Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2002 02:33:24 +0000 From: Nathan Wolf Subject: Blond Angel (Chapter 1) OK, this is Chapter 1 of the Blond Angel. It took me a while to put it together, mainly because I wanted to give it some time. The ending of Blood Angel was rather dramatic, and I wanted to leave it like that for a while so it could sink in. But anyway, this is continuation of the Blood Angel, and I hope it ends up being at least as half as popular as the Blood Angel was. Thanx to everyone who kept e-mailing me over the course of last few months. Your support really meant a lot to me. Now the usual crap... BSB and N'Sync are not gay... blah, blah... Don't read if you're underage... blah, blah... Now here's the story. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PROLOGUE AJ was breaking the chains from JC's ankles and arms with an old, rusty hammer, while JC simply hung there, with his head down and his eyes closed. His breathing was barely recognizable. He was covered in dirt and dust... he smelled like death. The whole gas station smelled like death. Robby was on his knees next to Brian... they held each other like they have no intention of ever letting go. Justin was on his knees too, screaming and weeping so loud that AJ didn't think he could ever get those desperate screams out of his head. He knew he was going to hear them for the rest of his life. Justin had shook off every hand of comfort, and wanted to be alone with his grief... so everyone let him alone. Colleen stood in the middle of the parking lot, ordering the rest of her troops. She had sent couple of them to get help, and the ones who weren't seriously wounded, she sent to look for those who might be more seriously injured. Lance stood on the ground below AJ and JC, holding his knife, waiting for AJ to lower JC down. AJ stole a look to where Colleen was standing. Right behind her stood a steel pole, smashed into cement and standing straight. On the top of it, a bloodied head grinned at everyone around it. It was Dom's head. Colleen had cut it off mercilessly, as if he was lower than a vampire. His head was there to remind everyone of the price of betrayal. Finally lowering JC's body down, AJ couldn't notice anything else. JC was in terrible shape. His hands were cold and blue, his whole body lifeless and his breath ragged and slow. The sirens of emergency vehicles moaned couple of streets down. Picking up JC in his arms like a child, he motioned to Lance to follow him, and started walking as quickly as his legs would allow him to. The sirens moved closer and closer, and AJ took a first deep breath that night. It was over. It was finally over. Chapter 1 "Justin. Justin!" Justin blinked, as if he was waking up from a dream and stared straight into Lance's concerned eyes. He couldn't remember what he was thinking, but it didn't seem that important. He couldn't allow himself to doze off so often. No matter how much control he had over himself, some thoughts still couldn't be stopped. Some thoughts were deadly. Thinking was deadly. "Justin, is everything OK?" OK? Of course everything was OK. That's what Lance wanted to hear. That everything was beautiful and life was a perfect place. That's what they all want to hear. That's what he has been saying for the past month or so. But life wasn't beautiful. No, things weren't OK. Nothing was OK. How could they possibly understand how much pain one person can be carrying around. How much self-loathing and love for death. How black someone's heart can be. He wanted to strangle Lance, instead he managed a weak smile, "Yeah, everything is fine." "Are you sure?" Goddmanit, how many times would he have to repeat that life is peachy before they leave him alone? How many stupid questions is he gonna have to answer? He was so tired. Tired of them, tired of life, tired of everything. He wanted to scream at Lance, but he had no energy for that. He had no energy for anything. Everything he tried to eat tasted like ashes, and everything he tried to do all of the sudden became so hard. He had to use all of his will power just to get out of the bed in the morning, and shove some toast down his throat. All his rage stayed bundled up inside, and he spoke softly, "I'm OK Lance, I really am. Could I be alone for a while?" Lance just nodded looking at him with eyes full of sympathy, and left the room quietly, closing the door behind him. Justin wanted to scream. He didn't want Lance's sympathy, and he definitely didn't want to look at the pity in JC's eyes. He didn't even want empathy... he didn't want anything from them. He just wanted to be left alone, to himself, to himself and his own decisions about his life. But they would not leave him alone, they would not let him be by himself and that made him angrier than anything else. Grabbing a vase next to his chair, he smashed it against the door. He hated his life, but he figured out a way to get out of it for good. God, that seemed like heaven... and maybe it would be. Justin wasn't sure, but he didn't care enough. He just wanted to sleep. Forever. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lance winced as something crashed against the door behind him. He knew it was another lamp or vase, or anything Justin could get a hold of. He was afraid for Justin, although his therapist said that he should be fine in couple of months. He was still afraid. They couldn't take him to the hospital or anything... couldn't risk Justin's madness appearing on every single morning newspapers. Justin wouldn't talk to any of them. He refused to talk period... Lance tried, JC tried... even Joey tried to cheer him up. But Justin hadn't smiled once sine the whole 'accident' as JC came to calling it. Justin hasn't been eating, sleeping, or communicating since then. All of the sudden he had started getting seizures, although he had never had them before. Already, he was on 600 milligram Neurontins which would make a chronic depressant happy. He shivered rubbing his arms; the house was freezing cold. Winter in their beach house on Cape Cod was not the most pleasant thing, but it was the only place where they were sure that the media couldn't find them. It's been a month since they moved there and in that whole month Justin hadn't left