Title: "Cruciamentum" Author: EA Karras and Magnes Rating: A very strong R Codes: H/C, slaying, death, sex, pain, angst, fighting, possible nudity, cannibalism, poisoning, hysteria and giant bewinged things. Warnings: Cruciamentum means /torture/, so...y'know, don't expect happy fluffy people. Disclaimers: DS belongs to Alliance. The Cruciamentum and the basic gist of the Watcher's Council belongs to Mutant Enemy. ---- Tom stared into the clear baggie full of guppies and goldfish and shook his head as he tried not to pick out which one he wanted to eat first. "You're losing it. That's gross..." He sighed, stopping in the street only when he heard a crunch behind him. He looked up. The street looked empty, but he knew he was being watched. "James?" He looked behind him, hoping to see the vampire. What he got instead was two Repulsor demons. Great. He dropped the baggie, going for the stake hidden in his jacket. "Oh good. And I thought I might be able to get home without getting into a fight for once. Silly me." "Dead you." One Repulsor nodded behind Tom. He looked over his shoulder. A Chaos and two Enthos. "Very dead you." They went at him at once, and he fought back the only way he knew, as he had fought all his adult life: hard. Almost before he knew what happened, the two Repulsors were taken out with a stake through the heart. The Chaos went down quickly, grossly outmatched in a fight of this nature. Then the Enthos. They put up a nice fight. Instinct drove him to blind them, then kill them so swiftly he was killing the second before the first hit the pavement. He was shaking badly when it happened, the demons had gotten in some good swipes and he was spattered with their blue blood. What would James say?. He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around, lashing out with the stake. Not thinking. The other man stared back at him, wide eyed. Tom stared back. "Oh God...." He looked down. Human blood. Red blood. Human. Oh no. "No..." *** "Willis? Willis, answer me. What...." The two watchers in the van heard their companion scream and looked at each other. Their leader nodded. "Go. Get him now. Bring him in." "What about Willis?" "He's dead." *** He was staring down at the body, unable to look away. Murder. He had murdered a man. There was blood on his hands, cool in the breeze. He had murdered a man. An innocent man. He wanted to faint, wished he could faint. He wanted to run to James, but he couldn't move. He was shocked when he heard the screech of a van pulling up. He felt hands grab him by the arms and he struggled. "No...who..." He cried out as a needle dug into his arm. Drugs. No. The thing in him squirmed, rebelling against his body. "Stop...please..." Restraints were placed around his arms, his legs. Helpless, he was lifted into the van. He heard the doors close, felt his body shift as the vehicle sped off. Then nothing. *** "Something's happened to him." "Whose 'him'?" wondered Ray Kowalski, looking up from where he was feeding Tom's son liquified steak. "My him. Why? Where's Fraser?" "Ah, he took Dief walkies. Hey, Aja! Slow down! The food's not going anywhere." Calhoun paused in his pacing long enough to touch the baby's cheek. "He's growing so quickly." "He keeps eating like this and he'll be bigger than Turnbull." The vampire Elder looked as if he were a million miles away as he looked at the dark-haired infant. "I don't think I ever thanked you or your Mounted Slayer for giving me your trust, Prince Kowalski." "I didn't give you anything you didn't earn, Calhoun. Want to feed him? You and me seem to be his favorites lately." "I think I'll go see if I can find Tom He was going to get some fish for dinner. If I find him, I think I'll go hunting. I'm pretty hungry myself." "Be careful." *** It was the body he saw first. From down the block he'd thought it to be Tom, what with the bag of fish beside it. Until he got near it. The smell was wrong. He could smell Tom on the body, however. His fear. His shock. Demonic blood and human blood. Nothing that was a mix of the two, so Tom wasn't injured. At least, not as far as he could tell. There was a stake in the heart of the body. But he was human. He could smell something else too. Drugs. Maybe muscle relaxants. He peered at tire marks on the street. Someone had done a grab and run. Tom. He jumped at a sudden pain in his arm. He looked down, pulling a tranq dart out. He looked up, eyes meeting the man who had shot him. The black-dressed man stood in an alley across the street. Calhoun could feel an odd numbness spreading through his body. Fury swept over him. He would not be taken so easily. There was a heavy price levelled on the person that wanted to harm him or the people in his life. In the blink of an eye the Sabbat Elder was across the street and yanking the gun out of the man's hands. He twisted the rifle, feeling metal and wood break beneath his hands. Then he seized the startle man. Well, he was hungry... Another dart, this one in the shoulder. He