Chapter 10

~o~

It was rare for Arthur not to awaken with a headache. Every morning, the author would let out a pained moan as his mind throbbed as though he'd been out drinking. The vampire knew that it wasn't the case. Guilt gnawed at him when he saw his lover take pills from his nightstand as soon as his eyes opened. He worried when Arthur took to dosing his morning tea with various alcoholic chasers. He was forgiving when Arthur was irritable and angry all the time.

Alfred knew it was his fault. Even if there were perfectly normal reasons for his boyfriend's behavior - from Francis to Ivan - Alfred knew it had to be the geis he put on his own lover. It wasn't meant to linger or to be used repeatedly, causing permanent harm to the human he placed it on. It had to be because Arthur couldn't accept not going to the police. That it had gone against his very nature. Alfred didn't know why Arthur couldn't just accept it. Everything would be better if he just gave in.

Clearly, Arthur wasn't like that. He was too good a person. It made Alfred want to laugh and cry all at once. Never had he felt like the lowest form of scum on the Earth. The bracelet didn't change a damned thing. He was still poison, a bad influence. He was wrong for Arthur. He was hurting him.

Yet ugly, selfish creature that he was, he didn't want to let Arthur go. He couldn't.

So he stayed. He stayed even though Arthur awoke in pain. He stayed even though Arthur was drinking at all hours of the day. He stayed even though he could feel his own guilt building up into aggression, pushing away everyone that came close. He stayed even though he could feel himself becoming more and more of a monster every day.

All that mattered was that he stay close to that fragile precious human, heart breaking every time he crept in next to Arthur in bed and fell into fitful slumber, plagued with dreams of blood.

~o~

Something was very wrong with Alfred.

Arthur didn't have to be sober to notice that his lover had changed dramatically ever since Ivan's death. He studied his boyfriend over the rim of his whiskey glass from across the couch. Alfred had become much more closed off, every word, every action laced with barely restrained aggression. Particularly to anyone outside the house. It reminded Arthur of an alpha wolf protecting its territory, which Arthur surmised made him the bitch of the pack.

Whatever. He really didn't give a shit. Alfred took care of him and kept the world at bay. Something that he desperately needed. Everything was all wrong and he couldn't make head or tails of anything anymore. Alfred was the only thing that was keeping him from spiraling completely out of control. He couldn't begrudge his lover from going through any shocking behavior changes of his own after what happened. It would be disgustingly hypocritical of him.

What was wrong was Alfred was pushing him away.

The movie droned on. He was too drunk to really follow the storyline anymore. Downing the rest of his glass, Arthur clapped it onto the coffee table and crawled over to the other side of the couch. The boy tensed when Arthur wrapped his arms around his middle, but placed a hand in Arthur's hair to stroke it. It felt nice. He missed this desperately.

"Alfred..." Arthur purred, arching up against his lover. "Will you fuck me?"

Alfred pulled a face. "Arthur, you're drunk," he muttered, his grip tightening around Arthur's choppy locks.

"What's your point?" the author demanded, his hand reaching over for Alfred's groin.

"Stop," Alfred hissed, grasping Arthur's wrist tight enough to bruise. This was getting ridiculous. Alfred had refused sex before, but this was the third time this week.

"The fuck is wrong with you!" Arthur snapped, wrenching himself away from the other man. "You ungrateful little shit! I kill someone for you and this is the thanks I get!" He didn't care how sharp his words were, happy to see the shock on Alfred's face. "Yes, I did! I killed him and I'd do it again! So don't make me out to be some broken damsel. I'm the one who saved you! You should be thanking me on your bloody hands and knees!"

"Will you shut up!" Alfred roared, stunning Arthur out of his rant. Alfred looked just as stunned. Clearly, neither of them of them had expected it. Regret bled into Alfred's expression and he murmured a tiny, "I'm sorry," before he pulled himself off of the couch and fled.

