FicWad

Beckett pushed the door to his room open with such ferocity that it slammed into the wall with a resounding crack; the doorknob embedding itself in one of the decorative wooden panels covering the walls. Andrea spun around to face him.

As Beckett had left, she had heard the very clear sound of a key turning in the lock. Frustrated and angry at being held against her will, she tried as hard as she could but had been unable to force the door or even pick the lock with makeshift tools found in the room. Also, to her surprise, despite the room having heavy velvet drapes hanging beautifully at regular intervals, all she found behind them was yet another part of the wall. It became apparent to her that some time ago, probably long ago, Beckett’s windows had been bricked up to avoid the risk of allowing any light in at all. But his sense of aesthetics demanded that curtains should adorn the spaces where windows had once stood. Andrea was trapped in this grandly decorated bedroom awaiting the return of the leader of this band of monsters. And now he had returned and his anger was beyond comprehension. As he laid eyes on the pretty and frightened brunette, something inside him stirred. It was malice. Yes, he could use her. Calming rapidly, Beckett offered a smooth, easy smile.

“Are you comfortable, my dear?” he asked, throwing her off balance by the rapid change in his demeanour.

Perhaps she was simply too scared. Perhaps she had seen or taken enough?

“No!” she snapped with contempt. “You’ve taken my friends and kept me prisoner in here! Exactly how am I supposed to be comfortable with that?”

Beckett examined his fingernails casually as she stood in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he could see her looking past him towards the now open door. It amused him to think that she actually entertained the idea that she could beat him to it.

“Your friends?” He asked casually. “Are you sure about that?”
“Well,” she shrugged, caught off guard by the question. “I know two of them now.”

Beckett knew her reasons for being there; he had read it in her thoughts. An entirely different indication was the sudden heat from her body at the mention of the two hunters that she already knew. She had feelings for one of them, Beckett noticed, possibly both of them. He had to know which if he were to use the information to his advantage.

“But don’t you know that they’ve escaped?” He paused for effect. “Leaving you here, knowing that I have you.”
Andrea took a step back and shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Oh, but you should, I can prove it, if you prefer,” Beckett took a few steps closer. “Why do you think I was so angry on my return?”
“No… he… they wouldn’t leave me here with you. You’re lying.”
“I doubt if Peter would even remember you anyway, it was a long time ago.”
“Pete?” she queried.

Beckett smirked, silently thanking her for the information.

“Ah, I’m sorry, you mean Joe,” Beckett grinned, flashing his sharp fangs. “I wonder if the feeling is mutual? I wonder what he’d be prepared to give up to save your life?”

Andrea’s eyes widened as she stepped back away from him, but he was too fast. Circling his right arm around her waist, he pulled her close enough to feel the rhythm of her heart beating against his silent chest. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, he caressed her cheek; all the while she tried to squirm out of his grip. His hand moved back to her hair, smoothing the soft curls back into position before snatching a handful of it and pulling at the roots.

“Let me explain something to you,” he began menacingly as he softened his grip on her hair before stroking it once more. “You’re mine, and only mine. You will remain here as my companion, under my protection; no one else will dare touch you. But remember this, you’re like a beautiful but fragile porcelain ornament – if I drop you, you will break.”

Forcing her hands up between them to his chest, Andrea pushed with all her strength, but the hold he had on her seemed almost effortless.

“Let go of me, you freak!” she screamed as he held her tighter still, pinning her arms.
“Allow me to change your mind,” Beckett growled angrily at the insult.
“I’ll never ch…”

Andrea gasped as he pulled her head back. Towering over her, Beckett’s mouth widened into a mirthless grin as he fixed her with intense brown eyes that seemed almost to see directly into her mind. Lost in his gaze, all Andrea could do was stare upwards, transfixed. Moving closer, Beckett placed his lips on hers gently at first. Then with his left hand to supporting her head he leaned further into the increasingly passionate kiss. Beckett smiled with satisfaction as she began to return his affections, before, at length, slowly pulling back until finally their lips parted. Beckett now looked down at Andrea, his expression serious, almost stern.

“You will call me William and you will come to me whenever it pleases me to call for you. You will love me with all your heart and do anything for me, anything at all.”
“Anything,” she nodded.
“Even,” he added placing a finger on her lips, “if it involves hurting the object of your true desire.”
“Anything for you… William.”

As Andrea spoke the words, she looked and sounded her normal self, if possibly a little subdued. There was nothing about her that suggested that Beckett had placed her under his control. It was important this time that she would appear perfectly normal when Joe returned to rescue her; an event that Beckett was in no doubt would happen soon. He would be ready; Andrea would bring the hunter to him.

“My dear, I’ll have Spencer find you a room.”

*

“No,” he shook his head as he stood up. “I’m sorry, Andy, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Is there nothing anyone could do?” Andy asked in desperation to his friend Simon; a doctor who had tended to their injuries in the past.
“Honestly? I… I doubt it. Even if you explain how he lost so much blood and they believed you, it’s too late.”
Andy chewed his lip. “There’s got to be something!”
Simon took a deep breath and patted Andy’s shoulder compassionately. “Make him as comfortable as you can. Andy, now… it… it’s not ‘if’ it’s ‘when’.”

