You gotta do this. They'll be happier if you just do this...she'll be happier.
Wyatt Dixon had never given much thought to his life or how he wanted to live out the rest of it. From a very young age the shifter had all but given up on the thought that he would be someone great, someone people would remember -- he was an average guy that most forgot about, it had always been the way. He wasn't as smart as most people, didn't really have the knack of conversation or the social skills and his temper was always an aspect of his life that he couldn't control, no matter how much he had tried. The shifter never really had people that he loved and gave a shit about, instead his whole life had been some sort of magical lie and no one had any answers about that, or who in fact his real parents were. It had started dawning on him lately that he really had no idea who he was or where he came from, that obviously it wasn't all that important to any one, that his life didn't actually matter in the grand scheme of things. Wyatt had moments in his life where he had felt completely helpless, but none more so then recently as everything around him that had made sense over the past few months seemed to not mean anything at all, to unravel in his hands and no matter what he did, what he said; he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.
As he walked along the dirt road the last rays of the sun decided to set on the day and leave him in darkness for a moment as the stars above lit themselves up to watch over everyone. He had spent the day gathering the items he needed that Anika had told him he would need, although he was sure she had no idea he was going down this road. The dirt from the graveyard was taken from in front of her tombstone, he didn't know why he had specifically gone there, but felt that it was necessary for what was about it happen.
Okay, just bury the thing and get this over with....just, no point backing out now dick.
When he reached the crossroads, the shifter didn't hesitate on burying the little tin in his hands as he quickly covered it with dirt, trying to hide it from himself that his hands were shaking. The shifter rose to his feet as he stood in the middle of the deserted roads, nothing but the stars to keep him company as he waited, not really too sure of what exactly was supposed to happen but that's when the smell hit him; sulphur. There's someone behind you.
"You can turn around, honey; this isn't the painful part" her voice made his heart leap from his chest and although he knew she was there, it didn't stop him from quickly turning around in fear, one that he tried to mask as best he could, although he didn't believe the lie himself "-- you're the one that makes the deal, right? You who I gotta talk to?" He had taken a few steps forward without really realizing it, the moment overwhelming him for the most part; it wasn't exactly something that he did on a daily basis. The demon in front of him was beautiful and she looked like an angel until her red eyes flashed at him, something she got her kicks from "Yes honey, I'm the one you need to talk to. We don't get too many shifters coming here asking us for deals -- aren't you a brave little thing" his head lowered a little bit, intimidated with what she was, what she might know but he had to remind himself that he was there for a reason, that he had a purpose in all of this; that he could make her happy with something as simple as asking for her life back. Absent-mindedly he started to crack his knuckles, the words getting caught in his throat but it seemed that she was there to help him as her hand suddenly was on the side of his cheek -- was she trying to offer him comfort? "You came here for something, how about we talk about that, see what can be done for my little shifter" Wyatt rose his head a little, his eyes forcing themselves to look into her red ones "Zoe Hart. She died about a week ago -- I wanna, I -- I want to make a deal and for her to be back, for her to just be alive and then you can have my soul. That's how this works, right? Life for a life, or soul or whatever" reminding himself to breathe, Wyatt stood silent waiting for an answer, to see if any of this was even possible and her next words actually shocked him "I know the witch that you're talking about, she was meant to be one of ours but some angel thought they'd intervene with that plan. But now look, here you are just willing to give up your soul and bring her back down to earth where we will get another chance at claiming her and we will take her, well aren't you just the sweetest thing. Hmm. Yes, I think I can do that for you, Wyatt. I'll bring the witch back, just as she was, all brand new and you, well considering the nature of this and you're a shifter and it isn't easy ripping people from heaven -- five years"
Heaven.. he thought to himself. She had gone to heaven. That meant she was at peace that she was okay and not suffering...could he really rip her out of a place like that? Not to mention everything the bitch in front of him had just said about wanting to claim her --- god, he was way over his head and he knew it, knew that this was a mistake and beyond insane...this wasn't right, but they hadn't kissed yet so it didn't mean anything...right? Wyatt almost fumbled over his feet trying to take a step away from the red eyed monster, wanting nothing more then to shift and get the hell out of there "Come on, Wyatt, we have a deal to seal and a witch to bring back" he wasn't saying anything, didn't want to further fuel whatever was going on and certainly didn't want to say something stupid and get himself further into a situation he couldn't get out of but it was weird because one moment he was completely terrified and knew he had made a mistake and the next, well the next it felt as though it was the greatest idea he had ever heard and who needed to be in heaven any way -- he had came here to make a deal, he should be making a deal; shouldn't he?
