Hello! Here is Chapter Two!
Title: Ashes of Betrayal
Rating: M
Summary: This is my territory. It has always been, and it will never change. I have been excessively lenient while working with mortal powerhouses allowing their disgusting human stench to permeate the veil I work so hard to preserve. So why does this particular group, out of all the ones I have worked with, bother me so? They have been reckless enough to antagonize me...and they will not survive my wrath.
Warnings: Descriptions of Illnesses, Gore, Sadism, Masochism, Disturbing Thoughts and Images, Violence, Possible Schizophrenia
Enjoy!
Peter Burke woke with a start as his phone rang violently, too close to his ear for any form of comfort.
Glancing over at his wife, who merely sighed and turned over on her side, he groaned heavily and rolled over, taking the phone into his hand. "Hello?"
"Peter?" A hoarse, soft voice sounded, filled with a muted pain that was a bit too familiar.
Being careful not to disturb El, he sat up and ran a hand over his face. "Who is this and why are you calling me?"
A pained laugh sounded, husky and dry. "Oh, come on, Peter. You've been asleep long?"
"What—? Neal?" Rising to his feet, the FBI Agent walked silently out of the room, taking to sitting down on the couch. "What is it? Are you okay?"
There was a grunt as if the younger man was doing something strenuous or uncomfortable before his voice sounded again. "Fine, Peter, I'm—ah—fine. Just can't...can't sleep, is all. Wanted someone to talk to."
"Well, you sound horrible. Have you been recovering at all?" Deep brown eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Has Mozzie been letting you work? I swear if I get my hands around that guy's throat—"
"Relax, Peter. I've been doing nothing, just like you ordered." Neal sounded extraordinarily weary, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and the burden was becoming too much for him to bear. "I'm not really in the mood to do anything, either. Hurts too much."
Peter frowned, muscles rippling as he shifted in his seat. "Hurts too much? Have you been to the doctor? Could they figure out what was wrong?"
"Mmm-hmm." Burke could all but see that mischievous grin on the con man's pale face. "Hurts too much, remember? I can—can barely talk to you right now." A heavy moan sent static crackling over the line, followed by deep silence.
"Neal?" Peter sat up straighter when there was no response. "Neal, what is it? What's wrong?"
There was another moment of noiselessness, but then a strangled cough sounded. "S-Sorry, Peter. Moved the...wrong way."
"I'm coming over." Peter stood, determination written across his aged face. "I'll be there in a moment."
"No, you don't have to do that. I'm—"
"If you even think about saying you're fine I'll put you on medical leave for months." Once he was sure that there would be no protest, the agent nodded unconsciously and continued on, "Don't try to run. I'll catch you again."
"Yeah. Sure you will." He could not help but worry as the younger man's voice sounded even weaker; it seemed like he was dozing off or experiencing more pain than he had been earlier. "See you soon, then."
Peter went back into the master bedroom, where El was sitting up, concern written over her face.
"Hon? What's going on?"
The FBI Agent was already undressing and putting on casual clothes even as he spoke to his wife. "Sorry, hon, but I have to head out. Neal's sick, and he just called to say that he wants my company. I'll probably be with him for the rest of the night to make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."
El yawned and smiled softly, shaking her head. "That's fine. You go and make sure that he's alright."
"Thanks, hon." He planted a quick kiss on her cheek before turning and heading out of the room.
She was asleep before she even heard the car back out of the driveway.
Pain. Agony. Love. Lust. Fury. Grief. They were all emotions that tied together, all feelings that couldn't be felt without another. You couldn't feel agony without knowing pain first. Love would not welcome you if you did not lust after the object of your desires. Rage would not come if one never felt the heart-wrenching pull of despair. One could not help but to wonder...what exactly defines emotions? What defines the things that cause human beings to scream, to kick, to cry, to shout, to writhe in the depths of their heart's willpower? What causes humans to be humans? Everything feels emotions. A lioness mourning over her lost cub. A sparrow crying for their fallen friend. Both humans and animals possess intelligence, but what draws the line? What differentiates humans from the beasts that surround them daily?
He grimaced as he hung up, throwing the phone onto the nightstand beside him and stretching with a stifled groan as he laid his head back down on the headrest of his bed.
Fire tore through his body, and he moaned and curled in on himself, clenching his eyes shut.
He was hungry again.
The craving was nearly unbearable, almost as bad as it had been all those years ago, during his time in Europe.
The Agent was coming over. Yes—he would be able to curb his hunger with him. Yes. He would be good enough.
His senses spiked, alarms raising as he turned slightly towards the door.
