rngrdead (rngrdead) wrote in bloodclaim,
rngrdead
rngrdead
bloodclaim

All Over Again # 13

Title: All over Again

Pairing: Spike/Xander

Warnings/Squicks: M/M relations (way later) and human boys (for now)

Rating: NC-17 (or MA 15+ or R?) There is violence and sex and vampires, and boys.

Summary: He was too sick to raise his head, the vampire was bleeding out. They were both heroes in their own right, but saving both of them had a bizarre set of implications – not least of which was the chance to start again.

Disclaimer: Characters are the concept of the wonderful Joss and Co. Don’t make money from the writing etc etc.
other parts here




PART 13

Despite the talisman and her brothers’ vigilance the following three months of changes did seem an extreme emotional trial for Blanche, until her mother realized. Blanche’s menstrual cycle had apparently aligned itself to the full moon with the week of her most fertile coinciding with her physical shifts causing havoc with her hormones, and a werewolf on heat *and* with PMS was something to be reckoned with! She could be violent or crying – either way certainly irrational – regardless of her physical state. And there was the problem of a wolf on heat – her scent drawing every canine for miles to the coven.

In the end a desperate Charlotte rang Willow who was in Cardiff for the week, and the High Mistress arranged for Blanche to spend at least the ensuing month with Oz.

After only two weeks with Oz, Blanche seemed to find her stride. Her menstrual cycles altered to match several other females in the busy household-come-studio, and her wolf revelled in the presence of the *many* other musicians who were similarly affected by the moon and revelled in Oz’s strength and wisdom. Any bitten muso in Europe seemed to gravitate to the enigmatic wolf/rocker’s rather bohemian home at some point… and many returned repeatedly.

Unwilling to take a ‘free ride’ simply because the High Mistress was his friend, Blanche leant her hand to Oz’s partner ‘Tiff’ becoming more and more involved in the business side of the studio. Oz was no fool when it came to money and Tiff was equally astute, but both were still incredibly busy people so Blanche’s quietly enthusiastic, apparently effortless, expert assistance was very welcome, and her wiccan knowledge invaluable when it came to a couple of musicians with illnesses or afflictions of magical origin.

Blanche rang home weekly, Charlotte and Trent thrilled to hear their eldest so very happy, and her brothers (and baby sister) all privy to her increasingly frequent mention of another – Tjun. He was apparently an accomplished percussionist and sometime piano player, also werewolf, and therefore ‘hung out’ with Oz on the nights of the full moon each month (as so many others did these days).


After the three months into her stay at Oz’s establishment, the handsome Indonesian musician and fellow werewolf, Tjun, and pretty English wiccan werewolf, Blanche, were formally partnered. In truth they had consummated their love in her first month with Oz initially in wolf form then as enamoured humans. Given Blanche’s previous disastrous long term relationship, her family were worried, but when the two arrived home at the coven for the first time as a couple, all concern evaporated.

Blanche was all but radiant as she introduced the handsome tall male at the summer solstice party, and both were greeted enthusiastically, though William’s far older memories internally insisted ‘charming oriental’ as title for the new family member, though thankfully his inclination to use (the in-its-time somewhat inoffensive) said title was squashed.

The pair’s visit coincided with the full moon so all were ready for a family lock down, the talisman guaranteeing at least Blanche’s loyalty (and therefore not hurting of) family but were worried that Tjun was not so covered. They need not have worried. Charlotte and Trent watched with a measure of sadness as the camera in the bedroom recorded the two shift, but then were thrilled and amazed as the two changelings simply fed on the raw meat provided them, before bedding down together with Blanche curled up, spooned protectively by her near black partner.

As William and Alexander checked on the two later in the night, it was the hyena senses that smelt it first on the sleeping wolves. The defensive loving behaviour should have been expected, their older sister was carrying Tjun’s children.



Life at the coven continued on in the happy knowledge that Charlotte and Trent were to be grandparents, with Blanche and Tjun investigating the prospect of living and working ‘closer to home’. Oz and Tiff were more than happy to recommend a couple of studios that would benefit from the couple’s skills and the ‘Oz connection’ made it considerably easier to work in London should they wish it. In the end they took a small bungalow just outside Caversham. It was an easy run in to London but wasn’t really ‘in town’ and the Oxford Coven was very active and had a chapter in Reading who knew of Blanche – and their whole family really!

It was decided that Blanche and Tjun would be home for the birth – but their home was warded anyway and the level of magical protection afforded via a second talisman for Tjun guaranteed their safety during their nights with the moon.

Sadly it was during a visit to his older sister’s new home that Blanche first noticed the change in William and consequently said something to her mother.

Jovial enough on the surface and obviously deeply committed to his now mate Alexander, he had absented himself several times from the hustle and bustle of the household during the weekend visit, only to be found sitting smoking in morose silence behind an old pine tree at the base of Blanche’s garden.

Over the ensuing two months William’s vampire status seemed to be an escalating source of concern. For some reason he was suffering increasingly bad nightmares making sleep (day or night) an increasingly frightening and consequently elusive event. He appealed to his work and was allowed to write at home, and the coven recommended he and Alexander no longer patrol – or come to meetings.