It was completely lost on the shifter that a man stood to the right of them, someone he had never seen before and someone that maybe he would never see again but the man was part of something bigger and he loved whispering in people's ears, making them do things that perhaps they shouldn't have -- Wyatt never stood a chance and as noble as his decision might have been at the start, now it was just some push from a halfbreed demon who was involved in something bigger "Okay, yeah. Five years. You bring her back and you've got yourself a deal" the words didn't feel like his own, they felt foreign as he said them and as soon as she said "Deal" her lips crashed against his, cold and soulless as writing appeared on his flesh and disappeared as soon as it had appeared and like that, he was alone.
Wait....what the fuck just happened? Hey! Come back! I didn't want this! I changed my mind! Come back!
Ashton didn't quite know what to do with himself. The fight with his brother had taken everything out of him, left him feeling drained and empty. Everything in the apartment was destroyed, torn apart in his rage that had left him feeling like another lost soul.
He wasn't sure if it was hours or days that had passed, but either way, he knew one thing -- he wasn't alone.
At first, he thought it was his own heart beating in the still darkness, a faint, quick-paced thing that drummed in his ears like a sweet melody. He even laughed -- he sounded like a hummingbird. Like he had the heart of a little mouse. After a while though, he realized that that would be quite impossible. His heart was dead and black and shrunken, and had been for a thousand years.
Pushing himself off of the floor, bits of glass falling out of his skin and hair, he stumbled towards the bedroom, self-inflicted wounds slowly healing. The sound of the heartbeat grew stronger, thrumming loudly in his own ears, and he swallowed against the growing tide of fear. What had he to fear?
The room was dimly lit, orange streaks of light from the setting sun lancing across the ceiling, casting deep shadows. His room had remained largely untouched, as had Anika's. It was the rest of the apartment that had suffered. His bed was a mess though, pillows strewn everywhere, blood stains in the covers, but there was a lump that moved, fitfully and then steadily. Like somebody was beneath the covers breathing. Not an adult, judging by the size. A child.
Slowly, Ashton crept into the room, blood-shot eyes, staring at the tiny lump of covers that sighed and shifted, a tiny hand flopping out. Ashton knew those little fingers well, had spent nights counting them with his son, mock-biting until Abel shrieked with laughter and wiggled free. It's not real, he told himself, over and over as he came closer and closer. It's not real.
The covers he gently pulled back, revealing blonde hair and flushed cheeks, eyes shut with slumber. He'd been drawing that face for centuries now, but this was real. "Abel," he whispered, leaning over the bed, one hand holding him up as the other settled gently across the boy's back. His breathe rattled in his chest, labored and fitful, and Ashton could feel the heat rising from him, seeping into his cold fingers. Abel stirred, big blue eyes opening sleepily, a small cough shaking his shoulders as he sat up and rubbed at his face. And then his little arms were wrapping themselves around Ashton's neck, pulling him down and he buried his face in Ashton's shoulder. It's not real.
But it didn't matter if it was real or not. He was touching him, had his son in his arms again. Picking him up, he cradled the toddler against his chest, eyes darting blindly around the room. He couldn't keep him here. Not when Anika could come back at any moment, storm in and see him playing with a -- a ghost. Taking care of an imaginary child.
