Archive of Our Own

Jim and Blair belong to those silly gits at Petfly and Co.
who have no clue how to take care of them. BUT, the incestuous undead
twins, Camille and Cameron, Karl the wondergoon, and Archer the
mysterious belong to me, ME, ME!! Eh, hem.the only one making
any money here is my therapist.

I dreamed this one, full blown, everything you read here
in my head in full technicolor. Which means one of two things,
either I am spending too much time in Sentinel Land, or I need to
sleep more if this is the kind of thing I get.
This is obviouly part of a larger story, but until I dream the rest
of it or actully work at writing it, this is what you get. POV is
majorly wonky, just warning ya.

Warning! Way, waaaay AU. Vampire!Jim and Blair.

Jim stands at the top of the long, long staircase. The tableau is frozen, a moment in time that he will never forget in any of his long years to come. Camille stands to the right at the bottom of the stairs, smiling her secret smile, as if she will always know something he doesn't. Something that will break his heart. Cameron stands to the left, a near mirror image of his twin except for the absence of the smile. Cameron's face is twisted in hate, where it is directed, no one has ever been able to fathom. Jim thinks it is directed mostly at himself. In the middle, but removed from it all, standing near the entrance, is Archer. One time lover, one time friend, sire....all these Archer has been to him and more. None of it shows on Archer's face. Nothing ever shows on Archer's face. He waits. It is what Archer does.

He hears a scuffle off to the left and his nostrils flare as he picks up a familiar scent. Camille and Cameron turn to look, but Archer never takes his eyes off of Jim. Jim opens his hearing to search for the beloved heartbeat, but finds only silence. He wants to shriek, scream to the heavens at the injustice of it. He only stands and waits.

One of Archer's goons brings him in. His auburn hair is hanging in his face, his clothes are rumpled and torn, spotted with stains that don't bear thinking about. He is muttering, as much to himself as to the thug holding him by one arm. Jim's heightened hearing picks up the familiar mantra; ~I am calm, I am calm.~ He probably doesn't even know he is speaking any more. The goon throws him to the floor at the bottom of the staircase and he lands on his knees, head bent, arms wrapped around his middle, sitting for a moment rocking himself. Then he stills, cocking his head to one side. Jim can hear him scenting, searching for that elusive odor that has caught him, and sees the very moment when he recognizes it. His head comes up, and his eyes raise, up, up and up until he sees Jim at the top of the stairs. Joy so palpable Jim feels he could reach out and touch it blazes from those eyes. Eyes horribly changed, for now they blaze crimson instead of the rich smoky blue they have always been. For though they have turned him they have not allowed him to feed.

Through the contact of their eyes in this moment everything is revealed. Jim feels his love for his partner flow down toward the man kneeling below him, and along that current flows the regret and sorrow he will never be able to fully articulate. From the crimson gaze below flows the love and desire that was always there, and the fear of letting it show. Along the upward current also flows the fear of what he has become and the need, the need for things he doesn't fully understand yet.

Jim sees the tremors running through Blair's body. The shakes that look like the quivering of a junkies body that has gone too long without a fix. He knows what his love needs, knows too that he will not be able to give it to him until this game is played out. This dangerous, horrendous game that could so easily destroy both of them. Keeping his eyes focused on his love, Jim sends one word down the connection, the only thing he will say until this is over.

"Come."

Blair's eyes widen as he hears Jim's voice inside his head. It has cut through the buzzing in his mind, the fire raging in his veins. He thinks a bit more clearly now, and he wonders why Jim just stands there. He turns his head and sees Camille, turns it the other way and sees Cameron. And he knows. Knows what he has to do. This is a test, one that he cannot fail. He knows, somehow, that he is already dead. But there are definitely things worse than death. He looks up the long staircase to where Jim stands. All he has to do is make it to Jim. He almost snorts out loud. All. He puts one hand on the floor and shakily levers himself up. He very carefully does not touch the bottom step. He knows that once he touches the steps he must stay upright, for if he stumbles, if he goes down, he is theirs. They will fall on him and devour him like the beasts that live in their souls. He stands, sways a bit and sees the hunger and unholy glee in Camille's eyes. It makes him stiffen his back and stand straighter. He'll be damned if he's going to give that bitch any satisfaction. He raises his head once more to look at Jim, and knowing that the time has come, places his foot on the first step.

Jim, so solid and still on the outside, is quaking on the inside as he sees Blair take that first step. He trembles with fear, love, need. There is no wondering whether Blair can or cannot do this. He simply must. The alternative is....unthinkable. So he stands, solid and still, and urges his friend, his life, his soul, onward with only his eyes.

The steps are wide, wide enough that two tall men could lay across them end to end and not touch the railings on either side. They are made of marble, white marble with a light grey streak, slippery and smooth and blood would show so bright, bright red upon them. He trudges his way up them, feet heavy, body heavy, soul heavy. On the tenth step his left foot slips a bit and he stutters forward. He hears the twins move, hears a low growl, a menacing warning. He glances up, thinking that Jim's anger and fear have finally been given voice, but meets only wide eyes. He then realizes that the growl came from him. It was a warning. Stay back, I'm not down yet. Fifteen steps and he is slowing. If he still had the ability to breath he knows it would be coming in great whooping gasps. Instead there is only this deadly lassitude that threatens to overwhelm him. It would be so simple to just lay down and let them take him. To bend head and knee and....NO! He shakes himself and once again, twenty second step, stands straight. He. Will. Not. Allow. It. They have taken everything from him, his life, his existence, his right to choose. They will not take any more. And he begins to draw from them. He does not know what he is doing, does not really know that he is doing anything at all. He only knows that as the next steps go by, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six; he is getting stronger instead of weaker. He can feel his will getting stronger, can feel his body gaining strength and control. He feels more than hears the twins behind them, feels their life..unlife?..force being drained from them as they moan and drop. The goon follows shortly, a dull thud on the pristine marble. On the twenty eighth step he gathers himself, leg muscles bunching, newfound strength coiling. Jim's arms open wide, and he launches himself straight into the embrace of the only thing he has left in the world.

Jim holds Blair to him, feeling his face pressed into his neck. He knows that if he does not get them away from here soon, he will not be able to restrain either one of them. Blair's tongue is snaking out, instinct leading the way to the hot meal pulsing just below the skin. He presses a quick kiss to the curls beneath his chin sending as much comfort through their link as possible. ~Soon~ He hears the subvocal whine as Blair presses his lips together, refusing to give those below any more of a show. He needn't worry, Jim thinks as he looks once again to the tableau below, so different now than it was just one short hour ago. The twins and Karl lay insensate on the floor and Jim wonders without really caring if they will survive whatever Blair did. Archer is gazing up the staircase his skin pale even for a 500 year old vampire. A small smile forms on Jim's face as he speaks. "I learned years ago not to underestimate him. You would do well to learn the same lesson. From the looks of things, you may have created your own doom." With that parting shot he clutched Blair even closer to him and winked out of existence, to reappear in his rooms at the very top of the mansion.

End Concious Nightmares: The Test by AngstPuppy: [email protected]

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