warning you--"
"Warning me?" Xaldin lowered his voice to a silky whisper. "What can you do to me? Don't give threats that you can't back up, dear little Ienzo..."
He leaned close to Zexion, moving one hand to Zexion's face and stroking, once, twice. Zexion shivered and flinched and tried to draw away, but that just resulted in him bumping his head against the wall. Chuckling slightly, Xaldin flicked his tongue out and licked the underside of Zexion's jaw, before clamping his mouth there, sucking with unabashed pleasure...Zexion whimpered and shook his head, trying to dislodge Xaldin.
"Oh please, please, please--no! No, no--" His protests reached a fever pitch as Xaldin moved his hand down to Zexion's shirt, lifting the thin material to expose the snowy white expanse of his chest and stomach. Xaldin removed his mouth from Zexion's jaw, only to pull Zexion into a fierce and entirely one-sided kiss, all the while he ghosted his fingers down the exposed skin of Zexion's torso, leaving behind little pinkish marks where he prodded with his claws--Zexion was whimpering into Xaldin's mouth, writhing and squirming but unable to find any escape--
Sick horror and self-hatred rose inside Demyx. Here he was, just sitting back and watching his lover get violated. Helpless. No--he wouldn't accept it. He had to do something, anything--
He lifted the gun, his hands shaking, and shot directly at the back of Xaldin's head.
Xaldin roared, his head snapping back as if he'd been hit with a hammer. Not a hammer, though, but a bullet--a brilliant crimson hole appeared in the back of his head, perfect and round and dripping icy blood. It wasn't enough to kill him, but it was clear that that shot had injured him more than any before. He staggered back, releasing Zexion; the incubus slid limply against the wall like an empty sack, eyes wide in disbelief.
"D-damn you," Xaldin growled, whirling around to face Demyx. His expression was completely feral now, without a hint of intelligence. He looked, Demyx realized with a jolt of cold surprise, exactly like the monstrous made vampires to which Demyx was more accustomed.
Strangely that thought comforted Demyx. He saw now that Xaldin really wasn't anything special, wasn't much different and better than other vampires. In the end, he pretty much was a mindless monster. Demyx hefted his gun again, aiming it at Xaldin's forehead.
"You hurt him, you answer to me," he said.
"You dare--you dare--you dare--you pathetic human!" Xaldin roared, stomping straight towards Demyx, his claws extended--Demyx gasped and stumbled backwards.
And bumped into something squishy. A vine, thicker than the rest, spread across the floor. He squeaked and then screamed aloud when he saw that he was standing right next to a massive thorn that had impaled straight through a made vampire. Blood was splattered all over the vine, staining its dark green surface like blots of ink.
He had no idea what he was doing, contemplating the vine while Xaldin advanced towards him--by all means he should just vault over the vine and put it between him and Xaldin. But when he'd bumped against the vine, he'd felt--something. He could only explain it as a hot burst of rage. And the vine had moved a little, jerking away from his foot...
They were furious, the vines. He swept his eyes around the entire hall in sick wonder. The vines were all moving now, wriggling and writhing and snaking down the walls and across the floor, towards--towards Xaldin.
They wanted revenge. For their master's death. And somehow...Demyx had given them impetus.
"Demyx! What are you doing, just standing there--" Zexion shouted, surging forward,
Demyx paid no heed to any of them anymore, neither Zexion nor Xaldin. As Xaldin dove towards him, bringing back his hand as if he meant to impale Demyx with his claws, Demyx nimbly leapt over the thickest vine. This position left him somewhat more vulnerable, since it trapped in the tiny piece of floor between the vine and the wall--a perfect target for Xaldin. Zexion seemed to recognize this and screamed something that sounded like Demyx's name.
But Demyx wasn't worried. Far from it. For as Xaldin approached, the vine moved, lashing towards the vampire like an enormous snake. Xaldin cried out in surprised indignity as the thick vine wrapped around his legs, sending him off balance. He crashed face-first on the floor with an impact that shook the hallway.
Xaldin immediately writhed and cursed, trying to throw off the vine. But more vines were coming, descending on him in a deluge of writhing green, their long thorns glistening with purplish liquid--poison. More and more and more, coming to avenge their fallen master. They wrapped around the thrashing vampire, digging their thorns into his body, tightening and constricting around him until he was no longer visible--he was cocooned in vines.
And still, against all odds and reason, he fought. He must have been impaled by at least five poisoned thorns by now, and more vines were coming by the minute to wrap around him, yet he continued to thrash and snarl inarticulately--sometimes he managed to momentarily free his arms or legs from the vines, and once even managed to free his head. The vines, Demyx realized with a dull sinking feeling, weren't enough.
Xaldin was truly a powerful vampire. Perhaps not on Xemnas and Saix's level, but he was still indeed too great a threat for just the masterless vines to subdue.