Grabbing a jacket and his wallet, he headed out into the night with his son bundled up in his arms, all the way across town to the small loft he had started renting out weeks ago. It was sparsely furnished, and cold, but he quickly turned this heat on and had Abel wrapped under layers and layers of blankets as he rested at the foot of the bed with not a clue as to how to handle this. He wanted his brother. He wanted Harley, but the thought of letting him see him like this was -- unbearable.
"Dad," Abel mumbled, shifting around under the covers. Ashton swallowed and turned around, pushing his hair out of his face. Abel held his arms out to him, and Ashton kneed his way up the bed to lay down next to him, one arm wrapping solidly around his son while Abel curled up against his chest. "Love you dad."
Just Another Fucking Nightmare :|: Ashton Valentine
There's a thin line between love and hate, and Ashton seemed to be crossing that line more and more with his father day by day. Where was the bastard when his children were dying? Where was he when they were laughing? Crying? Living?
It was restless thoughts like these that kept Ashton awake at night, long past when the blood began trickling from his ears and nose. He could spend a day staring up at the ceiling, watching the shafts of light cutting through the blinds shift and angle themselves until they were replaced with the barbarous light of the orange streetlamps outside. The little spat with his brother certainly didn't help, despite its seeming insignificance. They would brush it off like they always did, cold looks and flat words quickly forgotten. Harley was his brother, and his maker, and their relationship would always be a possessive, toxic one. Even if they didn't see it. Even if they did.
Eventually, though, sleep did come, heavy and oppressive, the world turning black and white and dead. But so -- visceral. Fuck, he hated lucid dreams.
"Dad!"
Ashton's eyes snapped open, the vampire pushing greasy golden locks from his face, rubbing tired eyes. The rings on his fingers pinched, and scowling, he took off all but one. He was hearing shit again.
He swung his legs out of bed, shoulders hunching forward as he gathered his thoughts, a tangled weave of irritation and apathy.
"Daddy!"
He jerked his head up so fast his neck cracked, muscles straining against each other. Cautiously, he got to his feet, sweat pants hanging low on his hips. His skin felt warm he realized, beads of moisture on his chest, rolling down his shoulder blades. The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end, his skin tingling. Why was he so nervous?
The door pushed itself open before he got to it, and he blinked. Outside was a dead oak tree in a field of yellow-brown grass. The wind screamed in the hollows, quiet but shrill enough to distract his senses. But none of that mattered. Because he was there. Sitting between the roots, playing in the dirt. Making mud pies, dark smudges on his chubby cheeks, all smiles as he seemed to beckon for his father to come play with him.
"Abel?" The name fell from his tongue like a heavy stone, his stomach flipping over with elation. He knew it was a dream. It had to be a dream. Of course it was a dream. But he could enjoy this. Right?
Wrong.
"Ashton Valentine."
He whipped around at the sound of his name, immediately stepping back, arms slightly bent away from his body, an automatic defensive position between Abel and whoever it was speaking to him. He'd seen her before, but not for a very, very long time.
"Don't tell me you don't remember me. I remember you." Her voice was soft, a lilting accent that dripped malice, even as her lips curved in an empty smile. "Or rather, I remember what you did. You've been a very naughty boy, Ashton Valentine."
Ashton's lips curled, the veins around his eyes growing blacker by the second, pupils dilating. She laughed, high and cruel.
"Don't be so droll. I wouldn't dream of attacking you. No matter what you've done to my family." The world seemed to darken, Ashton glancing back over his shoulder at Abel who continued blissfully playing in the mud, completely unaware. When he turned back she was but a few inches from his face. "You took my sons from me. My daughter. My babies."
A pause, long and heavy.
"I'm going to give yours back."
Ashton didn't say anything. This was just a dream, this wasn't real. Empty promises, empty threats.
"I'm going to give him back to you, so you can lose him all over again. Because when he finds out what you are, he's going to grow up hating you. Hating yours lies, hating the life you dragged him into. That boy's going to blow his brains out before he even becomes a man... Because of you. The awful thing that turned out to be his father."
Anger crested in his chest as she talked, hot and full of shame, but before he could do anything, say anything, she was gone.