Arthur sat back on his haunches, watching Alfred dash upstairs. Violent, poisonous anger filled him up and with a cry he grabbed his whiskey glass and smashed it into the floor. Glass splashed everywhere into a thousand tiny pieces. Arthur hoped Alfred stepped on them and cut up his own feet. Maybe then he'd get angry. Maybe then he'd stop looking at Arthur like he was a precious china doll, too fragile to touch and to hold.

Pushing himself up from the couch, Arthur trod over to the kitchen to find another bottle of whiskey. However, all the cupboards were bare. His irritation spiking like a flare, Arthur knew that Alfred must have disposed of them. "Bloody, fucking, conniving..." he muttered darkly under his breath, spilling the vilest curses at his housemate.

Fine. Whatever. He could get his own.

Trudging over to the coat closet, he yanked one of the jackets out at random. It turned out to be Alfred's. One of his favourites. It was a leather military jacket that his boyfriend had picked up off of eBay, though it was only recently that his shoulders had finally filled it out. Arthur faltered on sight of it. He brushed his fingers gingerly along the black fur collar, remembering how happy Alfred had looked when he wore it for the first time. He was so bright and bubbly then. Not this dark and brooding thing that lumbered around the house. They were both so happy...

His vision turned watery and he clutched the jacket tightly to himself, all his anger at his boyfriend forgotten. Instead, a chasm of aching loss was left in its place. Where had his dear sweet boy gone? When did he lose Alfred?

Was it his fault? Was it because of the drinking? Because of the headaches? Perhaps. However, Alfred had been the one changing first. He was the one who had slowly been turning into something else, even before Arthur started using alcohol to salve his ills and loneliness. They used to be so close. Now Arthur couldn't even remember the last time they'd stayed up late into the night whispering little sweet nothings to each other in bed. Hell, when was the last time they had ever even stayed up past nine?

Arthur frowned. That... how did he not notice that before? Both of them were out like a light as soon as they hit the bed. It was... bizarre. It brought to mind some other incident he had long since pushed to the back of his mind. Their first coupling. He'd woken up then in much the same way that he had these many mornings past. The same type of headache. The same fog over his memories. The same unsettling feeling that he'd been used.

Was... was Alfred drugging him?

Then something caught Arthur's attention. His frown deepening, he pulled out something from the black fur and held it up out into the light.

A long, blond hair.

Arthur stared at it. A hair. A blond hair that wasn't his. His fingers trembled, a fire roaring to life inside him that filled him up with pure, white rage. "ALFRED!" he screamed, storming over wood and glass to go up to find the ungrateful, whoring little shit that had betrayed him. After everything that Arthur had done for him, how could he do this? How could he rip his heart out and stomp on it as if it were nothing? He didn't even care that he was leaving bloody footprints, the alcohol numbing any pain that came from walking on glass shards.

Alfred looked up from the bed when Arthur entered, his eyes wide when he saw Arthur burst in like a hurricane. As if he didn't know what he did.

"You worthless whore!" Arthur spat at him, throwing the jacket at the other man's face. "How could you betray me like this?! After everything that I've done for you! You're nothing but a greedy, golddigging little slut! Who are you taking from on the side?! Who is it?!"

Alfred pulled the jacket down out of his face. His eyes locked onto Arthur, expression unreadable. Alfred's pupils contracted, turning as sharp as a cat's. The sight sent a sharp chill down Arthur's skin, freezing the fiery words in his throat. Then the inhuman eyes fell on Arthur's bleeding feet, looking... hungry.

Arthur stepped back, watching in horror as his lover changed even more. His body seemed to bulk up more, his fingers turning into claws. A fine dark fur spread over his tanned skin. His ears grew pointed and large like a bat's. His jaw shifted forwards into a snout, the teeth inside his maw sharp and pointed as razors. And his eyes...

They were red as blood.

