Alone In His Head

Gabriel felt.

He didn't want to feel, didn't want the sensation of having his heart ripped out, didn't want the rising passion and anger and love that coursed through his veins, that boiled over whenever he looked at her.

She was in his arms, he was carrying her into the hotel room, being gentle--gentle!--making sure to cradle her head, to set her softly on the bed. Hunger coursed through him, and he found himself walking to the window, looking ravenously at the city down below. He swallowed it back.

Another night. He'd hunt, he'd kill, he'd live. But not tonight.

He closed his eyes, felt in his head for any alien presence, anything that wasn't him. But there was no Mera. And no Gabe.

He'd almost gotten used to the whining brat's snivelling presence, had almost accepted that he would always, always exist. And then the little twerp found Degas, and Gabriel was truly afraid.

Gabriel might have been arrogant, but it was Gabe who had the recklessness to think that he could outwit a vampire that had been alive for hundreds of years. Who thought that he could learn, that the man would somehow be tricked by a boy who'd barely managed to get his homework in on time, let alone defeat a hundred years of practice in under a week.

It was Gabe who was falling, who was unconsciously offering up his humanity and his soul, who didn't even know that he was becoming more and more the Prince's with every passing night. And it was Gabriel who was holding him back. Gabriel who struggled to the surface, whose iron core defied Degas with every breath, every word.

He couldn't blame Gabe. He thought that the humanity would have broken long ago, would have receded, left him alone. And stronger men than a college-aged philosophy major had fallen victim to masters like this. It was impressive. . .but it wasn't enough. Gabe had broken, but Gabriel wouldn't be ruled.

The truth was undeniable; he had changed. And so had Gabe. Gabriel had no doubt that, someday, they'd be the same person. The prospect terrified him, had driven him to act rashly. But now that the urge to hunt and kill wasn't all consuming. . .it was easier. He might survive. Might not go out in a futile blaze of stupidity or hedonism. He could even touch the edge of Gabe's magic, now could control it as though it were his. And. . .it might've been. He didn't know. But though Gabe's magic remained, Gabe was gone, vanished into the shadowy parts of Gabriel's consciousness.

He looked at Mera, felt a surge of anger that began somewhere below his navel and surged upwards, filling him. Kiernan. The son of a bitch.

It had been Gabe's fault, Gabe who had chased the man after catching him killing, Gabe whose righteous anger had so infuriated the man. Gabe who had allowed Mera to be taken.

No. Gabriel had been there, too. It made no difference--where one was, the other followed. He couldn't blame Gabe entirely. He was there, too.

And he would make it right. Kiernan was dead. It wouldn't even be a quick death. Gabe wouldn't bitch; lately, the human had felt nothing beyond mild worry or slight amusement. It was Gabriel whose passions ran deep. Who would enjoy this kill.

How It All Began

It started with Thai food.

Gabe had been craving it for over a week, but had held off since the only restaurant was on the bad side of town. While he wasn't normally a nervous sort, even he knew that walking around downtown after dark was a bad idea. Better to wait until morning, pick it up and reheat it for dinner. When the craving struck at ten o'clock at night, though. . .well, it wasn't as though the restaurant was on campus, and he didn't want to wait until morning.

He'd almost called Mera to have her come with; he didn't know whether she'd ever had Thai before, but he was sure she'd enjoy it. The place closed in half an hour, though, and he didn't think he'd have time to wait for her. If he had. . .

. . .well, it could've gone better, or worse. Gabe wasn't going to think about that. Too many variables.

He was almost to the restaurant when he heard the woman scream. It was faint and far off, and seemed to be coming from the lower level of a parking garage. The intelligent part of his brain told him to keep walking, to pretend he hadn't heard the noise, to hurry and get his tom yam soup and spicy noodles. The deeper, more emotional part of made him stop in his tracks. No matter what culinary pleasures he might miss, he had to at least go down there and make sure everything was all right. Maybe he could help. Maybe she'd just seen a rat..

A big rat. The two-legged version.