There was a knock on the door.
"Neal?"
A harsh growl tore through his aching throat. A pained grimace passed over full, pale, and icy lips. He shuddered, shaking his head repeatedly and making the wild raven tangle of his hair become even more mussed.
Not Peter.
Not Peter.
Not him.
It wasn't him.
It isn't him.
A dark chill passed through his long and lean body, digging sharp and venomous talons through the deceitfully thick and strong flesh. Crimson flashed, glazing over pale icy blue and gray.
"Neal?" There was another knock, this time, more urgent. "It's Sara. Mozzie told me you were here. Can I come in?"
The lithe man groaned softly, shivering roughly as he forced himself to sit up. "Just a minute." He convinced his legs to cooperate, and he moved down the hall towards the bathroom.
He ran a hand over his face, attempting to make himself look presentable and decent. Ice blue stained with a faint hint of crimson stared back at him, and he noticed with a grimace how pale and sickly he looked.
When his breath fogged the glass of the mirror, his tongue traced over the unsheathed points of his fangs.
Relax. Calm down.
Neal Caffrey rolled his shoulders with a faint cringe, plastering a slight rendition of his trademark grin on his face. He could not show his trademark smirk at the moment—not with his current predicament—but at least he had some sort of expression that was similar to what he had normally.
When he opened the door—after taking a few breaths that did little to ease the aching fire in his throat—the red-haired beauty that was Sara stood there, a faintly worried look on her slender, pale face. She was clad in a form-fitting forest green dress that complimented her fiery hair and matched her emerald eyes.
"Hey, Sara. How are you?" Internally, he cringed at how even his voice sounded. It was disgustingly nauseating how horrifically gentle he sounded around these pathetic mortals. Nevertheless, he was nothing but a gentleman, and he turned to let the woman enter.
She trailed in with the angelic grace that she had, and the red-haired woman stepped into the intricately decorated room. Her deep, intelligent gaze wandered about the room, taking in every object with the attention to detail that she was accustomed to having. After having surveyed everything to her level of satisfaction, Sara set her purse down on the couch behind her and turned to face the faintly grimacing pale man still lingering at the door.
Those bright eyes narrowed as the woman tilted her head, sending a cascade of crimson curls over her slim shoulders. "I'm fine, Neal." She frowned ever so slightly, forcing her full lips into a distorted scowl. "Are you? You look like hell, no offense."
Neal shrugged, forcing himself to ignore the gruesome and unrelenting pounding in the back of his head away. "Just fighting off a migraine, that's all." He grunted and recoiled suddenly, bringing a hand up to his head as he turned away to brace himself against the countertop.
"Caffrey?" She was moving closer, and at the slight tilt of her head he was exposed to a rush of her sweet, delicious scent.
He found that even though he was their ruler, even the hungriest of them—no matter their age or amount of experience—would resort to the most basic of tactics in order to acquire sustenance.
"Give me a moment." He was trembling now, hands clenched into fists as he fought the urge to unsheathe his fangs. Normally he was much more restrained, but he had not fed in weeks, nearly months. It was nowhere near how long he had gone without feeding before, but there were just do many temptations. The female doctor had merely been a sampler—a taste of what he was soon to receive.
"Neal?" Sara was continuing to approach him, and he shuddered even harder as he turned and forced himself to move away from her. She was oh so pretty—he could not find it in himself to harm her willingly, but he would if she kept moving closer.
At that moment, a knock sounded on the door, and that rumbling baritone voice rang through the door.
"Neal? It's Peter."
Sara glanced at the trembling man before turning and opening the door.
The well-built man frowned, tilting his head ever so slightly as he stared down at the red-haired woman. "Sara? What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," she countered, crossing her arms.
Peter's frown deepened ever so slightly. "Neal called me saying he wanted company or something along those lines." He peered in the door around the not-so-considerable bulk of the woman, eyes widening as they locked onto the trembling con man, who was close to being forced to his knees from whatever pain he was in. "Neal? What is it?" He slipped past Sara, heading straight for the younger man.
He frowned as he placed a hand on the pale man's forehead, bracing his body against his own as he swayed precariously. "You're burning up. Have you taken any medications?"
Neal let out a hoarse breath, shaking his head. His head turned, and his pale blue eyes locked with the emerald orbs of the woman.
Peter seemed to not notice or chose not to. "You need to. Do you not know how to take care of yourself?"
The con man laughed hoarsely, shuddering more violently. "Sara..." He grimaced and coughed harshly, eyes narrowing. "She doesn't have t-to—"
Peter frowned again and glanced at the woman, shrugging almost apologetically. "It'd probably be better if you leave. He'll only get worse if he worries about you."