"A-Alfred..." Arthur scarcely breathed, staring hard and wide as his lover transformed into a beast. The huge bat(?) crept forward on its hands, like a tiger on the prowl. Arthur's back hit the wall. He couldn't breathe as the monster cornered him, curling back on its haunches as it prepared to strike. "Alfred, no," Arthur whispered, shaking his head. He didn't know what was happening, but this thing was still his dear, sweet boy somewhere inside there. He wouldn't...

The creature let out an inhuman screech, then launched itself forward.

Shrieking, Arthur crouched down to the floor and hid himself away underneath his arms. The sound of glass shattering, then the roar of an injured animal let loose in the air. All Arthur knew was that he hadn't been flayed into pieces as glass rained over him. Panting for breath, his head snapped up and he looked around to find his bedroom windows broken and the beast missing. He looked down and all around him, finding shredded clothes and Alfred's untouched jacket strewn over the floor.

Tears blurred his vision as he crawled over it, gasping so hard for breath that he was hyperventilating. He clutched it desperately to his person, fingers clawing into the soft dark leather. "Oh God... Alfred..." he sobbed, grief striking him down harder and faster than it ever did with Francis. "Alfred...!"

He never heard the footsteps coming up the stairs or crunch over the glass.

Suddenly, a darkness blinded him, covered in a claustrophobic nightmare. The jacket was wrested from his arms and he was manhandled by two, no three, people. He kicked and struggled, yowling and fighting with everything he had to get away from his assailants. Then something hard and heavy crashed into his brow, throwing him out of consciousness and into inky blackness.

~o~

Arthur awoke slowly, his head pounding as though a mallet were knocking against his brain. Dizzy and exhausted, he looked up and found himself staring up at a cold stone ceiling with high barred windows. Unable to stay conscious any longer, he fell back to darkness.

~o~

When the author next awoke, the pain in his head had dulled into a low throb where he was struck. Groaning, he pushed himself up to a sit to take a proper look around him. It looked as though he were in some sort of cell. A small stony cell with an uncomfortable metal bed and thin mattress. He wasn't even in his own clothes, dressed in gray sack cloth. Then he noticed that his feet were wrapped up in bandages. No doubt thanks to the glass...

"Hello?" he called out, swinging his legs down to the floor. He hissed when he went to his feet and quickly had to give up. "Hello!" he called out again, trying to look for some movement or sound past the metal slat door. Nothing answered him. Then he noticed the little tray of bread and water on the table next to his bed.

Well, clearly whoever had him here didn't want him to starve.

In no mood to eat, Arthur picked up the loaf of bread (it was hard as a rock) and tossed it at the door. "HEY! Where am I!" he shouted. "Who the fuck are you! What did you do with Alfred!"

Again, no one answered save for the dull echo of the thud of the bread against the door. Growling to himself, Arthur tossed himself back onto the bed and curled up against the little pillow provided for him. His mind whirled back to the last events he could remember, though it had all seemed like some horrible nightmare. His green eyes flicked up to the gray ceiling. The prison cell was a good reminder that this was not a dream.

His stomach lurched as he remembered his lover turning into that monster. The jaws, the hands, the fur, those eyes... His mind immediately went to Vlad. Vlad had red eyes as well. Did he have something to do with this? It was inconceivable, but with the timing it all made sense. All the physical changes, the supposed "cure", the sudden increase in aggression, the pulling away?

I introduced them... he realized and he thought that he might be sick.

~o~

A whole four days passed in complete quiet in the cell. Arthur's body unpleasantly purged itself of any want of alcohol. Though he quickly realized that the water was drugged. Whomever was keeping here didn't care to show themselves for now, for whatever reason, no matter how much he ranted and raved at the door. He managed to prop up the bed against the barred windows, but all he saw outside was foliage. Clearly his screaming wasn't attracting any attention whatsoever either.

On the bright side, his headaches were completely gone. Though it only confirmed his suspicions that Alfred had everything to do with them.

Finally, on the fifth day, when Arthur was curled on his thin mattress sick with guilt and worry, he heard footsteps thudding down the corridor towards his room. He unwrapped himself from the wall and sat up properly to make himself presentable for his would-be captors. Oh, he had many, many words for them when they got here...