Demyx raised his gun and fired a few shots into the writhing mass, taking care to shoot only when some of Xaldin was revealed, to minimize the risk of shooting the vines--he certainly didn't want them to turn against him!
Blood arced in the air after Demyx's shots and Xaldin's roars died into choked gurgles. Hope leapt for a sudden second in Demyx's stomach--maybe this was working after all.
"No, no, no, no--" the vampire bellowed. "I will not--this is--impossible! I will not allow this! You're just--a human--slayers--dead--"
His voice died in a final extended gurgling exhalation, and then he went limp. For several seconds that stretched into a long eternity, Demyx stared at the now still mass of vines. They were leaking purple poison and dark blood, dripping in a puddle on the floor. At length, the vines lowered to the floor again, and one by one retreated, some of then unsticking their thorns with loud squelching noises.
Soon all the vines were gone, returned to their proper places on the walls and floor. Xaldin's corpse was all that remained, sprawled in the middle of the poison and blood puddle. He was so ruined as to be unrecognizable. Huge bloody holes, leaking little spurts of poison, were peppered throughout his body, where the thorns had stuck in. His limbs were spread this way and that in impossible angles, clearly broken. A bullet hole to his forehead was leaking blood in dark rivulets down his pale face, and his expression was frozen in a look of wide-eyed horror.
Dead...he was dead. The vampire who had kidnapped Demyx, who had--who had pretty much started this all. Demyx's head spun. Xaldin was dead. He, Demyx, had struck the killing blow.
He'd...he'd done it. He'd slain a pureblood vampire.
"Oh God...oh my God..." he whispered, feeling lightheaded and ill. "Oh God...I c-can't believe...I can't believe..."
He sank to his knees; one of the vines shuffled slightly to the left to allow him more room. He let out a choked little laugh. Even after death, Marluxia was looking out for him. "Oh God, oh God...thank you so much."
He heard a sharp gasp and then a little sob somewhere behind him. Alarmed, Demyx whirled around--to see that Zexion had fallen to his knees as well, in front of Mephistopheles' body. He'd wrapped his arms around his torso and had lowerd his head so that his hair was hiding his eyes from scrutiny, but he couldn't control the sobs shaking his thin frame.
"Zexy!" Demyx cried in concern, stumbling towards his lower. "Zexy--it's all right, it's, it's all right, he's gone now..."
Or was Zexion grieving Mephistopheles' death? That struck Demyx as a little bit over-the-top for Zexion, of all people. He didn't think that the incubus cared about anyone enough to cry when they died, and certainly not like this...
"Zexy? What's the matter?" Demyx said softly, resting his hand on Zexion's shoulder. The incubus turned sharply and looked up towards him. His face was paler than usual and his eyes were wide and his mouth was quivering. A shining line of tears ran from the corner of his exposed eye down his cheek. Demyx reached out and wiped away Zexion's tears, patting Zexion affectionately with the hand on his shoulder.
"D-Demyx," Zexion managed to say.
"Zexion, tell me," Demyx said. "What's the matter? Is it--is it 'cause Mephistopheles is dead--"
Zexion shook his head and coughed skeptically. "Hardly. Well, that--it is...a part of it."
"Really? Then what..."
"It...it's nothing r-really, it's just I...I just feel so...so fucking useless," Zexion said in a savage whisper, turning away from Demyx again. "Useless. Y-you...you could do it, could do something, even Mephistopheles...but I...I just...I shrank back. Froze. Did nothing. I let him--if you hadn't, if it wasn't for you, he'd have--he'd have--he--"
His voice broke at the end, trailing off into a little whimper. He was fingering the front of his shirt, perhaps remembering how Xaldin had almost violated him. Sympathy rose within Demyx, and he draped an arm around Zexion's shoulder, pulling the incubus in close. Zexion unleashed a shuddering gasp but leaned closer to Demyx as well, resting his head on Demyx's shoulder. He felt nice and soft and delightfully cool. Zexion.
"It's all right, Zexion," Demyx said. "You're not useless. I swear, you're not. Everyone--everyone has moments of indecision." A dry laugh. "I should know."
"All the same," Zexion murmured. "All the same...I shouldn't have. I shouldn't...I told myself I would be the one protecting you."
"What, it can't work both ways?" Demyx said gently.
"I...I guess...but I, I promise, Demyx. I won't freeze up like this again. I promise." When he looked back up, his eyes were flashing and his mouth was set in a firm line of conviction. The tears were still shimmering on his face but he hadn't shed any more.
"I understand," Demyx said, reaching out and stroking the sides of Zexion's face, reveling in the cool softness of the vampire's skin. "It's okay. Come on, Zexy. Let's go..."
"Right." Zexion jerked his head in a nod. Demyx stood and extended a hand towards the incubus; Zexion took it wordlessly. They remained holding hands even as they stood and began walking down the hall, taking care to avoid Xaldin's corpse.