He ran down into the garage and saw her pressed against the wall, eyes wide, staring at the menacing man across from her, terrified. Gabe didn't even think, didn't even consider that he could walk away and get to the restaurant before it closed.

He'd never been a football star, but he knew enough about the game to affect a decent tackle. He came in hard at the guys knees, knocking him aside. The woman, suddenly released from her paralyzing fear, ran up and out of the garage as the man grabbed Gabe by the collar and threw him several feet away into the concrete wall.

The impact winded him; he was sure he felt at least two of his ribs crack, and it hurt worse than anything he'd ever felt in his life. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman running up the stairs; she was far enough now. She was safe.

He wasn't.

The man loomed over him, fire blazing in his eyes, a faint smile of amusement growing on his face. Gabe struggled for breath as the man raised him up one handed.

"She got away," the man said, voice almost reasonable. "I suppose that means you did a good job. It'll be the last good thing you'll ever do."

Gabe swallowed hard and supressed the urge to break down crying. It wouldn't help. The man's grip was like steel, and there was no chance of running away. He looked the man in the eyes and forced himself to take a shuddering breath. "You gonna kill me?"

The response was laughter, dark and manic, filling the garage with a sense of dread. "Yes, I suppose I am. . .but you'll get over it. You'll be like me." He grinned, revealing long, pointed fangs. "That will be your despair as I take you, and you fall into darkness."

In one blurred motion, the man jerked his head forward and bit into Gabe's neck. The pain inspired a terror greater than anything he'd ever experienced in his life; it was raw, powerful, primal. It seemed to be radiating from the man in front of him, filling his mind, taking him over. He drew breath and tried to scream, but found that all he could manage was a wet, gurgling noise.

It was over quickly. Gabe found himself slumped on the ground, vision gradually growing dim. Suddenly, a wrist was pressed to his lips, and blood like hot spiced wine was falling into his mouth. He could barely think, but he could tell the blood was a bad thing. He tried to spit it out, but didn't have the strength. A hand cupped his nose, blocked it, and the blood filled his mouth. His lungs screaming for air, Gabe finally swallowed it, felt it burning through him, all the way down, filling him with a fiery heat. His mouth filled again, and again, and he swallowed, desperate for air.

Suddenly, even the air he got wasn't enough; it felt as though his entire body was on fire, and like a heavy weight was crushing his chest. His head fell to the ground, cheek resting against the cool concrete, and his vision faded to a nothingness that seemed infinite. The last thing he heard was the stranger's laugh, echoing against the walls and following him into death.

Dawn Rising

Gabe carried Mera across the city and to his dorm room. He knew he was supposed to find carrying her hard, tiring, but he didn't. She felt light, almost weightless in his arms. While he walked, he couldn't keep from grinning.

This must be what getting high feels like.

Drinking the vampire's blood was a high. Gabe felt strong, powerful, and more clear-headed than he had since he became a vampire. Mera had held him here, had kept him sane, had prevented him from falling back into the abyss. And yet. . .there was an underlying note of sadness that permeated everything.

As sure as he'd felt the power, and the high, Gabe had also felt his body change. Maybe there had been some hope of getting him back before this, but now. . .he'd felt the last parts of him shift, change, alter. Something about it felt permanent. He was now certain that he'd never be human again.

And, one by one, he would have to abandon everything that had ever meant anything to him. Friends. . .family. . .even Mera, eventually, when she got her life back together and tired of spending time in the shadows.

He didn't want to think about that. Balancing Mera with one arm, he unlocked the door of the dorm room. His roommate looked up in alarm.

"Gabe," he said, eyes wide. "Man, what happened to you? You look like shit."

Gabe looked him square in the face, catching his eyes with his own. "Leave, David. Pack up and leave. Don't come back for three days."

David's face went slack, then he nodded and started packing robotically. Within five minutes, he was dressed and gone. As soon as he left, Gabe set Mera down on the futon gently, covering her with the comforter, then sighed and leaned against the doorframe.