dropped the body. How many of them were there? He had to get away. Capture was clearly their intent and they already had Tom. Where was Fraser? Were they after the Slayer, too? What of the prince and his lord? Damn! Who were these people? Agents of Lilith? Inquisitors? He staggered at more painful needles. One of his attackers made the mistake of moving. Calhoun saw him and crossed the street again, his movements too quick to be tracked by human eyes. He snapped the man's neck with one blow. Another man tried to grab him from behind. Calhoun threw him into the wall with bone-snapping force. Too many. He was weak. Slow. His legs felt like lead. He'd never felt this way, even when he'd been alive. Another tranquilizer dart hit him, this time in the throat. He felt someone trying to lift him, thought he heard his name being called. Then the world tilted, darkening. He fell. And fell hard. *** Dief was busy looking in the window of a deli when Fraser finally caught up with him. He laughed a bit, knowing full well what was constantly on the werewolf's mind. "No, Dief, Ray is making dinner tonight. No snacks." With a small whine the werewolf trotted ahead again, then stopped. When Fraser looked next, the child was gone, replaced by an Arctic wolf. He stood at the corner of their street, bristling threateningly. "Oh, dear! Dief!" He sprinted foreward, rounded the corner - "Jamey!" The vampire was being attacked from all sides. Without hesitation, Fraser ran forward, yanking the first man he encountered off of the Sabbat. They weren't expecting to be attacked from the rear. He shoved another man away, grabbing Calhoun by the leather jacket he always wore, trying vainly to haul his dead weight upright. He could hear Diefenbaker harrying the other men, giving him a few precious seconds... Calhoun was senseless. Fraser felt something burning and sharp slam into his shoulder. His hold slipped. Calhoun fell from his grasp even as the pavement rushed up and he fell atop the vampire. He knew nothing more. *** Dinner was ready, the baby was fed and asleep. Ray Kowalski paced the apartment nervously. Late. They were all too late. Tom and Fraser he could see running into some kind of trouble, but Calhoun? Mr. Unstoppable? Never. He jumped at a scratch at the door. Looking out the peep hole, he couldn't see anything, but the noise persisted until he opened the door a crack. "Dief!" The werewolf was crawling. God, he was hurt! "Oh, my god! Dief! Come on, boy! Oh, god, what the hell happened?" He carried the werewolf into the living room and laid him on the couch. Someone had seen fit to beat him. A child. Oh, god... Footsteps in the hall. Ray ran for his gun and snatched it out of the nightstand even as the front door was kicked in. He saw black figures, six at least, pour into the room. He opened fire, cursed when he wasted two shots before he realised they had vests on. Aja was wailing in his crib as Ray switched to head shots. One of the men dropped before an air-gun was levelled at him. He got off one more round, catching the shooter in the arm, before the dart slammed into his stomach. As he doubled over slightly, they rushed him. They weren't gentle as he was seized, his gun yanked from his hands. Dief growled, trying to come to his aid. Ray screamed as one of the men slapped the little boy down. /Dief...Aja.../ Sirens. Someone had called the police at hearing the shots. /Help.../ *** "What's the casualty list?" "Five dead, four in the hospital with one critical, the remaining six have assorted lighter wounds." "A bit worse than I anticipated. I want to remove it before we start. I don't want to risk damaging the Wyrm child." Tom heard, unable to open his eyes. He felt another prick at his arm and flinched. The drug only took a few seconds to work. It traced a path through his system, a strange heat that centered in his mid section, rousing the demon growing within him. He squirmed on the gurney, suddenly very aware of the intense discomfort from the child he was carrying. Like it was lightly clawing at him. No amount of comforting words he thought at it calmed the child. He gritted his teeth as the pain got worse. He felt a hand on his forehead. It was too warm to be James. "Help me...please..." "Quiet, Slayer." He let out a gasp of pain as the thing clawed hard, trying to dig it's way out of him. His gasps turned into full fledged screams soon enough. The restraints held him on the gurney as his body thrashed. He screamed again, tossing his head back and forth in agony. The watcher above him smiled. He shuddered in pain, pulling at the restraints at his wrists. They started to give. "Hold him! Hold him down!" Hands were all over him, holding him. He felt tearing in his stomach, the pouch opening. He screamed again, feeling blood flow, wishing James were here. James would stop this. He struggled in the grasp of his captors, feeling the child finally free it's self. It struggled to fly....Fly? Oh. God.... He screamed louder. *** He