And then so was Abel.
His eyes fluttered open, blonde lashes stained pink from blood, hair a tangled, greasy mess. It was just a dream, he told himself with a sinking feeling in his chest.
Rikki's brother had come down to stay with her for a couple of weeks. The young vampire wasn't at all pleased with it, especially since Sage was in town also. She begged her brother to leave town because she didn't want to put him in danger of Sage herself. Rikki didn't know what Sage would do to her brother if she ever saw him. Rikki kept begging her brother to leave and to not come back until Sage was gone. Now, Rikki's brother had no idea who Sage was, and Rikki wasn't about to tell him. She wasn't that much older than him, so even if he happened to lunge at her, she'd be in big trouble since he was twice the size that she was. Luckily for her, her brother respected her, and told her to send him a text when he could return. Now Rikki was just roaming around New Orleans, thinking of a way to see her brother but without Sage knowing about it. It was a difficult task, because Sage seemed to know about everything that she had done. As Rikki found herself walking up the driveway to her home, she saw someone standing on the porch of it. A slight frown appeared on the little vampire's face before she walked gracefully walked on over to them to get a better look.
She had never seen this human before, and wondered if he was a friend of Bobby's." Um, excuse me, sir. May I help you?" She asked as she tried to keep her emotions under control. Rikki didn't know why she was terrified of seeing this man, but she wasn't about to let him know it. He had a scar on the left side of his cheek. His hair was short and black, and had far to much hair gel in it for her liking. His eyes were a piercing brown, Rikki noticed they were guarded. So she couldn't get a read off of them even if she wanted too. He was wearing a long leather coat, which she also found strange, some dark denim jeans, and combat boots. His attire was what made her terrified, she had seen a lot of hunters wear things like this, even though they were suppose to be inconspicuous others seemed to think dressing like this made them fearful. He let a grin appear on his face, which made the scar on his left cheek stand out even more. He lent against the pillar on the deck, and lit a match, allowing him to smoke up in front of her." Do you mind telling me who owns this wonderful piece of land?" He had asked her after inhaling his smoke. Rikki was about to tense but decided against it. Instead she said as calmly as she could." Yes sir, this here is my house." She replied as she stood as tall as she could be, so he didn't think she was intimidated by him. He let out a bellowing laugh before flicking his smoke onto the gravel behind him." Well, is that so?" And before Rikki could even register what was happening, the man lunged at her with a knife in his hands. Once she clicked on she quickly dodged him, and pushed him off the deck and onto the gravel. She didn't want to fight, she hated fighting, but she now knew who this man was, and he wasn't going to leave here without a fight.
"Flight 182, now boarding," the sterile female voice repeated over the clamor of families and businesspeople milling around the terminals. Ashton could feel his annoyance rising -- he wasn't particularly fond of this holiday, and if one more person pushed him--
He was distracted from his murderous thoughts by the smile on Bobby's face as they made it to their terminal and handed their tickets over. Ashton had bought them first class without a second thought, without so much as flinching. What was money to an immortal vampire? Besides, the prospect of sitting in coach with a bunch of rowdy families going home for Christmas didn't appeal to him in the slightest. Better the top of the plane with the stuffy businessmen and women who kept to themselves. Bobby seemed excited anyways, and that was enough to put a small smile on his face.
Once they were settled in their giant leather seats facing each other, Ashton let out a deep, unnecessary breath. He'd been about to slit somebody's throat, and suddenly his throat was aching with thirst. But it was an eight hour flight to Anchorage, and Ashton had a feeling that Bobby would be very uncomfortable if he fed on somebody in front of her, even if he did compel the whole cabin to act like they weren't seeing anything. A stewardess offered him a glass of champagne or a coke and he shook his head, pulling out a flask of whiskey from his pocket and taking a sip.
"You've really never been on a plane before?" He asked curiously, a genuine smile on his lips. Sometimes he forgot that barely anyone was even half his age, or even a quarter. "You're lucky. You should've been on the planes back in the 40's. Felt like a death trap."