Andy dropped into a chair at the desk opposite Patrick’s bed and held his head in his hands.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered to himself.
“I wish there was something I could do, Andy, I really do,” Simon slipped into the chair alongside his friend. “You say Beckett’s vampires did this?”

Andy looked up, he had conveniently forgotten to mention Pete’s involvement, he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Andy merely nodded.

“Well,” Simon began, “I don’t mean to worry you or anything, but are you sure they didn’t turn him?”
Andy shook his head. “No, we caught them in the act of draining him, there was no blood exchange.”
Simon took a deep breath. “Well, at least he won’t wake up a vampire.”
“He just won’t wake up at all?” Andy almost choked on the words.
“I… I’m sorry, Andy. No, there’s no way he’ll survive this.”
“Si, don’t take this the wrong way, but could you leave please? I need to be alone with this.”
“Sure,” Simon nodded, “ I totally understand.”

Andy watched in silence as Simon said his goodbyes and left the warehouse. Walking into the next room, Andy stared at Pete, still sleeping on Andy’s own bed, heavily chained in case he woke with a new found taste for human blood.

“Pete?” Andy queried, receiving no response.

Pete had now been unconscious for about forty minutes; surely he had to wake soon? Andy didn’t have the luxury of waiting. Now standing next to him, Andy stood next to him, shaking him and screaming his name. Finally successful, Andy jumped back in surprise as Pete opened his eyes. Realising, almost at once, that he was out of the cell and that Andy was standing over him, Pete tried hard to sit up but found himself unable to complete that one simple act.

“Andy… what… what’s going on?” Pete stammered as he stared up.
“You,” he began, then stopped, not wanting to say the words. But there was no choice, he had to and he had to do this quickly. “You drained Trick.”
“I…? Is he, I mean, did I?”
“He’s alive,” Andy looked down. “But he won’t be for long.”
“I did that?” Pete’s voice sounded small and helpless; his eyes wide with horror at the thought.
“He’s going to die, Pete. If you… if you don’t help him, he’ll die.”
“Help him!” Pete’s jaw dropped. “You mean turn him?”

Andy nodded silently.

“No!” Pete shook his head vigorously. “Believe me, that’s NOT helping him!”
“Pete! He’s going to die if you don’t!”
“And if I do? Do you have any clue how that feels? Of course you don’t! You think it’s cool that I’m fast and strong, but do you know how it feels? No more sunlight on your face! Worrying that I might kill my friends! Locked up during the day. Limited, but extremes of emotions. A desperate need to drink blood! Do you really think that’s what Trick wants?”
“No! But damn it! He’s going to die! Pete, do you understand that? He ‘s got about an hour maybe two left!”
“I won’t do it!” Pete shook his head. “I won’t let him suffer like I do.”
“No, you’ll just kill him instead,” Andy snapped.

Pete paled. He was more than aware that he was the one to drain Patrick. The reason that, unless he stepped in, he would never wake up.

“Look,” Andy reasoned. “We’re hunters, we know what the options are. If he’d rather have died, then we…” Andy paused. “We know how.”
“I’ve never done it before,” Pete admitted. “What if I get it wrong? What if I kill him?”
“Then we’re in no worse a situation then, are we?” Andy shrugged.
“But…” Pete shrugged and turned his head and stared, unseeing, at the wall. “What if he wakes up evil?

It was a possibility, if course. And one they needed to consider.

“You didn’t,” Andy stated encouragingly.
“No, but, I don’t know why and... why am I chained to the bed?”
“In case you got a taste for human blood,” Andy explained simply, but making no move to free him. “Look, there must have been something different about the way you were turned. Think!”
“Andy, I was there less than three months! I only saw one person turned before I escaped from Beckett,” Pete lowered his eyes at the memory. “Spencer did it.”
“I didn’t think junior coven members were allowed to turn people,” Andy commented.
“Spencer? Junior? No, no, you’ve got that wrong. Just because he keeps his head down and follows Beckett blindly, don’t be fooled. He’s next in line for Brendon’s position.”
“And now, I imagine he’s got it,” Andy replied mysteriously.
“What do you mean? You think he killed Brendon? No way.”
“No, Spencer freed us, but kept telling us to say it was Brendon if we got caught,” Andy explained.
Pete gave a low chuckle. “Gotta watch the quiet ones.”
“Pete…” Andy drew his lips into a thin line. “What about Patrick?”
“I don’t want to do it…”
“Pete! He’s going to die!” Andy shouted in frustration.
“Let me finish!” Pete yelled above Andy’s reply. “I don’t want to do it because... because he’ll hate me for what I’ve done to him, and I won’t blame him. But you’re right; it should be his decision. Take the chains off me and bring them, you’re going to need them for him. We don’t know how he’s going to wake.”

Andy worked fast to free Pete from the restraints, before gathering them up to carry through into Patrick’s room.

“What if he does wake up evil?” Andy asked quietly, as if by keeping his voice low it would somehow reduce the possibility of it happening.
Pete chewed his lower lip before replying in strangled voice. “If that happens, I’ll deal with it.”