As they passed Marluxia's body, Demyx felt a strange sense of wrongness. It didn't feel right to just leave the fallen slayer where he was. He had died a hero, fighting a vampire. To leave him lying there with his weapon broken all over him, like a piece of carrion, felt like the ultimate disrespect.
"Wait," Demyx said, tugging on Zexion's hand to get him to stop. Zexion threw him a brief annoyed glance.
"What is it?"
"Marluxia...I mean, do you think it's...I just don't think we should leave him there. Like that," Demyx said.
"Demyx, I highly doubt you'd want to touch that," Zexion snapped, gesturing towards Marluxia's battered corpse. Demyx stared at it, at the puddle of blood spreading beneath it, the various squishy shapes--organs?--scattered around it, and gulped.
"Well, I still think that we should try to give him a proper burial," Demyx insisted. "At least, for Larxene's sake--"
"We haven't got time to do such a thing," Zexion said.
"But still--"
Zexion sighed, his expression softening. "We'll come back to him, Demyx. For now, we have to...we have to get going...that's the best way, I think, to avenge his death. Stopping Xemnas. Wouldn't you agree?"
Demyx couldn't argue with that kind of logic. Nonetheless, even as he followed Zexion down the hallway, he couldn't help but throw one last glance at Marluxia. The fallen warrior, dead in the midst of his plants.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Xemnas paced back and forth in his office, his hands folded behind his back, focusing on nothing in particular.
He could sense the battle raging outside his cloistered office walls, but didn't focus overly much on it. He trusted Saix and Xaldin and all of his lieutenants. They would fight, and they would win. That was a foregone conclusion.
The other slayers were all distractions, nothing more. They would fall eventually. Perhaps not instantaneously--he had to admit they possessed some skill--but in the end none of them would succeed. How could they defeat the vampires of the most powerful coven in the world? They were barely anything to Saix and Xaldin--and they counted as nothing at all to Xemnas.
No. There was only one opponent who could give him a worthy challenge. Only one about whom he was concerned.
He sensed the presence then, the familiar scent of overwhelming darkness that he'd first encountered that fateful night in the plaza. This time, however, Xemnas didn't allow himself to become overwhelmed in fear and confusion as he had then. Now he knew who he was facing--not some frightening monster from the dark. Simply his old mentor, dressed up differently but as foolish and incompetent as ever.
Xemnas could defeat him easily.
The door opened, seemingly on its own. Xemnas hid the urge to chuckle. So it seemed that Ansem was trying to show off his powers. As if that'd intimidate Xemnas! Opening doors psionically was quite a useful ability, yes, but it would never win anyone any fights.
Ansem himself then stepped through the door.
He stood there in his new guise, in the blood-colored robes that flowed resplendently around his form, his face mostly hidden by bandages of the same material. He stood calmly with his hands clasped in front of him, but his amber eyes were cold with a fierce, deadly resolve. A resolve that Xemnas had only once before seen from Ansem, the night when he had fought and--or so he had believed--killed his former mentor.
"Greetings, Master Ansem," Xemnas said in a tone of deep irony. "What brings you here tonight?"
"I have no time for games," Ansem said, stepping forward. "Tonight, I promise you--I will put an end to your madness."
Xemnas chuckled darkly. "I would like to see you try, my dear teacher."
"Believe me," Ansem said, his eyes flashing, "I will."
Another spray of icy blood. Another dull thud as another made vampire impacted the floor. Another bout of snarling and roaring from its comrades, who surged forward--
Axel shot expertly at them with two guns, sending them stumbling back and falling from mortal injuries. Back-to-back with him, grim-faced, was Roxas, who was holding his own firing shots into the mob. From their combined efforts, more and more vampires fell.
Yet it wasn't enough. More vampires simply came pouring in to fill the gaps left by their fallen fellows. It seemed that every time Axel and Roxas took out one, two more took its place. Axel wasn't in any danger of running out of ammo anytime soon--and in any event, he'd perfected his ability at rapid-fire reloading--but his arms were getting tired from constantly firing the gun and the injuries he'd sustained fighting, including a particularly nasty gash on his shoulder, were slowing him down.
He would keep on fighting, though. Fighting this army of grunts--until they led to the real target. To Xemnas.
The Cross of the Kingdom helped somewhat. The vampires tended to keep a clear berth from it, giving him a good range from which he could shoot. Sometimes when they got too close, they actually staggered back, roaring in pain and rage from the cross' protective spells.
But the cross had a negative side as well. Axel was trying to keep back-to-back with Roxas, so that they could better cover more area when it came to shooting the vampires, but he couldn't because of the cross on his back. If it made skin contact with Roxas...hell, Roxas might even die if that happened. Already, he was pale and his eyes bloodshot and he was barely standing upright, though he did his best to put up a strong front. Whenever he came too close to Axel--too close to the cross--he would double over as if racked with pain, and stumble blindly forward in an effort to avoid the pain.