Sara raised her hands, an easygoing smile crossing her face. "Say no more." She turned and grabbed her purse, heading out and standing in the hall as she glanced over her shoulder. "Call me if he gets any better or otherwise, okay?"
"I will." He watched as the woman left before turning to Neal. "Why did you invite her over when you knew you were ill?"
Neal gasped, slender arms wrapping around his middle as he trembled. "Didn't. Mozzie. Or...or something."
"Remind me to punch him when I see him again." Peter smirked lightly, a chuckle rumbling through his broad chest. Neal laughed softly, but when he groaned and doubled over to cough violently, Peter frowned and led the man to the couch.
"You need rest." The FBI agent gently helped the man sit down, watching with a concerned glint in his eyes as the blue-eyed man closed his eyes with a grimace.
Neal moaned, curling in on himself as he shut his eyes tightly. He shivered, his skin prickling and body shaking as the tremors reappeared.
"Here." Peter procured a blanket, placing it over the lithe man. He watched as the younger man let out an unsteady breath and wrapped the blanket tighter around his body. "Do you need anything else?"
Neal shook his head, grimacing as the movement seemed to cause him more pain. "'M fine." He seemed oblivious to the scowl that the older man gave as he shifted and pulled the blanket tighter over his body.
Peter sighed heavily and bent down so he was on one knee. With an almost hesitant aura surrounding his body, he slowly raised a hand and placed it on the younger man's shoulder, concerned at the heat that radiated from him. "You'll be okay, Neal."
"Mmph." The young man sighed heavily, voice muffled by the pillow covering his face.
Suddenly the con artist groaned, curling in on himself as he rocked on the couch. Startled, Peter made to help the younger man, but as he did so Neal turned his head and growled at him, a manic and disturbingly hungry light in his clear eyes.
"Neal." Peter raised his hands as if to caution the other male. He had never seen that look in his eyes before, and it was something that sent an unwanted chill down his spine. It was the look of a caged animal, wounded and frightened as their tormentor came to play with them some more.
The pale man bared his teeth in something like a snarl, his clear blue eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Stay away."
"I just want to help," Peter countered, keeping his motions small and his gaze free of emotion.
"Then shut up and leave me alone." Neal grimaced and placed a hand against his forehead, shuddering in some sort of phantom pain.
After a moment of silence, Neal's hoarse and shaky voice sounded.
"Come here."
Peter frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Neal, what—?"
"Now." The pale man fixed his ocean-blue stare on the larger male. "Please."
With a reluctant sigh, the older man moved closer, almost nose-to-nose with the con artist. "What do you want?"
Remaining eerily silent, slim hands rose and cupped the agent's face, icy fingertips running over smooth skin as he stared through bleary eyes.
Peter felt a chill go down his spine as Neal continued to stare at him, feeling more than seeing the darkness lacing through his motions as the con man leaned close. The agent forced himself to be still as Neal inhaled deeply, shuddering harshly.
The raven's breath hitched, and he pushed the larger man away, his eyes wide and his body trembling. "Peter...I...I didn't..." He glanced away, his breathing coming faster as he wrapped his arms tightly around his body.
Startled at the sudden terror in the man's voice, Peter spoke softly. "Neal, what were you doing?"
Neal groaned and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Peter. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for." The federal agent shook his head slowly, a faint smile curling up his lips. "You did nothing wrong."
Blue eyes dangerously bright, the lithe man began to rock once again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Peter felt his concern rise as heat radiated around the slim man. Rising to his feet, he moved quietly into the kitchen and filled a glass with water, setting it on a table nearby the delusional man.
He sunk into a chair in front of the trembling man, ready for a restless night.
"And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."
~William Shakespeare~
"Caffrey, are you sure you're okay?"
The pale man let out a soft sigh as he turned to glare at Jones. "I told you before, I'm fine."
"That look in your eyes tells me you're not." Diana glanced at him through the rearview mirror, her chocolate eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Did you take anything for your headache?"
Neal groaned, resting his cheek on the cool glass of the window. "I don't like it. It makes me feel...like I'm not me."
Make them suffer, my king. Tear their measly bodies limb from limb and feast on their steaming internals.
"Sure, but that headache won't go away as quickly if you don't take any aspirin," Peter grumbled and twisted in his seat to stare at the con artist. "You were delusional with fever not even five days ago."
Would you dare doubt me? You, nothing but a powerless, mewling subordinate? Who do you think you are?
