i_vanquish_evil | otherways

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otherways

I. Am. So. Fucking. Screwed.

Michael's sitting on the floor, back against the wall directly opposite the door into the room. His arms are draped over his drawn-up knees and he's staring at the floor. He has a dagger in his hand and is tapping the blade against the fingernails of the opposite hand. Idle motion. There are tears on his face, but that can't be seen from the door; not until he looks up, which he won't do until he hears Stephen's voice.

He shakes his head, confused, distraught...

What the fuck did I just do?

How could I even think of doing that?

What the hell was I thinking?

Just fucking kill me now.

"Stephen, I need you..." whispered so small and so soft, through a tear-strained voice, that it's probably audible to almost no one.

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He swans in...and stops the second he sees Michael on the floor. Quiet, so quiet that one would almost not hear, he moves across the carpeting and lowers down on his haunches to look Michael in the eyes. One look...and he blinks very very slowly.

"I see."

He looks up, slowly, tears falling, and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Stephen."

And it's not nearly enough, but he doesn't know what else to say. He's more angry at himself than anything else and he flings the knife across the room, where it lands in the wall, only the handle visible.

"It's a damnably good thing I'm not stupid enough to believe that you've done it out of some sort of twisted revenge, Michael...but I would like to know what it was that did possess you. And I'm willing to listen..."

He shoves his hands through his hair, clenching his fingers in the hair at the back of his head. "I wish I knew." He shakes his head again. "I... I don't know." And he pulls, hard, on his hair, growl-screaming through clenched teeth.

"You don't...know."

He stands, but doesn't move for a moment. Instead, he peers around, not that Michael can probably see. He just stands.

"You're an intelligent man, Michael, one who doesn't make bad decisions, especially when it comes to the split-second sort. You've got scars from when you have...and you live to show you usually don't. So I wonder, Michael...what might have directed you to this. Was it me? Am I, lowly human that I am in this place of wizards and aliens and vampires and all other such nonsense...am I not enough for you anymore? Has the monster hunter finally seen enough of the world that he's outgrown his little friar? If that is the case, Michael, I certainly won't hold it against you. To love is not to hold or constrict certainly."

He looks down. Not moving.

"Unlike Jinette, when I say that I want the very best for you, I do actually mean it. And...just because we were so very near and dear to one another, just because you survived each mission for me and I worked every day in my lab to ensure another day of life for you...just because of what was...that certainly doesn't mean that's all you're meant to have. I think somewhere, I knew that all along, as much as I clung to you."

And away again...and he takes the first few steps of pacing.

"A man of your talents, of your abilities, of your...blessing. To think him tied to friar or librarian is almost ridiculous, positively silly if you look at it in a certain angle. Of course, you're a leading hero, aren't you? You're set for a leading lady...not...an overly bookish sort with ears that stick out if he isn't careful. Anna."

Now he looks directly at Michael.

"Isabel."

Several times during Stephen's 'talk', he almost interrupted, but thought better of it. Thought it better to just wait until he was finished. And he looks away from him - Stephen, Carl - unable to face him now. He shakes his head again. "I'm sorry," whispered so very low.

"I... I wish I knew what happened, but," he looks up, not quite at Stephen, but up, "it's not you. Not at all. I don't know what it is... and that scares the hell out of me." And he seems to curl in on himself, folding his arms over his head. "I didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late. Same thing happened with David."

Then, "I never wanted Anna... never." Though that's mostly irrelevent.

"What you actually want keeps coming through in your weaker moments. Normally, you understand, your natural goodness and general moral uprightness, and no Michael don't argue since I say nothing of the law only of acting in the interest of good, keep you from such things but in those weaker times, you can admit. Live out. Be."

And now he moves.

To change. To change into the clothing which he came in.

"I'm sorry. I feel absolutely dreadful to be repeating the actions which I took during which time I told you about Dresden, but it's not as if I'm going to be impractical about things and steal your belongings or forget my own. So, if you'll be so kind as to ignore me while I get un and redressed, I'd be much oblidged and then you'll be free to gain what you wish without the hindrance of guilt or the issue of someone like me. I had no right to intrude upon your life with nothing more than the memories and desires of a dead man to hold you to me. I won't be troublesome much longer, I assure you."

He looks up, completely dejected and full of fear. He's afraid.

"Wait." He can't get to his feet; he can hardly move. "Stephen, please... " he reaches a hand out, just a little.

"You're not troublesome." He shakes his head. "There's... there's something..." He takes a breath. "There's something... going on... I don't know what it is... please... " he blinks and looks, pleadingly at Stephen, "help me? Help me understand."

And Stephen sighs and lowers himself to his knees and takes Michael in his arms.

"Of course."

Like comforting a child.

He's curled in on himself again, tears streaming down his face - he actually hasn't cried this much since the day Carl died. "Don't leave me. I n-need you."

"I'll be here. If you need me, I won't be going anywhere. I swear it on my leatherbound copy of the Faerie Queen...now just...calm down, Michael, don't get upset."

He shakes his head. "I can't be alone again. Not again."