But the measures only seemed to cause William’s moods to become more and more extreme. He seemed to oscillate between utterly withdrawn and literally bouncing with pent up energy, between quiet and caring and utterly drunk… and there was something more… underpinning it all there a depth of sadness that no-one, not even his Mate, his partner in *this* life/unlife of but a few years, could quite fathom.

Charlotte tried to quietly broach the issue several times to no avail with the “I’m fine… really!” *not* fine son. She shared her concern with Trent and they resolved to ask for Willow’s help and advice when she returned at the end of the month. But the end of the month was too far away as that night, Alexander, in full hyena form, arrived at their door panicked and begging for help.

William was on the roof of their ‘outhouse’ abode and could not be coaxed down, the risk not so much the near three storey drop, but rather the proximity of a number of trees with potentially fatal branches… and the fact that William had burned himself in various places with holy water (how/why he had procured that… Alexander had no idea) and was now slowly slicing his chest with a pocket knife.

While a dressing gown clad Charlotte and William’s little sister Poppie tearfully begged the suicidal vampire to come down, Alexander climbed onto the roof of their shared abode and tackled the distracted William from behind with all the stealth of his inner soldier, letting the hyena have full control as he struck. He *bit* his Mate with a viciousness not previously present, and happily took the fall to the ground, tree free, with a painful “Umpfh” before one unhurt, very drunk vampire was cuffed and tied fast by Trent and two other coven members, and carried back to the family cottage.

What ensued was an intervention of sorts. Trent and Charlotte’s adopted son, their beautiful, courageous vampire son, might never now die of liver poisoning - no matter his drunken habits of late, but he was well on the way to dusting for other reasons if something wasn’t done. His chest was still oozing blood from the crisscrossed lines scored deep by the knife, both arms had horrible trails of blistered (and in two spots even blackened) flesh, and Charlotte could see… hear… *feel* her son’s extreme distress

Barely coherent, William seemed to be channelling his other lifetimes, other manifestations. They put Willow on speaker phone and recorded the rant as he paced the locked room in the presence of family.

“I dropped my board in the water and the chalk all ran… He shouldn’t have left – not without sayin’…” The sobbing William dropped to his knees in a corner and began to rock, “and then she…Bloody Prague! No… No!!” He bounced to his feet and grabbed a very frightened Charlotte’s arm. Her son looked through her and spoke at someone else, “Shhh Pet… Niblet’s fine with me…I lost me Mum too but then that… Oh!!! [hic] just not right, never… *right*!…”

He pushed her away and faced the wall, stroking it, keened a little then half turned to the room, “P’raps maybe not meant to last this long ‘ey Pet something else… common… First’s bitch… Powers’ bitch… everyone’s… bitch…”

Tears were now streaming down his face as he wrapped his arms around himself as though cold…”And what right do they have – oooh have a little more fun with him…Can’t touch, can’t affect anything… bloody sad ghost I turned out to be…”

William punched the wall again and again, and this time it was a sobbing Alexander who ineffectually tried to stop the desperate vampire from hurting himself for the umpteenth time that night.

William fought for a moment then turned in silent wonder said “I…” then collapsed to the ground so suddenly that his Mate had no hope of catching him. He hugged Alexander’s knees and began openly crying whilst trying to articulate, “I can hardly *live* with what I’ve done… it *burns*!!… She left me for a bloody Chaos demon you know?!... and you… then there was us and you… love you so much, so much Xan… Pfff … in the end loved that poncy *bastard* too… but he… he had to go for the dragon… had to take on a bloody dragon! Everyone leaves! Everyone leaves… N’ I‘m so weak… always so weak… would have died with him but he… and now…and I can’t… You don’t want me… can’t want me… not like this! I’m sorry! Only a fledge and… only a fledge!!! No Sire’s approval… Sire didn’t want me Never wanted me… always Daddy… always Dru… always… always… Please!” He pushed away from his Mate’s knees and in full vampire guise, began to tear at his own chest with iron hard nails, “Never me… don’t deserve… you could never! … Can’t do this while you’re looking!” then scrambled for the shadows.

The rant continued as he protested his desperate regret for crimes that in this life, he had not committed, and in another, had little control over, if he ever had done.

William sobbed his painful remorse over every hurt he had caused his current family – both real and imagined, then cried with anguish at the belief that he had somehow injured Alexander given the pain he felt through their link. And after a half hour or so of sobbing, begged for the end to his own ‘damned’ existence before he hurt anyone further.

Really there was no point trying to have dialogue, so Trent and two of the coven bound him close but gently with hand, feet, wrist, ankle, knees, plus blindfold and most sadly, soft latex mouthguard. The first time William bit down it took the impression and stayed, top and bottom. He could no longer bite himself or others.

In fact it made little difference as William curled up all but comatose, silent and obviously traumatised by demons they had no access to. Seven hours since the original report William lay bound, resting on his side in his mother’s lap as she rocked him like her small troubled Billy that he had so recently been.

Trent had been there for both partner and child for most of the exchange, but ended up with a distraught Alexander in a tight, comforting embrace on the other side of the room by the time William passed out in Charlotte’s loving arms.

The whole evening would have been to no avail had William not whispered in an apparently lucid moment, just as he passed out, “Please help me… Can you help me? I need Sire. Where’s Sire?”

Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic
  • 0 comments