Welcome to Gaia! ::

Fifteen
Fragile

“I wanted you to go with her.” Tom muttered to Kat as they clambered into their own car. “So I wouldn’t have to worry about you in what I hope is the last fight.” Kat sighed with no little frustration.
“You and Willow are so alike.” she grumbled, “Be polite to the nuisance so she’ll get out of our way.”
“All I’m trying to do is protect you.” Tom defended.
“Protect me?” Kat repeated, almost laughing.
“What’s so funny?” asked Tom.
“The entire reason I’m here-- all the dumb s**t I’ve been pulling-- I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Somehow, when Tom said it, it sounded alot more confused. “Why would you do that?” At first, Kat turned toward Tom with an expression similar to his, but on seeing his face, Kat seemed to think it was the funniest thing she had ever encountered. She folded herself over in the seat as she laughed, and she laughed until it sounded like a sob. Tom, confusion growing, bent himself slightly to see if he could tell which it was from her expression.
“Are you alright?” he asked dubiously.
“...fine...” she snickered, wiping at her eyes and straightening, “Fine.. I’m just really relieved it’s not obvious.”
“What’s not obvious?” Tom asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re going to explain this.” Tom warned. The car rocked slightly as two large bodies moved into it.
“Explain what?” Willow asked.
“Nothing.” Kat answered quickly. Willow shrugged, and as she started the car, Tom muttered something under the growl of the transmission.
“You’re not getting away that easily, you know that, don’t you?”
“Okay, Tom, you win.” Kat grumbled, pushing stray hairs out of her face. “I’ll explain after this next battle.”

The car wound it’s way up the back roads, quietly as it might be maneuvered. Willow’s eyes were dark with concentration, and the car had fallen silent. Tom’s two swords had been slipped into his belt, and he appeared so very much like a samurai with that in his silhouette. His eyes were also dark, though not in color, and he too was silent. The car stopped, and the lights on the dashboard plunged the whole world into darkness.

“We’ll have to walk the rest of the way.” Willow stated quietly, with little emotion. The four slayers stepped out of the SUV and slipped in amongst the twisted trees. The watery moonlight lit their goal, standing at the edge of ornately carved rock which was the graveyard. The barn seemed so small, so distant, even though it was the closest any of them had come to it. All they could really make out was the flicker of a candle from somewhere within. Hearts stopped as they realized, not only how far they had come, but how unlikely it was they would come closer.
“We can’t fight in close quarters like we did the first time.” Willow whispered. “We have to sneak up from all around, and get as close as we can. If one of us is discovered, I’d like you to do something very simple, which I probably don’t need to instruct you on.” There was a brief pause.
“What?” Kat whispered.
“Scream.” her sister instructed. The group took half a step closer to each other, and breathed slowly. Then, in a faint but calm whisper, Travis began to speak.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear not the devil...”
“Lo there do I see my father...” Kat chimed under him, panic edging her voice like the age stains on the edges of book pages. Tom said nothing, but reverently his dark lashes eclipsed the pale blue of his eyes.
“Hey, you guys up there?” Willow cast her eyes to the heavens, “I’d like a favor.”
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done...”
“In Valhalla, where the dead can live forever.”
“And I really rather not die today.” Willow finished. Tom’s eyes, which had closed blue, opened gray.
“Amen.” he finished. There was a crash within the barn, and as the group slipped into the shadows, dark, robed figures filed out from the wooden structure. Kat skirted left, towards the tombstones. The only one who moved further from the actual enemy was Tom, whom dove through the tombstones with his enemies’ shadows.

An almost impatient huff broke from Willow’s mouth as she reached into her trenchcoat. Robed figures strode towards her, and she sped up, but never ran. As they met, Willow drew a pair of stakes from within her coat. She span, braid flying, and the coat cutting through the dust that filled the air as she mowed down through her enemies like a buzzsaw. She stopped after a mere three rotations, tossed her head and stepped over the dust and bones and empty robes that littered the ground beneath her feet.

A black-taloned hand dove into the pocket of her coat and withdrew another pencil. There wasn’t enough time to see if she hit anything with her last volley, for more were charging. Kat spun to the closest target and fired. Her shoulder blades twitched and she spun, drawing another pencil.
“I can see your aim hasn’t improved.” the vampire mentioned dully. Kat’s weapon sagged and her eyes grew large.
“Oh, my gods...” Kat gasped, “...Jake...”
“Yes, Jake.” the ex-hunter snarled. “Observant as ever, aren’t you?”