his room once. If they didn't bring him food on regular basis he wouldn't eat at all. He would starve to death and not even notice. Lance couldn't say that he knew exactly how Justin felt, but he had a pretty good idea. He still had nightmares, still woke up in the middle of the night, screaming in terror, still seeing millions of vampire faces around him. But he knew that it was different with Justin. Justin lost someone he loved more than himself, someone who knew all his thoughts and his pains. Justin had lost a part of himself, and there was no way of getting it back. Walking into the living room, he was startled by Joey who was standing right in front of the door. Chris and JC stood little further away next to the couch, and the looks they shot at each other could have frozen the hell over twice. JC had recovered quickly because most of his injuries weren't serious, but he still had chain bruises on his wrists and ankles. The doctor had said that he is going to have those scars for the rest of his life. That didn't seem to bother JC that much. He and AJ have been glued at each others hip since the battle, and since the BSB were staying in Boston for couple of weeks JC took every chance he could to drive up there and see him. Lance felt as if they've all gotten closer to each other in the past month. But it certainly didn't look like they have now. Closing the door, he leaned on them already tired, "What's going on here?" Joey seemed to be fuming, "They are fucking uncaring bastards, that's what's going on." JC's fingers on the table edge turned white, "Fuck you! What have you ever done for him? I fed him, clothed him, waited on him hand and foot!... I'm sick and tired of it! I think he needs professional help, type of help that a mental institution could give." Joey's eyes glittered dangerously, "So you wanna put him into a nut house... I see. Well, with the way you seem to treat people you care about and your friends, I don't think I wanna be your friend. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll decide I need to go to a nut house too." "You fucking... I'm just trying to..." Lance had enough, "Shut the fuck up! Everyone! Justin is not going to a mental hospital. Joey, go out and cool off. JC, if you mind so much taking care of him, then I'll do it. This discussion is over." Joey stormed out slamming the door behind him, and JC dropped on the couch burying his head in his hands. Chris just stood there looking somewhere beyond the walls, lost in his own thoughts. Lance felt like sitting down and burying his head in his hands too, but he suppressed that urge and rounded on JC and Chris instead, "You fucking know very well that we can't put Justin into a mental institution. We agreed it's not going to happen and that's all there is to it. What is the fucking use of bringing it up and making Joey upset?" JC just shrugged. Chris spoke in a distant voice, "It keeps us away from growing numb." He focused on Lance, "Don't you feel like that sometimes? Like your mind is dead and nothing really matters any more? I don't even know why are we still fighting to keep everyone in the dark about what's been going on. Maybe he really needs professional help... what if he's only getting worse?" "He's not. The therapist said he's going to be fine. Doing something like that would only fuck up his chance of ever having career again." "Who cares about his fucking career!? What if he dies?!?!" Lance couldn't remember what he was going to say next. The room went deathly silent and he could hear Chris' and JC's breathing. Then Chris pushed past him and took off, slamming the door with as much force as Joey did. JC looked up at Lance, his eyes desperate for a solution, for some sign that everything will be OK. Instead of saying something comforting, Lance all of the sudden felt more tired than he had in years. Averting his eyes from JC's face, he left the room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin curled up under his blankets and decided to attempt to fall asleep. But his mind still raced with the painful memories he had tried so hard to forget. His mind kept recalling every detail that burned like hot steel, leaving marks where no one could see them. ......Someone's weight pressed down on his back, and he felt hot breath on the back of his neck: "Scream again and I swear I'll cut your tongue out." Justin closed his mouth breathing heavily through his nose. He could barely breathe enough to form a sentence: "Who are you?" "My name is Derrick... you invaded my mind. I want to know why and how." ......Derrick looked young, possibly in his twenties if not younger. His hair flew in soft waves down to his shoulders, and his eyes were the deepest, darkest brown Justin had ever seen on a man.... "You called me human... What are you." Derrick looked at him suddenly, his eyes piercing Justin's soul: "I'm a vampire." Then he continued pacing. Couple of seconds later, he faced Justin again: "What's your name?" "Justin." "Justin... pretty name for a pretty boy..." ......"Justin, that was the final decision. You can't defend yourself... We don't want to put you in unnecessary risk..." Justin refused to accept that: "No, I'm not staying... give me a gun and I'll defend myself." Kevin seemed to be running out of nerves, so Lance took over: "Justin you are staying here; and that's final." Justin wanted to scream. He could almost feel Derrick leaving... slipping away in darkness. He reached for Derrick and his mind swirled violently, making his knees weaken. Derrick's voice broke the spell and Justin took in a deep breath, feeling a pounding headache coming up. Then he actually understood what Derrick was saying: "Justin is coming with me." Lance seemed to be waiting for explanation on Derrick's last sentence, but when it became obvious that he wasn't getting one, he tried to change Derrick's mind one last time: "He can't protect himself..." Derrick cut him off sharply: "He doesn't need to. I'll protect him... with my life." ......Derrick spoke quietly: "Justin... if I don't survive this..." Justin felt panic seize him: "No! Don't say that... no one is going to die... everything is gonna be OK..." Derrick silenced him by putting a finger to his lips: "Please, just listen. If I don't