Seeing Roxas like this hurt Axel beyond imagination. He could tell himself however much he wanted that Roxas wasn't a vampire, but that didn't make it truth. He wished it, desperately. That Roxas had never gotten drawn into Zexion's insidious workings. That he could still be the good-natured street boy whom he had first taken in, not this bitter half-made vampire.
Axel could deny it, but not when it was staring him directly in the face as it was now. He knew. He knew what Roxas was--and that was why he couldn't stay close to the boy. Not if he wanted Roxas to live...
However much longer he has to live. Axel knew full well the lifespan--or lack thereof--of a half-made vampire. Once again, as he did often, he mentally cursed Zexion to a thousand eternities in hell.
Something dove free of the roiling mass of pasty faces and claws and blood--something huge and furry and snarling. Axel bellowed inarticulately and fired off two shots at the diving form. Squealing, the wolf hit the concrete in front of Axel's foot, gushing hot blood onto the already well-stained floor.
Werewolves. Shit. More were appearing, slinking one by one out of the crowd of made vampires. There were far fewer of them than the made vampires, but that didn't matter because one werewolf possessed the intelligence of ten made vampires, if not more. Nine of them formed a circle around Axel and Roxas, glaring at the two slayers with fierce golden eyes.
"Okay, okay, we get it," Axel said roughly. "We're cornered. Now, where the hell is your pack leader?"
"Right here, Axel," Saix said, and stepped through the mob of vampires. He locked eyes with Axel and a feral smirk unlike any Axel had seen from him before sliced his face in two. "As I recall, I have yet to exact revenge on you for killing two of my pack members..."
"Revenge up your ass," Axel quipped--and fired three shots, one after another, directly at Saix's heart.
He's the new hope of the La Monte family, or so they say. Father can't resist reminding him of that, every opportunity he can get. He places his hands on Axel's shoulders and tells him that the family will be his one day. He'll show them all, those Strifes and Marchens and Florezes. He'll show them just which family is the best at vampire slaying.
It's a bit of a burden for an six-year-old but Axel doesn't mind. He wants to be the best too. He's seen Father and Mother fight and he wishes that he could be just like them. Just as calm and in control. Just as capable of delivering cool one-liners. That's why he practices so intently, every day. Drilling in the decapacitation and staking methods. Practicing warding and blessing spells.
One day he'll get to fight a vampire for real. He hopes that day will come very soon.
Axel had lost Saix in the crowd. He was certain the werewolf wasn't dead--hell, Saix had taken plenty more shots than that in their last meeting--but for the life of him, even as he scanned the milling mob of dark-clothed, pasty-skinned, blood-stained vampires, he couldn't find a single hint of pale blue fur.
There were plenty other werewolves about, howling and leaping at him--one of them had clamped on to his elbow, biting so hard he had cut through to the bone. Axel had killed the werewolf by swinging his arm around so that the wolf slammed against the Cross of the Kingdom (it seemed the cross worked equally as well on werewolves as it did on vampires), but his arm was bleeding copiously. The improvised tourniquet he'd made was rapidly falling apart in the heat of battle; he could no longer use that arm at all, so he had to settle for shooting with one gun.
He heard a strangled cry in the near distance--a cry that was horrifying because it was so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. Roxas' voice, yet raised to a pitch of panic and agony unlike any he'd head before from the boy. Immediately Axel abandoned his search for Saix and dashed towards the source of Roxas' voice, shooting aside any vampires or wolves who got in his way.
Roxas' shouts reached a fever pitch. "Axel--"
"Hang in there, Roxas! I'm coming!" Axel howled, hoping with all his heart that Roxas could hear him over the general pandemonium. "I'm coming!"
People tell him that he's handling his parents' death well, especially for a kid his age. Only nine years old and his mother and father are dead. Killed by a pureblood vampire.
The thing is, Axel has always known that his parents would die in the line of duty someday. That was one of the first things they'd ever impressed on him. Their own mortality. Most slayers died in battle, that was just something they all accepted. Axel hadn't been expecting his parents to die at the same time, but he'd spent a long time steeling himself to accept their eventual deaths, anyhow.
So he doesn't cry or grieve in front of anyone, just tries to arrange the running of the family manor as best a kid like him can. He has help, of course, but he makes it clear that he's the master of the manor. The heir of his parents' everything. Only at night when he visits his parents' graves and delivers them flowers does he let himself feel it, and never for long.
Roxas lay on his back on the ground, groaning in pain, still resolutely clutching his gun. He couldn't aim it, though, because his eyes were squeezed tightly shut--from pain.