Though the situation was one he could not have prepared for or even foreseen, Tom felt strangely at ease as he danced through the graveyard, a sword in each each hand. He knew the style well, and drew some bizarre comfort from the weight of the katana sliding along it’s path opposite the boken. Robed figures danced away from the steel tip, circling the small boy.
“Move your asses.” came a laughing voice from beyond the robed figures. “I’ve got something to settle with this pansy piece of s**t.” Tom almost froze at the voice, and the vampires parted into tidy rows to either side of the figure before him. Damian strode out to meet Tom.
“You thought that when I said I could kill you, I was just bragging, weren’t you? That I was lying?” Tom’s eyes kept on the other boy as he spoke, but he shook his head.
“No, I’m sure you believe that you could kill me.” Here, Tom smirked. “But I’m also sure that you’re wrong.”
“Shut your ugly face.” Damian snarled, leaping for the hunter. Tom spun out of the way, his trenchcoat fluttering behind him. He raised his right arm, the one attached to the boken, and pointed it at Damian. The vampire dodged, and Tom raised his left arm. The moonlight gleamed for a moment off the steel of the katana, and it’s surface seemed to expand in an arch towards Damian’s throat. Shock flashed momentarily across the fanged and foaming lips of the vampire, and the steel entered his neck. Haltingly, his vision slipped across the unblinking grey eyes before him, and the ribbons of blood trailing after the silver object which had passed through his neck. Skin and hair disappeared into the grinning, fanged skull, rolling away separate from the collapsing body.
Damian, laughing, snide and crude had disappeared, leaving behind only a twisted skeleton. Tom turned from it, blood filling the air around him as much as his hair and clothing. The robed figures stepped back, then lunged onto the two dancing swords, falling like dead birds.

Jake stood before Kat, angry and plain as death. Blood was still dripping from his neck wound, and he seemed strangely pale. His eyes were full of more pain and anger than Kat had previously believed possible, and his mouth seemed unable to close properly over the new fangs.
“You’re-”
“Save your breath.” Jake snapped irritably. “I know what happened to me, and I know why. We were too busy saving you, stupid and cute, and therefore, more worthy to live than I am. You all knew each other so well, no one was attached to me. I was expendable!”
“Oh, Jake, I’m-”
“Shut up!” he snarled. “I’m talking now.”
“I’m so sorry about what happened to you...”
“Oh, you’re sorry. You’re sorry. I’m dead, Kat!” Jake snarled, “Do you really think ‘I’m sorry’ means anything?! ”
“You’re... so different... not even Ja-”
“Then who the ******** am I?” he snarled, grabbing the front of her coat. “Is that it now? Now that I’m what you’ve decided needs to die, I’m nothing like what I was? Am I no longer myself?” He threw he violently to the cold dead ground. Grabbing her bun, Jake lifted her from the ground and examined her dirty face.
“I’m sor-”
“Stop saying that!” he screamed, slamming her face into the nearest gravestone. “You can’t be sorry, you don’t even understand!” he kicked the small slayer, and she twitched.
“...Jake...”
“All your pathetic, crazy attempts to save Tom, and you couldn’t even offer to help me up.” he snarled. “But, hey, who cares, I’m not Tom. I’m not Tom, so you let me die!”
“That’s not...” she groaned, arms gripping around the stone.
“Shut your stupid face.” Jake growled, holding her head against the tombstone. “You’ll never, never understand the pain of being embraced, the pain the occurred when you abandoned me!”
“You asked-” Jake kicked her and she stopped talking. Kat shuddered, pulling herself up with her elbows.
“I’m sorry...” she moaned one last time.
“You’re sorry?!” Jake snapped. “You keep saying you’re sorry! But I don’t think you are. You can’t understand the suffering my lack of life was after you left me.”
“Not for leaving you...” Kat moaned, pushing herself away from the gravestone.
“For killing you.” For a moment, it looked like the girl had punched him in the chest. Then he noticed the little pink eraser. She struck it again with the heel of her hand, driving it further in. His flesh was firm, firm as raw meat. He groaned with pain as the pencil moved another inch towards his heart. Kat’s eyes were glassy and full of pain as she took both her hands away.
“May this end your torment.” she whispered, then hit the pencil with both hands. Jake shrieked and fell to the ground, truly dead this time. Blood pooled around the edge of the pencil, and Jake lay on the ground, a corpse just like any other. His body was only vaguely warm, but that made sense. It was October, and he died almost an hour ago.

