Categories > Original > Fantasy > Bring Me To Life
“FUCK!”
Zephiir’s scream of agony fell upon deaf ears, as he materialized into the “lair”, as the Templar had so kindly referred to it. He fell back onto the sofa, still oozing blood and smoke, as the Holy Water from the knife began to eat away at his flesh.
Jensen, paler than usual and sweating bullets, barely nodded a hello as he rushed towards the bathroom. Kiefer didn’t even glance up from where he sat, transcribing the notes from their most recent meeting with the Master. Ewan, who had materialized just after Zephiir, merely raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“Why yes, I do, but I don’t go for men—and if I did, they’d definitely be a lot better looking.”
Fortunately for Zephiir, Jared had risen from his death-sleep earlier than usual, after catching the scent of burned flesh.
“Ewan, you crazed, disease infested nymphomaniac, please do all of us a favor and shut the hell up. And while you’re at it, I need a knife. Junior here is hurt, and needs to make a withdrawal from the bank of Nosferatu.”
“I am NOT your disgusting little lap dog, and I do not play fetch. Get it yourself, I’m exhausted from alleviating the urges of about fifty sexually frustrated overachievers,” Ewan retorted.
The incubus stripped off his t-shirt, and made his way into the room designated as his, slamming the door as he did so to punctuate his statement.
“Prima Donna rock star wannabe, thinks he’s Satan’s gift to the human race, all because he’s a sex demon. I’ve probably had more women in one week than he has in his entire life, and I’ve done ten times as well in pleasuring each of them,” Jared muttered.
“Oh, no, don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here, slowly having my flesh eaten away where I was wounded by a blade dipped in HOLY WATER,” Zephiir snapped.
“Oh to hell with it.”
Jared bit down on the pulse point of his wrist, and quickly shoved it to Zephiir’s mouth.
“Drink it.”
Zephiir shook his head, turning away from the wrist; it did no good of course, as it followed him.
“Drink it, Phiir.”
“No.”
“You’re going to die if you don’t, and it’s not going to be an easy death! I have neither the time nor the patience to train another one of Lucifer’s pandering sycophants to do your job, now either you’re going to drink it on your own or I’m going to force it down you!” Jared snapped.
Zephiir glared, but finally took the outstretched wrist and bit into it himself, taking a few pulls of Jared’s blood. The latter moaned deep in his throat, shuddering involuntarily from the waves of pleasure caused by the action.
It seemed like an eternity before Zephiir finally dropped the wrist, falling back against the cushion of the sofa; he winced, writhing in pain as the flesh regenerated and knitted back together. When he finally looked up again, still panting from exertion, he glared at Jared; or rather, the direction Jared had taken off in as soon as Zephiir had dropped his wrist.
“You wanna know why I hate taking blood from you? Honestly? It’s because you get a hard-on right in front of my face, and I know I’m the cause of it!”
“Pfft, some of us don’t have to take his blood to have that effect on him,” Ewan snorted as he walked back into the living room area, sporting damp locks and a white towel slung low on his hips.
Jared emerged from the bathroom seconds later, zipping his pants and glaring daggers at Ewan, who merely shot him a devilish grin.
“I have never gotten a hard-on from the likes of you, nor will I ever, you gelatinous tapeworm. And YOU,” Jared rounded on Zephiir.
“How did you manage to get stuck with a blessed blade?!”
“I pissed off the wrong Templar,” Zephiir replied, sighing.
Kiefer looked up from his laptop and quirked an eyebrow in amusement.
“A Templar did that?”
“Yeah, in an alleyway coming off Otto and onto Balmoral.”
“Oh, dear Lucifer…please tell me you didn’t attack the Watcher.”
“Of course I did. I’m the Destroyer, it’s my JOB Jared and you’re the one who assigned it to me in case you don’t remember. Your exact words to me were: If you find a Templar, get rid of them. So I did, I scared the ever loving Holy Ghost out of the bitch.”
“…And just how did you manage that, pray tell?” Ewan asked.
“I blasted her into the back wall with a fireball…and it marked her.”
Jared turned, and made his way towards the kitchen; as soon as he found a piece of wall space that wasn’t covered in notes or charts, he began to bang his head against it.
“Jared, what—”
“You idiot. You’ve bound your life force to the Watcher.”
“…Fuck.”
“Fuck is right, she’s gonna know everything that you know. On the plus side, that works both ways, which means…” Jared trailed off, and stepped back from the wall.
“Which means you might actually have done something right, for a change,” Ewan finished.
“Go fuck yourself,” Zephiir snapped.
“Ah, no can do, I’m all fucked out for this night, rookie. And I get to do it all over again tomorrow. Have I mentioned that I LOVE my job?”