Saix, in his wolf form, was gnawing on Roxas' leg from the knee downwards. Blood was dripping from his maw and he was making horrible crunching and munching noises--there was so much blood, spreading in a pool beneath Roxas' leg--Roxas' face was pale with strain, beads of sweat were standing out against his skin--occasionally he let loose with long, high-pitched cries of agony--
Rage and worry and self-hatred coalesced in one inside Axel. How dare Saix--how could this happen--this was his fault--
He shot blindly, not thinking about what he was doing at all. His bullets opened up scarlet holes on Saix's flank but still the horrible werewolf continued chomping on Roxas' leg, in fact chomped with renewed fervor. Axel was roaring and bellowing, screaming inarticulate things, cursing Saix, cursing Zexion, cursing himself, cursing the whole damned world--
More shots he fired at Saix, until nothing came from his gun but an empty click when he pressed the trigger. In rage, he dove towards the blue wolf, who kept on munching, kept on chewing, kept on tearing bits of flesh from Roxas's leg--from Roxas--Roxas--
He wrapped his working hand around the wolf's neck and squeezed, feeling the bones crunch beneath his fingers, smelling nothing but the wolf's hideous musk stench. He snarled and panted and tried to yank the wolf's heavy body off his lover, but Saix absolutely refused to let go. He barely seemed to be registering Axel's presence in the slightest.
"Dammit--damn you--" Axel was screaming, almost sobbing. "Get off him, get off, get off--"
The kid is called Demyx. The little blonde kid with the big blue eyes. He doesn't look much different from any little kid his age, but there still seems to be something a little off about him. Maybe it's because his eyes don't have that sort of clear and innocent look to them that most kids have. There's something...closed...about them. Like he's staring into a wall, not a clear pool.
Axel doesn't mind, though. Demyx's eyes remind him of his own. Hell, Demyx reminds him of himself. The kid watched his parents die. His parents fell to a vampire. Just like Axel's did.
"I think you should be my student," he tells Demyx.
Demyx nods, and says with whispered conviction, "Yeah."
Saix had finally released Roxas. It had taken Axel slamming the gun directly into the back of his head--apparently, even Saix couldn't handle that much concentrated silver--but he'd done it. Now the Saix-wolf was facing him, hackles raised, snarling. His muzzle was stained with blood and bloodied saliva was dripping from his open mouth, coating his teeth. Piezes of flesh were still stuck between his teeth...
Axel didn't want to look. He didn't want to look at the mangled mess that Roxas' leg had become. He didn't want--he didn't want any of that. He just wanted to focus on protecting Roxas, or whatever was left of Roxas. On defeating Saix...
That was just him being in denial again, wasn't it? Refusing to face a sordid truth. Roxas wasn't going to survive, no matter what he did--
Don't be such a damned defeatist! Don't--never doubt. Never doubt. That's what they taught you, your parents. NEVER DOUBT.
I am always right. In all my actions, in all my thoughts. Everything I do is justified. Because I am...because I am me.
A vampire slayer. Axel La Monte. I AM ALWAYS JUSTIFIED.
"Damn you to fucking hell!" Axel bellowed, and charged towards Saix, swinging the Cross of the Kingdom.
Axel is glad that Demyx can't see him. He stands in the middle of the plaza on this moonless night, gazing at the inky sky, his hands gloved with freezing, rapidly-drying blood.
The vampire--or what is left of it--lies at his feet. He killed it methodically. Not the way his parents had taught him, but the way that felt right. He hacked off its arms and legs. Then its head. Then cut its torso into pieces. Then ripped out its heart and drove a silver-tipped stake through it. The vampire is dead. The pureblood vampire that took his parents' lives.
It took him three years to exact his revenge, but he doesn't mind. He got it. He is now a true vampire slayer, a man.
So why...why...why is he so ashamed of letting Demyx know?
Saix roared, staggering under Axel's onslaught. Axel attacked him like he'd never attacked anyone before. Viciously lashing back and forth with the Cross, slamming it into the wolf's fur until the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils, displacing even Saix's musk stench, until the blinding light of the spells woven into the silver filled his vision, displacing everything--
He didn't care anymore, about anything. About anything except for Roxas, lying injured and unmoving only feet from him. Roxas--for Roxas--anything--always justified, he was always justified--to do this--
Blood sprayed in the air as Axel whapped Saix across the jaw with the cross. Broken pieces of something hard and white--like shattered pearls--clattered against the floor. Teeth.
Saix leapt up in, snarling in rage, his tongue lolling out, spitting blood and fury. Pain shot through Axel's chest as Saix's claws raked across his chest, but he was barely conscious of the pain. It was piddling compared to the agony Roxas must be in. If anything, it only incensed him.
He lurched towards Saix again but Saix was faster. An impact like a freight train slammed into the backs of his knees, sending him pitching forward on his face. He yelled as he impacted the cold, blood-streaked concrete, unable to get up because Saix's oppressive weight was on his back, pinning him down--Saix was scratching him, raking him with his claws, over and over again--Axel felt flesh tearing, blood streaking down his skin--felt hot bursts of pain--
It didn't matter, it didn't matter, none of it mattered. Roxas. Roxas was all that mattered. He wouldn't let down Roxas, never would never would. Would never let down Roxas as he had let down Demyx.