"And that was five days ago, Peter," Neal muttered, shaking his head as his eyes glazed over. "You're not making anything better by putting information out like that."
Jones frowned at the con artist, crossing his arms. "Information? As far as I know, the fact that you were delusional is something we should all know in case it happens again."
"No one asked for your opinion," Neal hissed, narrowing his eyes in a cold glare. He winced suddenly and brought a hand to his head, his breathing becoming shaky.
Endless days and night have I been trapped in this pathetic world. Your opinion means nothing in my eyes.
"Damn it, Neal." Peter motioned to Jones with a wave of his hand. "Check him for a fever. I still don't think it's gone down like he said it did."
As Jones reached over to feel Caffrey's forehead, he was stopped by a cold, strong hand crushing his own. Neal glared at him through darkened eyes, his lip curled back in a snarl to expose his teeth.
"Don't touch me."
Jones stared back with wide eyes. "Caffrey, I didn't mean to—"
Suddenly Neal was lurching forward, and the car jerked slightly as he pinned the African Amerian man to the seat. "Don't. Touch. Me."
The car jerked, and Diana unlocked the doors and stepped out. "Boss, come out when you're done. I'll be inside."
"Jones, go on ahead. I'll take care of Neal." Peter waved a hand dismissively and turned to face the seething master forger.
"Uh, boss, I can't exactly—"
"Neal, let him go."
Neal glared at the agent before releasing his teammate, ignoring the way he scrambled out of the car.
"I don't want him touching me." Neal's eyes were glazed over, and his fingers dug into the leather seats in an effort to right himself as he swayed. His breathing was hoarse and unsteady as he trembled visibly. "I...I don't want anyone t-touching me."
Peter frowned, wanting to reach out but knowing it was a bad idea with Neal's current mental state. "Neal, he wasn't going to do anything to hurt you. He only wanted to—"
Neal's lip curled back to expose his teeth as he shook his head violently. "I told you everything was fine and you went ahead and—"
"Don't play the victim here. You were the one who insisted you were fine, but in case you didn't know, fine doesn't mean skipping out on the medication that's supposed to make you better." Peter glared at him, his voice hardening and his eyes narrow. "Why are you acting like this? Jones meant no harm."
Neal swallowed hard, sweat glistening on his pale skin. He turned away, moving his stare out of the window.
When Peter reached back to place a consoling hand on the con artist's arm, Neal jerked and pressed himself against the seat, putting as much space between them as he could.
"Don't touch me."
"Caffrey." Peter sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You need to come inside so we can debrief the rest of the team."
Neal scowled, hunching over himself in his seat. "Why? I'm not going anyway." His breathing calmed down somewhat as he fixed his clear blue gaze out of the window. "You know I can't go."
"That's because you're staying at the office and relaying messages from the agents in the field." The federal agent rose to his feet, climbing out of the car and opening Neal's door.
The raven-haired man let out a shaky breath as he rose to his feet, leaning against the vehicle. "I know." He grimaced and ran a hand over his throat, shutting his eyes briefly.
He flinched as a heavy hand rested on his shoulder.
"Come on." Peter motioned to the looming building behind them. "We've got to get going."
Neal nodded, pressing his lips together. "Right."
Diana watched from her desk as Caffrey and Peter entered the building, Peter urging the pale man on with an arm on his elbow.
Neal stumbled slightly as he went up the stairs to Burke's office, and she watched as Peter guided him and forced him to sit in a chair.
Narrowing her eyes, Diana rose to her feet.
"Boss."
Peter muttered to himself as he looked through a file in his hands, glancing up briefly. "What, Diana?"
"What's wrong with Caffrey? Why did you leave him in your office?"
"What?" Burke frowned as he stared down at the woman. "He's sick, Diana, and he's bordering on having a migraine worse than his previous one. That's reason enough to keep him in a secluded area."
"You couldn't leave him at his apartment instead? Because I have a feeling you'll have one of us watch over him."
Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Diana, I don't have time for this. Neal is better off here where multiple people can watch him and get him help if he needs it, and you know as well as I that he'd get into another world of trouble if he was left with Mozzie." He turned away and raised his voice. "Jones, head to the car and make sure everything we need is there. Diana, go with him."
She made to protest, but Burke narrowed his eyes in a cautionary glare. "This conversation is over, Diana. Go with Jones and get ready to leave."
There's Chapter Two. Once again, I apologize for the extremely long wait, but this story was put on hold when I started my anime binge-watching again. Review, please!
Oh, and can anyone guess what's going on with Neal? (Check the summary for this story if you're lost...)