“Only about a million times, you filthy man whore. Going back to the subject at hand, the bad news is you’re gonna have to protect her.” Jared interjected.
“Protect her? Are you forgetting that she’s the one who nearly KILLED me a few minutes ago?! I highly doubt the wench is in need of protecting! If anything I’m going to dismember her myself!” Zephiir exclaimed.
“You’re going to have to protect her one because she’s human and therefore much more fragile than you or I, and two because your life depends on the Watcher not losing hers,” Jared retorted.
“Say, what does this Watcher of yours look like? And do you think she can be tempted?”
“I don’t think she’d go for you, Ewan—”
“Nonsense, of COURSE she’d go for me. I mean, this is me we’re talking about, I’m irresistible to women, especially when they’re sexually frustrated. Can you imagine the kind of bonus I’d get from the Master if I actually planted my seed in a Templar?!”
“You’re assuming she’s actually sexually frustrated,” Kiefer stated.
“Any woman who goes around dipping her blades in Holy Water has too much free time on her hands, which is one of the most obvious signs of sexual frustration.”
“Forget it, Ewan, I’ve just gotten a lock on your next target.”
“Ah fuck. Alright, who’s the lucky lady this time?”
“Regina Waverly—hates her full name, goes by Gina. Brown hair, brown eyes, side-swept bangs.”
“Oh, Lucifer, not another one of those emo kid—” Ewan was cut off, as Kiefer held up a picture of said brunette.
She had stricken a seductive, yet innocent pose in the photo, her big doe eyes staring naively at the camera, but that hadn’t been what caught Ewan’s attention; it had been the plunging neckline on the signature little black dress that she was wearing in said photo, and the way she toyed with the long necklace she wore with one hand, drawing attention to her cleavage.
“Hello Regina! Come to Papa—or rather, make Papa come to you!”
“Ugh, all this is enough to make me puke…” Zephiir stated, rolling his eyes for emphasis.
He stood up, and made an attempt to walk down the hall to his own bedroom; unfortunately the attempt ended with him on the floor and in the fetal position.
“Zephiir, are you—” Kiefer started, but was cut off when the latter sat up.
“The Watcher has been heavily medicated, judging by the effect it’s having on me, I’d say morphine; apparently she has a very low threshold for pain, and was going into shock from the damage sustained to her when I blasted her into the wall.”
Zephiir’s scream of agony fell upon deaf ears, as he materialized into the “lair”, as the Templar had so kindly referred to it. He fell back onto the sofa, still oozing blood and smoke, as the Holy Water from the knife began to eat away at his flesh.
Jensen, paler than usual and sweating bullets, barely nodded a hello as he rushed towards the bathroom. Kiefer didn’t even glance up from where he sat, transcribing the notes from their most recent meeting with the Master. Ewan, who had materialized just after Zephiir, merely raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“Why yes, I do, but I don’t go for men—and if I did, they’d definitely be a lot better looking.”
Fortunately for Zephiir, Jared had risen from his death-sleep earlier than usual, after catching the scent of burned flesh.
“Ewan, you crazed, disease infested nymphomaniac, please do all of us a favor and shut the hell up. And while you’re at it, I need a knife. Junior here is hurt, and needs to make a withdrawal from the bank of Nosferatu.”
“I am NOT your disgusting little lap dog, and I do not play fetch. Get it yourself, I’m exhausted from alleviating the urges of about fifty sexually frustrated overachievers,” Ewan retorted.
The incubus stripped off his t-shirt, and made his way into the room designated as his, slamming the door as he did so to punctuate his statement.
“Prima Donna rock star wannabe, thinks he’s Satan’s gift to the human race, all because he’s a sex demon. I’ve probably had more women in one week than he has in his entire life, and I’ve done ten times as well in pleasuring each of them,” Jared muttered.
“Oh, no, don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here, slowly having my flesh eaten away where I was wounded by a blade dipped in HOLY WATER,” Zephiir snapped.
“Oh to hell with it.”
Jared bit down on the pulse point of his wrist, and quickly shoved it to Zephiir’s mouth.
“Drink it.”
Zephiir shook his head, turning away from the wrist; it did no good of course, as it followed him.
“Drink it, Phiir.”
“No.”
“You’re going to die if you don’t, and it’s not going to be an easy death! I have neither the time nor the patience to train another one of Lucifer’s pandering sycophants to do your job, now either you’re going to drink it on your own or I’m going to force it down you!” Jared snapped.
Zephiir glared, but finally took the outstretched wrist and bit into it himself, taking a few pulls of Jared’s blood. The latter moaned deep in his throat, shuddering involuntarily from the waves of pleasure caused by the action.