survive tonight... I want you to know something. I... I forgot a lot about myself while trying to be a vampire... I forgot a lot of emotions, what it means to care, to really care about something..." He got quiet for a second as if gathering his thoughts. His words came out shaky, nervous, as if didn't want to say what he was saying, but he had no other choice: "When I met you that changed. Everything changed. You showed me a life I had forgotten... emotions I buried deep inside of me... You shoved me what it means to love..." Justin gripped his hand tightly, his heart beating like wild. He could now clearly feel the emotions coming from Derrick... emotions he never thought were possible. Derrick kept talking, his voice strangled and cracked: "You showed me what it mans to be human... and then I realized one thing... I love you." ......All of the sudden, Derrick stopped in his tracks and took a hold of Justin's arm. Pointing towards a ray of light that was glittering through the crumbling walls of something that could have at some point been a playground, he whispered in his low, cracked voice: "We move this way, as soon as we hear Colleen. I want you to stay here and-" "No!" "Justin-" "I said no! I'm coming with you!" Derrick stared at him for the longest time and then turned away. ........It was Derrick.... Derrick with his sword shooting up directly at Mike's heart. At the same instant that Mike's piercing scream shot through the wind, his sword fell where it had aimed for Robby's heart. Instead, it pierced Derrick.... ...Justin cried out and threw his weapon down, running towards Derrick.... By the time he got there, only Robby was laying on the dirty hard cement, covered in dust softer than velvet. The fight was over.... Justin screamed desperately into his pillow, memories crashing into him from all sides, smashing against his body like rocks, sharp and deadly. His body contorted under the covers and his hands gripped the soft bed sheets leaving faint stains from his sweaty fingers. He wanted to die... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Town cemetery gave off musty smell of decay. The wind carelessly whipped the branches of evergreen trees trying to compose its own death march, while the leaves passively rolled across abandoned graves. The sky wept loudly while a pale hand gently placed a bouquet of jasmins in front of a marble gravestone. Blood red letters on it read: "Derrick D. Johnson, 1979-1998, loved brother and son." The hand carefully wiped the dirt and dust off the gravestone while the rain drops carresed it softly, washing off the rest. The figure in black then rose, pale hands quickly retreating into the coat pockets, and turned away from the grave not looking back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1 month later "Five... four... three... two... one!" An explosion shook the earth violently, and bright light blinded everything in sight. Tall, black building standing alone in the outskirts of the city flamed up like a violent torch. Screams of panic echoed through the darkness while the wailing of the fire alarm could be heard for miles. Two black shapes, faces down against the ground lay deathly still. One of them extended his right hand and slamming his fist against the ground, seemed to be ticking off seconds. On the tenth hit, the deafening sound of machine gun tore through the screams and sirens. The black shapes rose off the ground swiftly and ran towards the back off the building. The barb wire in between them and the back of the building was flat on the ground, and the grass was dotted with dead bulldogs, their heads blown away with one precise gun shot. The front of the building was still in flames while the feel of panic was heavy in the air. The fire lit the sky up like the early morning sun would. As the two figures in black reached the wall of the building, a voice rose behind them, "Hey! Who the hell are you!? You need to evacuate right now! There's a fire..." He never got to finish his sentence. Even before it was clear that one of the shapes turned around, a storm of bullets left only a bloody heap on the ground. One of the shapes, a man by build, with a black trench coat and black ski mask, pulled out a small package from the inside of his pocket, then carefully placed it against the wall of the building. The other shape, similarly dressed but a woman by build, immediately pulled back and dropped on the ground, while the man joined her hurriedly. Some ten seconds later, another explosion shook the building, and an orchestra of machine guns followed it readily. Screams seemed to be floating in the air, like they could be felt and tasted. The man and the woman ran to the opening in the wall that the second explosion caused, but before they reached it, a man stepped out in front of them. As soon as they reached him, he collapsed in their arms. His long black hair was dirty and tangled, while the bruises made his face almost unrecognizable. The woman shook him, her arms unsteady for the first time that night, "Nathan?... Nathan?!...." The man picked him up like he was a child and hissed, "He's OK. No time for that now. We need to get out." As soon as the last words left his mouth, a jeep appeared from the darkness, pulling next to them with tires screeching painfully. The man opened the back door and crawled in, still holding Nathan in his arms. The woman crawled in behind them, and the jeep took off leaving a wall of dust behind. As soon as they were out of the view of the building, the woman took her mask off. Checking on Nathan and making sure that he really is going to be OK, she took a deep breath. Her fire red hair shaped a round face with high cheek bones and almond shaped blue eyes. Her mouth was a red wound, revealing two rows of perfect teeth, and her voice flew gracefully, giving away bits and pieces of Russian accent. She spoke with a smile on her face, "We did it. Damian, we did it!" The man named Damian took his mask off and smiled back. He was young, possibly in his twenties, with soft, deep brown eyes, and light brown hair that flew in waves down to his shoulders. His voice was as deep and beautiful as his face, "Yes, we did it." End of Chapter 1 So, what do you think??? Criticize, criticize, criticize....