Keys clinked outside and the metal door swung open on ear-piercing hinges. Arthur opened his mouth to tell them off, but he ended up slack jawed instead. A familiar Captain from the NYPD stood in the doorway, his hands tucked behind his back. "Arthur Kirkland," Captain Ludwig said with a curt nod. "You will want to come with me."

~o~

Mercifully, Arthur was not made to walk on his injured feet. Instead Ludwig pushed him down the graffiti-covered stone hallways in a wheelchair. Observing his surroundings, Arthur deduced that he was likely in some abandoned prison or asylum. He didn't see another soul around. Somehow where no one was aware of the decidedly shady goings on in this particular establishment. Why this place wasn't filled with homeless or gangs was a baffling mystery.

Ludwig pushed him into a large room and he was surprised to see that it was set up with the furnishings of a modern conference room, with a projector, screen, table and chairs filled with a number of foreign faces. There were only four of them, including Ludwig. There wasn't any uniformity to them as they dressed in business casual attire. They were also overall remarkably unimpressive. Aside from Ludwig, Arthur had a difficult time distinguishing them.

"Arthur, these are my colleagues," Ludwig said, gesturing over to the small group. Arthur highly doubted that Ludwig meant the NYPD. "Everyone, this is Arthur Kirkland." Everyone gave a nod and Arthur returned it with one of his own. He couldn't stop thinking about how bizarre this entire situation was. He should rightly be calling them all kidnappers. One of the colleagues, Ludwig introduced him as Eduard, came up to the head of the table.

"You no doubt have questions," he said, which Arthur thought was bloody obvious. Eduard took a long breath, steadying himself for his explanation. "You should know that there are dark forces at work in this world. The like of which that humankind is unaware of in everyday life..."

Oh God.

"Please, spare the theatrics," Arthur cut in quickly before Eduard droned on like one of the horrible novels he'd written early on in his career. "Who exactly are you?"

Eduard seemed taken aback by this. Ruffled, he answered nonetheless. "We are a secret society of the highest order. We call ourselves the Watchers. We have looked out for humanity for countless eons battling the forces of-"

"And why were you in my house?" Arthur cut in quickly again, his impatience rising. Eduard cast a helpless glance over in Ludwig's direction.

Ludwig coughed into his fist and then briefly explained. "We are Watchers because we watch for the activities of the supernatural. It is our duty to exterminate them when they prove dangerous to humankind. We had our eye on one supernatural in particular in the area," Ludwig said, nodding for one of his companions to turn on the projector. The image of Vladimir Negrescu came on the screen. In some strange way, Arthur wasn't the least bit surprised. "He is unique. We have yet to properly classify what he is as there has never been another like him. He controls and feeds off of the powers of other supernatural creatures, extending his own life and increasing his power. Eventually, he kills them."

A sharp chill of dread ran down Arthur's spine and he knew what Ludwig would say next.

Folding his hands in front of him, the Captain turned back to the author. "This brings us to why you were attacked. Negrescu has already gotten his hands on his newest conquest. This may come as a surprise but your partner, Alfred Jones, is-"

"-a vampire," Arthur finished.

Now even Ludwig stared at him in shock. "How did you...?" he asked.

"I guessed," the author replied honestly, letting out a faintly hysterical laugh. "Though to be fair, it was a rather educated guess. Burns in the sun, never eats, only goes out a night? Makes sense now, doesn't it? Oh, and there was also the whole turning into a giant mutant bat in front of my eyes!"

All the Watchers were giving him wary looks, as if expecting Arthur to crack up at any second. "...You seem to be taking this rather well...?" one of the Watchers commented.

Arthur shrugged helplessly. What could he say? That it all made too much sense, despite how impossible it all sounded? That he'd always been prone to a rather overactive imagination anyway? "I think..." he said in a slightly less crazed tone, "I had always suspected that was the case. You know, I'm pretty sure I saw him drinking blood one time..." he muttered mostly to himself.