It seemed like an eternity before Zephiir finally dropped the wrist, falling back against the cushion of the sofa; he winced, writhing in pain as the flesh regenerated and knitted back together. When he finally looked up again, still panting from exertion, he glared at Jared; or rather, the direction Jared had taken off in as soon as Zephiir had dropped his wrist.
“You wanna know why I hate taking blood from you? Honestly? It’s because you get a hard-on right in front of my face, and I know I’m the cause of it!”
“Pfft, some of us don’t have to take his blood to have that effect on him,” Ewan snorted as he walked back into the living room area, sporting damp locks and a white towel slung low on his hips.
Jared emerged from the bathroom seconds later, zipping his pants and glaring daggers at Ewan, who merely shot him a devilish grin.
“I have never gotten a hard-on from the likes of you, nor will I ever, you gelatinous tapeworm. And YOU,” Jared rounded on Zephiir.
“How did you manage to get stuck with a blessed blade?!”
“I pissed off the wrong Templar,” Zephiir replied, sighing.
Kiefer looked up from his laptop and quirked an eyebrow in amusement.
“A Templar did that?”
“Yeah, in an alleyway coming off Otto and onto Balmoral.”
“Oh, dear Lucifer…please tell me you didn’t attack the Watcher.”
“Of course I did. I’m the Destroyer, it’s my JOB Jared and you’re the one who assigned it to me in case you don’t remember. Your exact words to me were: If you find a Templar, get rid of them. So I did, I scared the ever loving Holy Ghost out of the bitch.”
“…And just how did you manage that, pray tell?” Ewan asked.
“I blasted her into the back wall with a fireball…and it marked her.”
Jared turned, and made his way towards the kitchen; as soon as he found a piece of wall space that wasn’t covered in notes or charts, he began to bang his head against it.
“Jared, what—”
“You idiot. You’ve bound your life force to the Watcher.”
“…Fuck.”
“Fuck is right, she’s gonna know everything that you know. On the plus side, that works both ways, which means…” Jared trailed off, and stepped back from the wall.
“Which means you might actually have done something right, for a change,” Ewan finished.
“Go fuck yourself,” Zephiir snapped.
“Ah, no can do, I’m all fucked out for this night, rookie. And I get to do it all over again tomorrow. Have I mentioned that I LOVE my job?”
“Only about a million times, you filthy man whore. Going back to the subject at hand, the bad news is you’re gonna have to protect her.” Jared interjected.
“Protect her? Are you forgetting that she’s the one who nearly KILLED me a few minutes ago?! I highly doubt the wench is in need of protecting! If anything I’m going to dismember her myself!” Zephiir exclaimed.
“You’re going to have to protect her one because she’s human and therefore much more fragile than you or I, and two because your life depends on the Watcher not losing hers,” Jared retorted.
“Say, what does this Watcher of yours look like? And do you think she can be tempted?”
“I don’t think she’d go for you, Ewan—”
“Nonsense, of COURSE she’d go for me. I mean, this is me we’re talking about, I’m irresistible to women, especially when they’re sexually frustrated. Can you imagine the kind of bonus I’d get from the Master if I actually planted my seed in a Templar?!”
“You’re assuming she’s actually sexually frustrated,” Kiefer stated.
“Any woman who goes around dipping her blades in Holy Water has too much free time on her hands, which is one of the most obvious signs of sexual frustration.”
“Forget it, Ewan, I’ve just gotten a lock on your next target.”
“Ah fuck. Alright, who’s the lucky lady this time?”
“Regina Waverly—hates her full name, goes by Gina. Brown hair, brown eyes, side-swept bangs.”
“Oh, Lucifer, not another one of those emo kid—” Ewan was cut off, as Kiefer held up a picture of said brunette.
She had stricken a seductive, yet innocent pose in the photo, her big doe eyes staring naively at the camera, but that hadn’t been what caught Ewan’s attention; it had been the plunging neckline on the signature little black dress that she was wearing in said photo, and the way she toyed with the long necklace she wore with one hand, drawing attention to her cleavage.
“Hello Regina! Come to Papa—or rather, make Papa come to you!”
“Ugh, all this is enough to make me puke…” Zephiir stated, rolling his eyes for emphasis.
He stood up, and made an attempt to walk down the hall to his own bedroom; unfortunately the attempt ended with him on the floor and in the fetal position.
“Zephiir, are you—” Kiefer started, but was cut off when the latter sat up.
“The Watcher has been heavily medicated, judging by the effect it’s having on me, I’d say morphine; apparently she has a very low threshold for pain, and was going into shock from the damage sustained to her when I blasted her into the wall.”
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