Irrational? Maybe.

He laughs.

"Handsome chap like you? Alone? Preposterous."

He's not laughing and he doesn't think that was funny.

"No. You don't understand. I... I couldn't..." He gets to his feet, clumsily, and stumbles toward the bed. He makes it, but falls heavily. "No. I can't do that again." His hands clench and release in irregular patterns in front of him, fingers twitching when his hands aren't fisted. "I. Just. Can't."

And Stephen's eyes turn a bit hard.

"Then what do you want, Michael? Am I true love or security blanket?"

He looks at Stephen, very very confused. "What?"

Did we mention the very confused part?

Love him - want him - need him - highly confused by him just now.

Also - very afraid that he's going to leave me or back off - just offer friendship.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

And he leans down and looks right into Michael's eyes, inches from his face.

"So you love me...or is the idea of loneliness just too frightening to face even for as long as it would take to replace me? True love or security blanket? Which one am I?"

He looks up, back into Stephen's eyes.

"Love you." His lips tremble a little. "Just you." And he can't make his voice work in sentences longer than that.

And he rolls his eyes and exhales.

"Oh, GOD you had me scared, man. Get on the bed, get off the floor, and hold me for that ridiculous display before I pout at you so shamelessly that your ancestors buy their wives flowers."

He reaches up and tugs Stephen down to the floor with him. "Scared."

He blinks down at Michael.

"Of what?"

He swallows hard. "Whatever is messing with me. Making me do things."

He sighs.

"Well, we can't deal with it if you're suffering from lower back problems due to sitting on the hard floor too long, so get up and into the bed before I either lift you or start yelling."

The look he gives Michael is scary.

"You really don't want to see me yelling again."

He takes a deep breath and slowly, pushes himself up to the edge of the bed - which is where he'd intended to be earlier.

"I'm really sorry." And he doesn't know why he keeps saying that.

And he sighs.

"If it's your body betraying you, or your body's desires, you'll find no anger with me against you. I know what temptation is and I know what the heat of the moment is and I'm no one to throw stones. But when you looked at me like that, I thought...my first thought was that you'd betrayed me in mind, in heart...because that's just about the only place you can betray me. That's the only thing that will get me upset: if you kissed someone or fucked someone because you just loved them so much you couldn't even tell me beforehand. You were so upset, I assumed that is what happened...and thus my reaction."

He shakes his head, continuously, as he speaks. "I couldn't... not to you... love you too much."

And he stops shaking his head. "And I don't just mean Carl..." He's looking right at Stephen.

And he blinks.

And seems happy enough to bounce for a moment before he puts the information into his mental catalogue and files it for the moment. Other concerns.

"Good to hear."

And he's hoping the love and affection he feels for Michael, for Gabriel, is in there too.

"Now, about that force."

His bottom lip trembles just a hair. "Could you... um..." he blinks "...could you kiss me?" And he exhales, slowly.

And he nods and leans forward, tosses the librarian and the friar and everything else that would be thinking away to kiss him, kiss him, and apologize for the mistake, apologize for the pain and the hurt and for anything horrible Michael felt because Michael is his and if he can't save him from the things in the dark then he should at least be able to save him from heartache and not cause more.

He nearly melts into the kiss, shaking hands moving to curve around Stephen's head, to hold him there for a moment. "Thank you," he says softly as the kiss ends.

"And, what did you ask me about?"

"What's causing these little lapses of sanity?"

More head shaking. "I don't know."

There's a pause.

"But, it might be happening to David too."

"What links you and David?"

He blinks a lot, thinking. And the first thing that spits out of his mouth - almost before he actually thinks about it...

"Nick."

And he smirks knowingly.

"...who has known emotion-effecting abilities, no? Now, he seems your friend and I don't think that he'd do such things on purpose against you, but...is there any chance that what he's doing might be subconcious?"

He frowns, glaring at Stephen.

"How do you mean?"

"Accidental. That somehow, he's affecting you."

Another head shake.

"I don't think so... wait..." and he stops, something occurring to him.

"Yes?"

He closes his eyes and sighs as he falls back on the bed, hand slapping over his eyes.

"Vampire bites."

Pause.

"Fuck."

He pats Michael.

He peers at him from beneath his hand.

"Helpful. Thanks."

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"What do you think it is?"

"Why am I going to add to such genius?"

He smirks.

"Talk to the vampire, Michael. Best, really."

"Yeah."

Eyes closed again, he presses his shoulders down, trying to stretch them.

"What can I do for you now?" he asks softly.

"Hold me and let me sleep and stop being upset and just trust that I love you."

He takes a deep breath and sits up to untie his boots. "I do trust that you love me. I was never afraid of that." He tugs his boots off and drops them to the floor. "I... nevermind. Over it." He pulls his shirt over his head.

"Good. To bed. If you'd be so kind."

And he YANKS him into the bed and nibbles on his side.

"Ooh. Not complaining about this."

He keeps his arm out of the way of Stephen's nibbling; his free hand carding through his hair a moment before sliding down to figure a way to remove Stephen's shirt.

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