Suddenly he looked up to the group, the vivid memory of Alfred's cry of pain came back at him like a punch to the gut. "What did you do to him?" he hissed, eyes flashing in hatred.

"He escaped the scene after we shot at him," Ludwig answered. After a pause, he said, "Mr. Kirkland, we have nothing personal against him. We have been watching him for a very long time. He proved himself mostly harmless when given the right tools to survive. Ivan Braginsky was watching over him and assisted in his assimilation."

Arthur sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. And he went and killed the one person actually looking out for him. Another mark against him... "I see," he spoke hoarsely.

"Recently it became plain to our eyes that Negrescu has taken Jones under his control. Our predecessors have let Negrescu do this before because he was only harming other supernaturals," Ludwig explained, seemingly not at all bothered that Arthur had murdered his colleague. "However, now he is using Jones to kill human beings. Something which we cannot abide by. One of those we suspect was your friend Francis Bonnefoy."

The hair. The blond hair.

"And who was supposed to be watching him?!" Arthur snapped, his anger roaring to life. "You useless fuckers! You could have stopped Francis from dying!" God, and kept Alfred from murdering him.

"I was," Ludwig broke in, his voice hard. "There are very few of us. Not enough to keep track of everyone." Then his voice softened a beat. "I do apologize, truly, for your loss. You are right. His death should never have occurred on my watch. Yet we hadn't realized what Negrescu was doing with Jones until it was too late."

"And what is he doing?" Arthur demanded. "Alfred's only gotten stronger since he's met Vlad. Not weaker. Contrary to what you say about him."

"He is likely forcing Jones to kill humans in order to make Jones as strong as an old-age vampire. So that Jones will be at peak strength before Negrescu drains him. The process requires slaying at least one human a night." Ludwig gave Arthur a hard look. "The fact that you remain alive is baffling, given that you were within such easy reach."

A door suddenly slammed open behind them, making them all jump. Arthur pivoted in his seat and he received his second shock of the day when he saw a familiar looming form stalk into the room.

"Zat is because Alfred is one vith Arzur," Ivan Braginsky said, in the full flesh. He looked none the worse for being shot twice and left for dead. "Zey are lovers. Alfred instinctly made him go sleeping, before Vladimir make him killing at night. Alfred is sentimental fool to ze very end." Ivan glanced over in Arthur's direction and gave the author a nod. "Arzur."

Arthur weakly returned the nod, visibly shaken. "Ivan," he said. "...Sorry for shooting you."

Ivan merely shrugged. "Niet. Is nozing." He turned back to the rest of the group. "Alfred is now totally under Vladimir's control. He has not returning to normal since zat night," he said with a small inclination in Arthur's direction. "He is at Vladimir's mercy."

"Then we need to save him!" Arthur cried out, slamming a hand against the table. "You said it yourself! Alfred is one of the good ones. He deserves saving. I'm the one who put Vlad onto his trail in the first place! I will take responsibility for him!"

Ivan smirked knowingly over in Ludwig's direction. Arthur didn't care what they thought, even though a faint blush tracked up his neck and to his ears. He still stood firm. Ludwig coughed into his fist and then responded lightly, "To be honest, we were hoping that you would reach that conclusion. It is somewhat of a relief that you are accepting this all so easily."

"Oh, not easily," Arthur replied with a dark laugh, his green eyes glittering with a manic glint. "You just told me that my boyfriend has essentially been lying to me since we met. Believe me, once I find him I will strangle him myself." And then hold him, and kiss him, and cry for him for everything that he had been through.

But definitely strangling him first.

"So you will join the Watchers?" Eduard asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Arthur's face soured at the suggestion. "I'm sorry. You want me to join the wankers who managed to let my grade school friend get killed and my boyfriend brainwashed by some supernatural fiend? And kidnapped me from my home?"

"Is that a no?" one of the Watchers asked meekly.

To which, Arthur replied primly, "That would be a Fuck No."