Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > I Don't Blame You For Being You

Chapter 1

by killmyending 3 Reviews

He was turned by the charming lead Dandie but now he wants revenge and he's going to have to fight to get it.

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama,Fantasy - Characters:  - Published: 2007/10/09 - Updated: 2007/10/23 - 1611 words

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Author's Note: I haven't submitted in awhile, mainly because I haven't been capable of completing anything worth submission. Maybe unfortunately this is an A Little Less Sixteen Candles fiction because that is one damn inspiring (and damn hot) video clip and I really, truly, couldn't help myself. I had to write it. I don't know if I'm going to finish it though. Hopefully I will but if you like this chapter then please review and tell me so. No guarantees on updates but I promise to try.

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Darkness was invading every corner of the room despite the fact that it was daylight outside. The windows had been boarded up and then dirty sheets had been nailed across the boards to stop any other stray beams of light entering the room. There were only a few dim lamps lighting the room, every now and again one of them would flicker slightly. One of these lamps was placed in the centre of the table that had cards and dollar notes strewn across it.

There were two men sitting at the table, each had a hand of cards and a healthy amount of dollar notes. They were playing a game of poker and because each of them were equally capable of cheating the other out of their winnings, the game never went anywhere and usually had both of them retaining their own amount of money by the end of the game.

All of a sudden a hysteric screaming broke into their game and echoed all around their hideout. The man that had been quietly sitting unnoticed on the sofa, reading a book, shot to his feet.

Both the men playing cards had hardly been shaken when the screaming started but now they seemed startled by the sudden movement of their comrade and one of them dropped his hand of cards in shock. The man that occupied the sofa had been so quiet that they'd forgotten he was there.

The man discarded his novel, leaving it to lay haphazardly on the floor and now he was rushing down the hallway that was directly opposite the table at a rapid pace. The two other men watched him reach the closest door and fling it open, hurtling into the room as quickly as he could.

"Pete," He panted peering into the wooden make-shift coffin that was usually occupied. Now, instead of being occupied by his vampire best friend, it was empty.

Patrick spun around and almost immediately spotted Pete clawing at a boarded up window. His breathing was ragged and broken and his movements were rapid and panicky and sweat was gathering on his bare back and trickling past his tattoos.

"Pete!" He yelled running over to him and grabbing him by the arm. "Pete it’s okay! It’s fine. Nothing’s wrong! You’re safe." He tried helplessly.

All of a sudden Pete stopped clawing at the window and stood motionless for a moment. He turned and made his way back to the coffin that he called a bed and laid down.

His eyes were still open and he seemed to be staring up at the ceiling but his stare was glassy and vacant.

Patrick crouched down beside him on the floor and placed a reassuring hand on his cheek.

"It's okay Pete. I'm here." He whispered.

Pete’s breathing began to calm and soon his eyelids slid shut.

Patrick sat beside him on the cold stone floor for what seemed like hours and then Pete finally spoke.

"He was in my dreams again."

Patrick knew immediately who Pete was talking about.

"He wanted me to go to him. He said that's why he turned me – He wanted me there with him."

Patrick sighed and let his hand drop from Pete's cheek.

The he in mention was William Beckett, the leader of a vampire clan The Dandies and he had been the vampire that had turned Pete only months ago. Occasionally he would appear in Pete's dreams. Sometimes he seemed to be just a figment of Pete's subconscious but sometimes Pete was adamant that he hadn't just been dreaming of him, that he had actually been in his dream instead or as Pete put it 'he'd been inside my head.'

Lately the dreams had become more frequent. At first they'd been every week or so but now they were almost every night and every single one of those nights Pete would wake up screaming.

Last night he'd scratched his fingertips raw before Patrick had found him. Patrick had boarded up all the windows and locked all the doors for a reason. One would logically think that it would be to keep people, vampires, out but it wasn't only that, it was to keep a vampire in, to keep Pete in.

The worst possible thing that Patrick could imagine was if Pete was taken by The Dandies. It was already bad enough that Beckett had seduced him but then he had turned him too and Patrick wouldn't let Beckett take Pete away. He'd rather have his throat torn out but he didn't doubt that it could be arranged.

"I'm not going to let him take you. Don’t worry." Patrick soothed.

"You can't stop him Patrick."

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Patrick emerged from the room a few hours later and took up occupying the sofa again though he didn’t retrieve his novel from the floor.

The two other men had given up playing cards and now they were just flicking the cards across the table at each other.

"Dreams again?" Asked one of the two men, Andy, as he put down his cards on the table.

Patrick rubbed his hand across his temple in what should've been a soothing movement but his hand flew down and smacked against the arm of the sofa.

"Why the fuck did Beckett have to do this to /Pete/?" He cried.

The second man, Joe, dropped his left over cards to the table and went to sit beside Patrick on the sofa.

"I don't know man, but we're gonna kill the son of a bitch, alright?" he tried to console him with the thought of the leader of The Dandies suffering a painful demise.
Patrick nodded.

"Yeah, we're gonna kill him."

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The daylight had broken and Andy had left to gather some supplies for the hunt that they had planned for tonight.

They intended to bait the vampires and slaughter every last one they could, hoping to draw out their leader. They assumed that if they killed enough of his minions then soon enough he'd show his face, to make a deal, to kill them himself, but either way he'd show.

Pete was sitting in a dark corner, his head resting against the hard stone wall. He had his legs drawn up against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

Patrick was watching him shiver in inconsistent intervals. Sweat was beading on his brow and Patrick could see his fangs protruding from his gums. Pete was clamping his lower lip in his teeth so tightly that his sharp incisors had torn through the soft flesh of his lip and blood was trickling down his chin slowly.

Pete began to shake again and Patrick could see that he was resisting the urge to lick the blood off his chin. He had no doubt that just trying to resist was taking every ounce of his being. If he let the warm metallic taste of blood consume him then this place would be a two man massacre in no time at all.

Patrick knew he should have more faith in his best friend then that but his best friend wasn't just Pete anymore, he was a vampire. When the vampire in him took over he was hardly even Pete anymore.

He got up off the sofa and walked towards Pete.

"Get away from me Patrick." He said softly, more blood dribbled down his chin.

Patrick knelt down beside him and used his hand to attempt to wipe the blood off Pete's face.

"Patrick, I said get away." Pete repeated, his voice resigned but still so dangerous that Patrick let his hand fall away to his side.

"I want to help you Peter." Patrick murmured sternly. "I’m going to find a way to make this all go away. You won’t live like this forever, I promise."

Pete’s eyes flicked up to meet Patrick’s own gaze. "I'm going to be a vampire forever Patrick. For fucks sake, this is eternal." He paused. "Unless you kill me."

Patrick looked away and began to mutter. "No, I w--."

"Patrick, promise me. If I go wild, so wild even you can't save me, you have to promise me that you'll kill me." He said as blood continued to drip down his chin and on to his shirt.

He was focused on Patrick but even Patrick could see the blood lust in his best friend"s eyes. It wasn"t dominant at current but he could see it lurking in the depths of Pete's mind.

Patrick didn't say anything but instead he drew a tissue from his coat pocket and began wiping blood from Pete's face. Patrick let a hand rest gently on the side of Pete's face as he tried to carefully swab away the blood without letting it enter his mouth. When he was done he shoved the bloodied up tissue back into his pocket and rested back on the heels of his feet.

"Patrick, you didn’t promise me." Pete whispered.

"I can’t promise you anything. I'm not going to kill my best friend. I'd rather die first."
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