He tightened his grip around the Cross of the Kingdom, and it flared anew with white light, blinding him and harming Saix, if the wolf's howl of pain was anything to go by. It was enough of a diversion for Axel to twist his arm over his shoulder and whip the Cross out behind him. He heard the satisfactory dull thunk as the silver impacted Saix's fur, heard Saix's howl reach a fever pitch--
It was nothing the wolf didn't deserve. And there would be more, so much more, coming.
Demyx is in tears when they get home. Axel does his best to comfort the younger boy, reassure him everything's all right even when it isn't. He pats Demyx on the back, offers him hollow reassurances. "Don't worry so much, everyone messes up the first time..." But Demyx's disappointment is palpable. The instant they return to the manor, Demyx stalks off to his room and slams the door behind him, not even bothering to hand his blood-stained jacket to the butler. Axel, concerned, stands outside Demyx's door for some time, listening to the younger boy. Listening to him sob and whimper and gasp. Axel has never heard anyone so miserable before.
And worst of all, he knows it's his fault. For setting such a high example for Demyx. He was twelve when he made his first pureblood kill, not much older than Demyx is now. Naturally Demyx would expect to catch up to his mentor...but it's impossible. Not just because Axel has years more experience.
It's because...of something neither of them can change. That's not all right, but Axel can't do anything about it.
Axel stood above Saix's limp form, breathing hard, conscious of nothing but the Cross clutched tightly in one hand. The Cross, and the wolf.
Saix wasn't dead yet, Axel could tell--his chest was still regularly rising and falling, though much more slowly than it had been before. He could hardly tell that the wolf had once been blue-furred; whatever inch of fur wasn't left blackened by the Cross was soaked red with blood. One of his legs and quite a few of his ribs were broken.
He would die soon, whether or not Axel struck him a finishing blow. Not that Axel was in the best of conditions, either. The wounds Saix had left behind on his body weren't deep, but they were dripping a lot of blood. A lot of blood. Most of the blood staining the concrete floor wasn't Saix's but his own; he was already starting to feel dizzy, lightheaded. Weak. But he couldn't give in, not now. He had Roxas...Roxas to attend to. Roxas was in so much worse a condition than he was. If Roxas could handle it, then he could too.
"Rox..." Axel murmured, turning contemptuously away from Saix and taking tentative step after tenative step towards his lover. Towards Roxas, limp on the other side of the room--as limp as Saix. Unmoving. Laying in a puddle of his own blood.
Roxas. Axel's throat tightened. No. He couldn't--he wouldn't let this happen. Everything always worked out for him, because he never doubted. He believed in his own strength, and that strength would save Roxas. It would, it would have to, or else--or else--or everything would have been--
Everything would have been a lie.
One early morning Axel finds himself lying beside Demyx, both stark naked and sweat-soaked and the sheets a tangled mess around them. He can't even think to regret anything, can't think at all--when he tries to grasp what happened it slips from his mind like sand from an open hand. No, not slips, but rather...he's afraid to face it. The enormity of it all. How could he have done that? Yet here he is, lying by his student after a passionate night together and he doesn't feel anything, particularly, except for a strange contentment that he can't explain. Nor does he really want to. Slowly he turns to face Demyx, taking in the boy's sweet and content face, his tan skin so unlike Axel's own pallor, blond strands drifting in front of closed eyes. He's dreaming, and they seem to be happy dreams.
Axel doesn't dare disturb those dreams. He turns to the side, stares out of the window. Thinks for a while. "That's okay with me, then," he says. "That you're here, and I'm here--and that's all that matters."
"Axel...Ax...el...ohh...please..." Roxas groaned. Axel could see the pain it was causing him just to enunciate those simple words; he was shaking, paler than anyone Axel had seen before. Not even the typical pallor of a vampire, but something beyond that--a whiteness that reminded Axel of untouched snow. The whiteness of death.
He sank to his knees in front of Roxas, forced himself to stare at Roxas' injured leg. Saix had...Saix had chewed him down to the bone. Much of the flesh had been torn off in great chunks--what was left behind was nothing but a mangled mess of muscle and tendon and blood, so much blood. Blood shockingly red, spreading everywhere, staining the bone a deep, deep crimson.
Tears blurred Axel's vision; he let them fall, trailing hot and stinging down his face. But that was just a minor pain, an inconvenience, compared to the pain Roxas must be in. Roxas was...Roxas was...
Dying.
No! Don't! Don't you dare admit it. It's not true. He won't die! You can save him still, you know you can--don't let him down--you can do it, YOU can do it! Who are you again?
Nobody.