He knew he was taking a gamble. He didn't know how much control the master vampire had over him now, or whether he even know about the dorm room. Gabe thought about drinking the blood, feeling it spill like warm, spicy wine down his throat, and wondered how he'd managed to hang on.

He looked warmly at Mera. I hope she isn't too mad at me when she wakes up. . .

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Okay. Ideas. Looking to share them. Sirk and Mera, weigh in? And, hell, Blue, you weigh in too, seeing as you're reading this.

I have a few questions. Some of these stem from insecurity.

1.) Should Mera and Gabe take on the head vampire next?

2.) Would the head vampire now have control over Gabe?

3.) Should Gabe still be struggling with his dark side, or is that shit getting old?

4.) Afterwards. . .could have a lot of things. Other villians--wizards perhaps? ;-) Not above picking on myself, after all. A switch where Gabe becomes the human and Mera becomes the vampire? Werewolves? Don't know what the hell to do with werewolves, but there should be wolves if there are vamps. More allies? An evil government agency that wants to kill them both? Or just more head vampire angst?

Awakened

Gabe woke up that night at sunset, and saw the Mera was still asleep. With a pang, he realized that the previous evening's events must've completely exhausted her. . .and the blood loss probably hadn't helped, either. For the he-didn't-know-how-many-th time, he swore at himself. It was stupid of him to have attacked her, to have hurt her. He'd feel bad for that forever.

Trying not to make any noise, he fumbled around the room, looking for the obligatory hotel pad of paper and pen. After a few minutes, he found it, stowed away in the drawer that held the Gideon Bible. Gabe made sure not to touch it as he fished out the paper and wrote his note.

Mera--gone out for food. Will be back. Do Not Leave!

He resisted the urge to draw a frowny face with fangs at the end of the message; he was worried she'd take it the wrong way. Quietly, he set the notepad down and left the room, closing the door with a silent snick.

The streets were bustling with people; it was still early enough that they were out shopping, socializing, or even working. Gabe liked it that way. With so many people. . .one wouldn't be missed. Not right away.

He thought back to the vampire who made him, and wished fervently that he were here. Everything was confusing. The further he got from Mera, the harder it was to remember what it was she'd told him to do.

There was one thing that he remembered perfectly, something that he had tried to tell her last night, but had given up on since she was so tired. He was Gabriel. Gabe was Gabriel. They were one and the same. To have believed otherwise was foolishness.

In the back of his head, there was a persistant, nagging voice that told him that wasn't true, that he wasn't Gabriel, that Gabriel was someone else, a demon. He silenced that voice. If they weren't the same. . .then why did he feel the way he did around his friend? Why did he want to protect her, keep her safe, do anything to keep her from crying?

The further away he got, the more tenuous his hold became. He could still feel Mera, faintly, at the back of his consciousness. . .but she was distant, sleeping. He tried to push her away. He was a hunter, and he had to do what he had to do. She didn't want to see that; she didn't understand, and he would protect her from it.

But he was doing what he was supposed to be doing.

Even though it felt wrong.

He caught sight of a pretty girl walking down the street. She flipped her blonde hair behind her shoulder, walked confidently down the street. Gabe smiled; she was perfect.

That same nagging voice rose to the surface, a thought rising, unbidden, through his eagerness.

What am I doing?

Hunting.

With one, smooth motion, he stepped out in front of her, and flashed a dazzling smile. He lowered his sunglasses and caught her eye.

"Come with me."

It didn't take much pushing; she followed him into a nearby alley, practically clinging to him. Her will was weak. He would play his favorite game with her.

She would run. He would catch her. He would claim her before taking her. His voice came out smooth, unnaturally calm and charming.

"I know you're scared. . .but I'm going to let you go."

============================================

After the hunt, he took her limp body and placed it behind the dumpster. He walked away, and as he did, the memories grew foggier, indistinct. He knew that he was out for something; he remembered the light dying in her eyes and sighed happily.

But. . .something else. A chocolate shake.

He stopped off at a small cafe, walked out a few minutes later with a cold paper cup, and headed back to the hotel, sated and happy to be coming home.