Vampires milled around Travis.
“We will not hesitate to kill you because you are one of us.” a hooded figure warned.
“Is that so?” Travis asked with a grin. “Then why am I over here and you are over there?” A vampire flew forward and grasped Travis’ neck. He sputtered slightly, then firmed his neck to a point where the pressure on it was not enough to choke him.
“You fool!” the vampire snarled. “With the power the blot controls, why have you chosen anarchy?”
“Anarchy is the logical step after incompetent leaders.” Travis spat, his hands closing on the wrists near his throat. The vampire screamed as the bones in his wrists splintered like wood, and Travis kicked him in the face as he fell.
“Now...” Travis growled, “I’m pissed off!”

Tom gave and took ground in a dance-like manner, dodging gravestones as he did before. He sprang over one without seeming to notice it’s presence, swords swinging at his sides like extended arms. Beyond the gravestone, an embalmed-looking creature snarled and ran for the hunter before him.
“I’ve got a question.” Tom announced suddenly. The vampire stopped. Tom drew his second sword in his opposite hand and crossed the two in front of him.
“Does this hurt?” The vampire recoiled at the makeshift cross, and then fell to bones and tendons as the boken protruded from his back.

Willow ran across the graveyard as fast as she could. If she was able to make it to the barn, just to get inside- Willow’s body turned to keep from falling as she dropped to one knee. Her eyes dropped back to where a cold, pallid, spidery hand was pulling it’s self from the ground, using her ankle as a grip to lever it’s body from the ground. Another hand dove from the dirt and gripped the fabric of her trenchcoat. More and more hands leapt up, far more than the grave could have contained originally. That was a trap. Willow twisted sinuously, stabbing at the nightmarish hands with the two stakes. As she leapt away, the hands kept prying out of the dirt,some up as far as the elbows, ready to fight her, swarming, clambering over each other like rats. With a panicked expression, Willow’s foot dove dove forward over the grave and pulled the stone down onto the twisting hands.
“Heads up!” Travis warned with a scream, springing nearer to Willow. Native stone crumbled beneath his feet, and he dropped onto all fours.
“Cover me.” Travis warned Willow, who nodded and raised her stakes.
Travis snarled, and his shoulders hunched lower to the ground. Gray eyes closed, and opened orange, lupine. Brown-grey fur melted smoothly over his body, the red hairs remaining as only an undercoat. They actually poured over the neck of the plaid shirt his was wearing, which soon disappeared entirely, seeming to recess into his body. Travis raised his head and snarled again, his fangs multiplying in a rapidly elongating snout. Like a slightly mistreated but very thick plume, a tail uncoiled it’s self from the place where jeans used to be. Though he was indeed unusually large for the creature he had become, his size had not changed in the least. Willow’s eyes flew over what had become of her old friend.
“...you said ‘bear.’ That’s a wolf. I know a wolf when I see one, and you just turned into a wolf.” Willow flustered a moment. Travis snarled in her general direction. A wolf larger than a Saint Bernard was hardly something one mocked.
“Oh, no time for that now.” she chided, pointing towards the enemy. “Sic ‘em!” Travis snarled as he dashed into the fray.

Kat ran backwards as she loaded. She’d missed again. Great.
“These is the hunters that killed so many of our people?” the vampire laughed beneath her robe. “This is all which that useless Damian ran away from?” Kat tightened her grip on the crossbow and raised it before her.
“Put that away, you impotent creature.” spat the robed figure. The vampire struck Kat with such force that she spun back, pencils flying from her coat and falling uselessly on the ground. She managed to keep a firm grip on her crossbow, however, and as her adversary drew closer, she widely felt in the fallen leaves for a bolt. Suddenly her eyes flashed up at the vampire, terror turned to a look of scheming and she reached behind her head. Suddenly like copper flame her hair fell all around her back and hips, and she lay a paintbrush on the crossbow and fired. The vampire dusted neatly, and the paintbrush landed among the leaves as it it never encountered an obstacle on it’s path.
“Don’t ******** with artists.” she snapped.

With a tremendous groan, a man in a robe grasped the wolf around the middle. The wolf thrashed madly, jaws clashing in the moonlight, snarling, spitting in it’s fury. Heaving, the vampire raised the wolf above his head, then paused with a shudder, as simultaneously, his situation changed and destroyed him. In his hands, the wolf writhed, fur melting away and bulk returning. For while it was an immense wolf, a large man is still harder to hold above your head. Especially when one is distracted by things such as a wooden shaft protruding from one’s chest. Willow withdrew the stake and the vampire, and what he carried, fell. Travis groaned in pain, and Willow offered him a hand to pull himself up with.
“That’s gonna hurt in the morning.” Willow muttered.
“******** the morning;” Travis grunted animalisticly, fur melting from his shoulders. “That’s gonna hurt now.”