could hear distant screaming and instinctively knew it was Tom. He felt woozy and sick, and was sure Fraser felt the same way. The Prince was still unconscious, collapsed near the wall of the darkened cell. He buried his head in his hands, unable to stand his own helplessness. Beside him, he heard Fraser stir. "What're they doing to him?" He whispered to Fraser. He didn't like the look on the Slayer's face. "Fraser?" "I don't know. I wager they're removing the child..." They looked up as the screams stopped abruptly. Calhoun managed to sit up. What the hell had they hit him with? He didn't know of anything that could do this to a vampire. There came the sound of low talking, and the door to the row of cells opened. Sudden light revealed a veritable plethora of demons in each of the cells. Some were drugged, the ones that weren't looked very ticked off. Closest to the door, Calhoun looked up. It was a prison. Literally. Rows upon rows of cells, reaching up three levels that he could see from this angle. "Where are we?" whispered Fraser. Fear, something Calhoun had not felt in a while, twisted within him. "Hell," he replied, recognizing the place. Calhoun stood as Tom was half carried, half walked onto the floor below by uniformed men. Blood stained the oversized sweatshirt he was wearing. His other shirt must've been rendered irreparable. That wasn't what he was wearing before. Except the pants. Those were quite obviously Tom's. Only Tom would have pants that tacky. /I love a man with no taste. What does that say about me?/ Tom looked completely out of it. Weak and miserable, he lifted his eyes unerringly to where Calhoun pressed against the bars of his cell. Three more guards were removing a circular panel from the floor. His pained brown eyes met James' ice blue ones as he was dragged towards the hole by the burly men holding him upright. "No," begged Calhoun in a whisper. He slid to his knees as the psychic was tossed in. "Oh dear..." Fraser muttered. "What? What's going on?" Calhoun could feel fury banishing the effects of the tranquilizers. "I believe he's being tested." "Tested?" "I'll be next." "But why? Why should he be tested?" Fraser looked up. "He's a slayer." *** Turnbull looked up from locking his apartment door. A watcher was behind him. "You'll have to come with me, sir." "Is there a problem?" He smiled his blandest smile, knowing first hand how ruthless they could be. He knew he was trapped. The watcher nodded. "We're doing the Cruciamentum. You'll have to come with us." "On whom is it being done?" "I can't tell you that." "Who is conducting it?" "I can't tell you that." "Where are we going?" "Hell." *** When Ray Kowalski roused, Fraser was gone. Calhoun had not been easily persuaded to back down. Not until one of the guards had levelled a rifle at Kowalski's head and threatened to shoot his prince. Even so, he may not have given up if Fraser hadn't willingly gone with the men. He woke up feeling ill beyond words. He lacked Calhoun's and Fraser's body mass and fat and the tranquilizer had been absorbed faster and lingered longer. He woke abruptly and moved too soon, lifting his head with a strangled cry of, "Aja!" "Prince Kowalski!" Calhoun knelt beside the detective. "Don't try to move yet." Ray seized his arm. "Dief. They hurt Dief. Where the hell are we?" "Hell." "Oh, hell." Calhoun looked up as the door to the cell opened. a tranq gun was lowered at him. "You'll have to come with us, Mr. Calhoun." *** Tom woke up instantly when the demon hit the floor in front of him. A Rathler. He stumbled to his feet, shakily, and fended off it's attack. Still woozy, it took him longer than usual to dispatch the demon. *** Calhoun stared at the TV monitor, shaking. Their kidnappers had chained him to a chair, and he was watching Tom gracelessly and wearily fight off the third demon they'd thrown at him. He was having trouble believing Fraser's story about Tom being a slayer. Then they dropped in the fourth demon. A Chaos. All slime and antlers. And Tom flew into gear. He fought hard, and fast, grabbing the discarded arm of an Rathler. He was sure his jaw was touching the floor. Demon after demon, vampires, a werewolf, all of them fell before the killing machine that was Tom Grissom. Blood splashed in pools on the floor, dying screams from the demons and cries of exertion from Tom filled the room. Almost an hour passed, then the Chief Watcher deigned to look at the Sabbat elder. "Do you know why you're here?" "To answer pointless questions." "Do not mock me and mine, Sabbat. The one you've taken for a lover is a Slayer born. The one Prince Kowalski loves is a Slayer bred. Both are to be tested." "What for?" "We wish to determine if one is controllable and if the other is truly loyal. We have our doubts." "You've got twisted minds is what you've got." "Return him to the cell. Let him wonder." *** Kowalski was huddled on the floor in the corner, his arms wrapped tight around his middle. He seemed to be having trouble breathing