He had the power to prevent his own death, but never the deaths of those most precious. His mother. His father. His lover. They would all fall and he'd be powerless to stop them. The tears came harder, but he forced himself to be calm. To not sob. He was sure there had to be something--anything--he could do...
"Roxas, you'll be fine, got it memorized? You'll be fine, oh you'll be fine, just keep talking to me, kiddo, keep talking...please, stay awake, stay awake. You'll be fine..."
He didn't believe at all what he was saying, but he knew he had to. It was essential. Otherwise, the house of cards he'd long built for himself--the house made up of lies and denial, always denial, would come crashing down around him, and he would have...nothing. No Roxas. No Demyx. No one. Just himself, and he didn't want to be left in such horrible company.
"Stay with me, Roxas," he whispered, clutching Roxas' icy hand, squeezing it tightly as if he hoped to infuse it with his own warmth. "Just--stay with me. Oh Roxas..."
"You have no power. None. There is nothing you can do. Isn't that what you're afraid of? You're such a big strong slayer, with your stakes and silver bullets. You can do anything, can't you?"
The incubus whispers into his ear, his voice low and intoxicating. Like poisoned wine. He ghosts his pale fingers down Axel's bare chest, raising goosebumps; he's snaked his body around Axel's so that his mouth is right next to Axel's ear. Sometimes, between the cold bursts of whispered words, he flicks his tongue over the shell of Axel's ear, making the half-asleep slayer tremble.
"That's what you're afraid of. Letting them down. The ones you care about...you're afraid, aren't you? That you're impotent. That you lack the power to protect them as you know they would protect you. All this power, my dear slayer, and you can't use it for anything constructive. Pitiful thing..."
He is right. Every word. And that's why, later, he punishes Zexion so badly for it. Because if he doesn't take his anger out on Zexion, all that will happen is that it will turn inwards. Towards himself. He can't handle that. Not yet. Him, who is always justified. Him, for whom things always turn out the right way.
Zexion is wrong. He is right. That's all there is to it.
"Axel...please...it's...o...okay..." Roxas whispered. His hand had gone slack in Axel's; in a fit of terror, Axel clung on tighter. No, he had to make sure Roxas was still here, still alive... "Y-you can...let go...now..."
"No! Never, I'll never let go! Never, never, never, got it fucking memorized?" Axel wasn't shouting so much as sobbing, his voice raw and high-pitched in desperation. "You'll be fine, we'll just get this patched up--"
"Axel." Roxas laughed, a short, rough little laugh that was more like a series of harsh wheezes. "Oh, please...don't de...delude yourself. You know...even if it wasn't for...this...I would be...I would die soon...anyway...half-made, you know..."
"You're not a vampire," Axel sobbed, brokenly. Hating himself, because he knew he was speaking a lie. "You're not..."
"Say that...if it makes...you feel better..." A sad smile was shining in Roxas' blue eyes, those beautiful blue eyes which Axel couldn't get enough of. "You're...very good at that...Axel...pretending...the bad things...don't exist...but..."
"You're not dying! Shut up!"
"I...I am. Saying th-that...I won't...that won't...accomplish...anything. You can't pretend...that I...I won't..."
"Is it really all pretend?" Axel said, his voice barely breaking a whisper. "Really? My feelings for you, even? Is that pretend? Fucking tell me! I've never loved anyone like I love you, dammit. How is that pretend?"
"It's...not..." Roxas said. "I know...it isn't...pretend. But sometimes...you...I don't think you...want to accept...the more unpleasant things. I...am...a vampire. And I...am...going...to die."
"How can you say it like that?" Axel said. "So calmly? You can't--you can't accept it! I'm telling you, I won't allow it--"
"You're...just a man...Axel..."
"I am not! I'm the heir of the La Monte family, got it fucking memorized? I can do anything--anything--because of who I am. I won't stop for...for something stupid like death, and you're not dying, anyway! Anything, I swear, Roxas, anything--"
"No...y...you can't..." Roxas' eyes fell shut for a heart-stopping second, but thankfully he soon opened them. "You can't...stop it...please, Axel. For me...a last request? Please...?"
"Anything, Roxas," Axel said again, pressing his face to Roxas' chest, ignoring how cold the boy's skin was through his shirt, ignoring the lack of a heartbeat... "Anything, anything for you. Just so long as I don't lose you."
Like I lost my parents. Like I lost Demyx. Hell...like I lost Zexion.
"Oh...Axel..." Another broken laugh from Roxas. He'd moved his hand so that it was resting on the back of Axel's neck, gently playing with the strands of hair there. "Promise me...just this one time...remove your blindfold."
"What blindfold? What the fuck are you talking about? Don't be going insane on me now, please--"
"I'm...not. I'm...just saying...just this once...let yourself see...the truth. As it...is, not as it...should be." Roxas coughed slightly, but went on with firm conviction. "See...it. And...accept it. You're...not...very...good...at that. This time...please..."