Tom pushed back on the chest of the creature imploding with the flat of the katana, and the boken was again free. Then came another for each blade, and a third, which he kicked. But there were two more behind him, and others behind them. Creatures crushed around him, pressing in on all parts of his writhing body. He tried to swing his swords, but found the weight of the people clinging to it was too much for him to pull. Careful, forceful hands loosened at his fingers, as more gripped at his legs, spread apart his body as if he were a frog to be dissected. He snarled wordlessly and thrashed his head around, attempting to hit someone with it.
“Let go!” he shouted pointlessly.
“You’ve pissed too many people off tonight, you dirty murderer.” Omega grinned, stepping out of the throng.
“You can’t escape us all.” Tom’s muscles loosened slightly, and he stopped thrashing as he faced the young woman before him. The hatred painted across her face made her almost unrecognizable as the girl who was supposed to graduate with him.
“I almost wish you could survive what I’m going to do it you, so that you’d have learned how weak and useless you are...” she grinned, drawing closer to his face. “But not really.”
“That’s something I can’t agree with you on.” Tom muttered as he hung limply from his suspended elbows. “I wish that you’ll die because you’re weak and useless.” The end he shouted, ripping his arms from those who held them. As he shouted, Tom slashed across Omega’s face and torso, flesh and cloth ripping away beneath the blade. The face once found so comely and flawless was torn from her left eyebrow to the right corner of her mouth. Blood festooned after the blade like scarlet ribbons, splattering Tom’s face and upper body. Omega screeched and held her hands to her face, and those around Tom jumped and held onto him again. A hand grabbed his ponytail to keep is head steady, but he thrashed wildly until this was no longer an option. Black threads covered his face, shoulders, and the vision of all around him, hanging and thrashing along with the rest of his form. One hand, then the other was struck, and the swords came away, tossed aside, useless on the ground.

Tom did not scream. It was only through the chance of spinning, trying to find who next to attack that she saw him, pinned amongst the vampires. She tossed aside the crossbow and ran. It was useless without ammo, and she didn’t have time to find any. Running blindly through the graveyard, without enough breath in her lungs to scream. She wouldn’t get there in time. In time to do what? He was all but dead.
A cold hand stroked the pale, exposed neck of the young hunter, pushing the leather of his trenchcoat and the loose dark hair aside. The other hand gripped his head, pulling it away from the exposed neck.
“This is for Zach.” Omega hissed, dropping her broken face to Tom’s neck. Blood began to pour, not only from the wound beneath Omega’s mouth, but the cut across her face. Around her, vampires swarmed, fought like starving dogs for a piece of the hunter’s throat. Tom gasped, eyes wide and glassy, as mouths and fangs danced across his skin, and clashed against each other, like snakes. Multiple tongues lapped around his throat and shoulders. He didn’t need to be held still any longer, the saliva warmly numbing the rips across his skin. He couldn’t move, in the strictest sense.

Tears were running down Kat’s face. She was too slow. There was nothing she could do now. She was close now, frozen, but only close enough to look into Tom’s face. There was no terror there. If there was anything, it was a numb shock, something beyond fear.
The pain in Jake’s face as he had attacked her flashed before Kat’s eyes. If relief from that pain was the only thing that she could offer to Tom, then she could not deny him it. Her hand closed on the cold, metal object in her pocket. The object that had nearly bruised her leg, banging against it as she fought. Numbly, eyes transfixed on Tom, Kat took the gun in both hands and lifted it before her. Wind spread the henna-red plume out behind her, and tears ran in an unbroken stream from her eyes to her mouth.
“I love-” The chamber sounded and cut her off. The group around him twitched and started to break apart, but she wasn’t that good a shot. She didn’t know where she hit. There was no way to know if she hit him or a vampire. Kat released the trigger, and the next bullet slid into place. She fired again. And again. The last three shots as she emptied the gun into the young man before her where scattered and erratic, even more so than before. Though she remembered to shoot low, allowing for the kick, she wasn’t sure she had hit him until the last one, where a single red veil bloomed from Tom’s chest as a blood-tinted scarf slides from a magician’s sleeve. With the vampires around him scattered, his body fell back, trenchcoat flying around him.

Tom landed among the tombstones, blood dancing from his multiple wounds. His eyes were open wide with the shock of being killed, the same pale blue as when he laughed. The gleaming black of his hair and coat flowed around him like a secondary pool of blood superimposed over the first, black across the scarlet. The stark red traced it’s way across his pale face and dark clothing, as if it were not splattered across a person, but a black and white photograph.
The hot metal of the gun slipped from Kat’s hands. Quivering with horror, she dropped onto her knees, but did not seem to notice.

Tom was dead.