and Calhoun realised they had taken away his glasses. He was completely blind. Shoved into the cell, Calhoun knew from his first incarceration here he could not bend the bars, try as he might. Rather than wasting his energy, he looked to his prince instead. The detective was trembling wildly, sweaty despite the cold, and Calhoun wondered if he could be sick. Or having a flash. That was all they needed. "Kowalski? You okay?" Ray shook his head. "Can't-breath. Can't-" "The tranq? Are you hurt?" He shook his head wildly, his eyes tightly closed. "Walls-too close. Too close. I can't-breath." "You're claustrophobic." He nodded, clearly struggling for control. "Does keeping your eyes closed help?" "Little." "Cold?" "Yeah." Without a word, Calhoun stripped off his leather jacket and handed it to Kowalski, helping him put it on. He was swimming in it. "Where did they take you?" asked Ray, fighting to keep from hyperventilating. "They showed me Tom. He's in an arena slaying demons. Fraser was taken away earlier. He's also getting tested." Breathed Kowalski, "Oh, god..." "They said Tom was born a Slayer, Fraser was bred one." "What about us?" "I've got a nasty suspicion why they grabbed me, at least. I think they want Tom to slay me." "That would kill him." "I know. But if I fight him, I may kill him and I couldn't go on knowing I'd done that." Kowalski nodded, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. He was on the verge of panic, knowing how small the cell was, how close the walls... "Here." Calhoun sat against the wall, pulling Kowalski against him and wrapping his arms around the american to restrain him. "Just breathe, Kowalski. You can do that much. There's plenty of air. Just breathe. Keep still." "What can we do?" asked Ray after a long time. He was not entirely comfortable with his neck so close to calhoun's fangs, but it was better than his phobic stupor. "I'm not old enough to take a direct attack from a Slayer." "Then how did I kill Aja?" "He let you," murmured calhoun, trying not to be distracted by the smell, the closeness of Kowalski. He could not banish the image of what he had done to this man in the back room of an abandoned store last winter. He could sense the life, the raw power that was Stanley Kowalski. He could also sense the ignorance of his own potential that was such a part of his charm. "Oh. How old are you?" "I'm one hundred and forty-four." "What would it take?" "More than I've got." "How about what I've got?" "What?" "Nearest I can figure, I've got more of Caine in me than me. You, Ellery, Lilith, Zuko, and through him Warfield, Sabbat and Gangrel and Bahari and god knows what else. Would Caine's blood help?" Calhoun bent his head, realising what Ray was offering. Blood. The blood of an ancient. From a ghoulite with a soul. He felt Kowalski's warm neck beneath his lips as he paused to breath in the smell of him. Intoxicating. Different from Tom in so many ways, appealing in his own right. "Yes," whispered Calhoun, his mind awhirl. Ray bent his neck to the side, offering himself to the man that had tried more than once to kill him. "Jus' don't get crazy like you did with Tom, 'kay?" He grinned, half heartedly. "I'll try not to let this hurt," he whispered, almost insane with the desire to drink the blood just beneath this fair skin. Ray felt Calhoun shudder and a burning, sucking sensation on the left side of his neck. Calhoun was being gentle this time. It was nothing like the letting. No wonder Tom hadn't put up a fight... All too soon, the contact was over. Any desire that had been roused faded as Calhoun drew away from Kowalski's neck, licking up the few precious drops that oozed up from the puncture marks. Then he sat back, feeling the blood flow through his body, renewing and strengthening him. He held Kowalski tighter, wishing he could find the words to thank his prince for giving him the strength to protect Tom. Such raw power. It could destroy him. It might save him. "Thank you..." He whispered, pulling his prince tighter. *** His head was spinning, but he fought on. And on. He felt like he was running on autopilot. And then they dropped in a Moloch. He stared at the cat demon, and it stared back. It could smell the Moloch blood in him. Knew he wouldn't kill his own kind. As one, their eyes met. As one, they grinned, and looked towards the ceiling. Tom took a running leap at the demon, who grabbed his arms, flinging him up towards the ceiling. He kicked out. *** Calhoun flinched, glancing up as they heard a banging noise. Feet kicking hard wood. He watched as four watchers slowly made their way to the hole, stun guns out and ready. He flinched again as the wood started to splinter. *** Fraser stood in front of the Watcher's desk, eyes downcast as he tried not to listen. "We have brought you hear to update you on the migration of a Moloch who has endowed himself with the power to body jump. You understand, Constable?" "I understand that these sort of tests were deemed