"I can't, I won't," Axel sobbed, squeezing Roxas' hand tighter. "I don't want to. I hate the truth. I hate it, I hate it I hate it! You don't understand. This world fucking sucks, the way it is. I l-like it better, the way it ought to be. That's better. I don't want to see what's in front of me, all the pain and shit and fucking misery--I want to see, I want to see, you and me, both humans, both happy...I want to see Demyx happy too, I want Zexion to have never happened, I want, I want, I want..."
"You can't...have that...Axel."
"I know! I know! But I want it, I want it. I hate the truth," Axel whimpered. He knew he was being pathetic and he was scaring even himself--this was the first time he'd ever admitted his real feelings, because before he always kept them suppressed. As part of, hell, the inconvenient truth of the world that he didn't want to face. He would rather prefer maintaining his daily delusion.
Because if he didn't...then that meant he would have to see him as he really was. A failure. A man who'd let down his parents and every student he'd ever taken in. A man who had truly done nothing right in the space of his life. His parents were moldering under cold earth because of him. Demyx was completely fucked up in the head because of him. Roxas was...Roxas was a vampire because of him.
It was so much easier clinging to the world in which he was always right and justified, and everything wrong was that stupid incubus' fault. But Zexion had been right, all along, and conversely--Axel had always been wrong. Always.
"Don't die. I don't want you to die. I don't want to lose you. I love you, Roxas. I want you to live forever, just you and me..." He was shaking from his sobs, clinging so tightly to Roxas he knew he was hurting the boy, but he didn't care anymore. He never wanted to let go.
"I--I know, Axel. I know...I...I love you...too. But we can't...have that...never could."
"Please, if you leave me I'll be all alone--"
"You won't..." Roxas smiled briefly, but so lovingly. "Demyx...you'll have Demyx...and everyone. Not just me..."
"But it's not the same!"
"I know...it's not. But wishing...doesn't change the way things...are. If I have...one last...wish for you...it would be...that you would know. That you would...see. Oh, Axel...it would just be...the gift of knowing...that you're wrong...and admitting it...and living with it...and being able to face...the world every day. My gift...to you...if I had the power to...I'd give you...that."
He gazed into Axel's eyes, still smiling, but now there was a painful aspect to that smile. And his eyes...they were filmed over with tears, shining in the dim warehouse light, but he resolutely refused to shed them.
"Goodbye, Axel," he said, his voice barely above a whisper--hell, barely above a breath. "I love you."
"I love you too, hell, I love you so much I--" Axel found himself choked on his sobs and couldn't continue; he had to swallow a painful lump down, several times, before he found his voice again. With each swallow he became increasingly conscious of time slipping by, leaving him alone--Roxas had only seconds left. He had to make the most of his remaining time... "I love you, I love you, even if--if we didn't know, even if we didn't even know each other that long, even if we realized too late--I still, I want to, I won't forget every moment we spent together. I promise. I'll remember...I'll commit you to my memory. Forever. Roxas."
"Axel," Roxas murmured, his eyelids drifting shut. "Hayner....Pence...Olette...Axel...Axel...Ax...el..."
His breath trailed off into a final sigh, and then he lay there, slumped and still and silent. His hand had gone completely limp. His skin was as white and cold as arctic ice.
Axel pulled Roxas closer to him, pressing the boy's face into his chest, holding him so tightly he was only seconds away from breaking Roxas' bones, but he didn't care, that didn't matter now. All that mattered was trying to, for one last, futile time, warm Roxas up, back from the iciness of death, the iciness of undeath, to the vibrant warmth that had coursed under his skin during his too-brief time as a living, breathing human being. He pressed Roxas' face right up to his heart, wanting Roxas, even now, to feel more than hear the violent thudding. To let it become his as well.
He clung to Roxas, clung to the cold dead truth, and screamed his lover's name to the warehouse rafters until he could scream no longer.
Yes, Roxas is dead.
Whew, that AkuRoku scene took a lot out of me. I hate AkuRoku so writing every second of it was excruciating. Still, I kind of do like the way it turned out--and hey, we finally get Axel's POV! I've been waiting to write from his perspective for a long, long time, because even as much as I dislike him I think he's the most interesting character in this story. In particular, I've been itching to really, in depth, explore his capacity for self-deception, which I think I handled very well here. Plus, he's got quite the "Never compromise, not even in the face of Armageddon" side to him. XD Although, Rorschach would wipe the floor with Axel and YOU KNOW IT.
The AkuRoku section was written to the Voice of the Future Sanctuary Remix, which you should all check out on Youtube because it's awesome. You know what else you should check out because it's awesome? That's right, my fictionpress.
Sorry about the lack of a preview, I'll get one up once I have a clearer idea what the next chapter will be like. =/
Keep those reviews coming! We're on the home stretch here! ^^