archaiac..." "Constable, Tom Grissom is of no concern to you. He's a wild card. He has to be dealt with. He /killed/ a human yesterday evening. Slayers cannot kill humans. It's just not done." **** "TOM! WATCH OUT!" The stun guns fired in rapid succession. **** "If Tom slew a human-" "Killed, Constable Fraser," corrected the Watcher. "He killed a human. Demons and vampires are slain. Humans are killed." "If he was in Slayer mode, the human was slain. There's case law in Saskatoon to prove as much." "We're aware of the law." "Then why is this in question?" "This is not Canada." "The Slayer laws carry over the border." "Grissom is not the issue here, Constable Fraser. /You/ are." "Me, sir?" "A matter of some very questionable conduct." "I don't understand, sir." "I know. That's why you're here." "Then why are Elder Calhoun and Detective Kowalski here as well?" "You mean the Sabbat and the ghoulite?" A chill took Fraser. The picture was getting clearer with each passing moment. *** "Kill the Moloch. Don't bring another. They won't fight their own." "What about Grissom, sir?" "Give him some food and water when he wakes up. Make sure it's treated. Let me know when he's back on his feet." "Should we clean up the chamber?" "Why?" **** "Why am I here?" The Watcher, one he didn't recognize, looked over the desk at him. "That depends on who you are right now, Seeker Turnbull. Are you the Seeker, or are you the Constable?" "We're the same person, Watcher," he answered, insulted by the question and the tone. As if one persona was more valuable than the other. "Well, let's just say you're here for your own good. We wouldn't want a Rachel Seeker to get injured trying to help a bunch of low-lifes that don't deserve -" "Do not take that tone of voice with me, Watcher Winslow," Constable Renfield Turnbull snapped. This arrogant woman needed badly to be reminded of her place. "I am not a 'Rachel Seeker.' That is an insult to my house and to every house of Seekers. And as for those 'low-lifes,' I can only assume you're talking about my friends. Remember in the scheme of things, Watcher, you only got this position by selling out people that trusted you and now you work in clandestine operations that skirt the laws of two countries. I can trace my lineage in an unbroken line all the way to Rachel, wife of Jacob, mother of Joseph and Benjamin. Do you know who your great-grandparents were?" Intimidated, resentful silence was his only answer. "Choose your words with more care, Winslow." *** Vecchio sat in the waiting room, waiting for the doctors to get done with Dief. The wolfkid had called him at 3 in the morning, whimpering and growling. Apparently it had taken Dief some time to hit the right buttons. He had broken ribs, a concussion, some internal injuries. The doctors and vets assured them he would be fine with treatment. Now the baby was beside him, being rocked by Ma. They'd come to the apartment and found it torn apart, blood stains on the walls and floor, bullet holes in the woodwork. No one there except the child, Guess and Dief, and it was clear no forensic team had responded. Vecchio glanced up as Welsh entered. "Well?" "They found a body a couple blocks away from the apartment. Stake in the heart." "Vampire?" "Human." Vecchio paled. "Jesus. The neighbors said the police responded to the apartment. Why isn't there a record of it? No unit, no radio transmissions, nothing. Forensics hasn't been there, and they sure as hell didn't sent EMS." "I know." "What if Cassie hadn't been at Stella's? She could be dead now, too!" "Ray. We need to talk. Mrs. Vecchio, will you excuse us?" Welsh hauled the detective off to the cafeteria for some hours-old coffee. When Welsh spoke, his voice was hushed. "Listen, Ray, I don't have all the details, but this is big and getting bigger by the minute. We're not talking the regular police. The Watchers have taken a really close interest in your friend Grissom. They have their claws into Fraser, and they've been after me and Frobisher to find out why one of their most valuable Slayers is hanging out with a pack of get and a ghoulite." "What did you tell them?" "That they're his friends. They got a laugh out of that. Apparently, Fraser is breaking all the unwritten rules of being a Mounted Slayer and they are not happy." "What the hell can we do?" "What can /you/ do, Vecchio?" "What?" "The Watchers have had their eye on you for a while. They've been after me to push you towards it. They'll be coming soon." "You want me inside." "They're up to something they shouldn't be. I won't get any closer than I am now. They don't trust me and they won't trust you yet, but our boys may need help." "Gotcha." *** Tom blinked rapidly. A new cover was on the ceiling. Metal this time. That'd be harder to get through. He sighed, rolling to his knees. His stomach still ached, and his head was pounding. A bottle of water was by his feet. He popped the top off it, and gave it a sniff. "Drugged." He tossed it aside, shaking his head. He sighed, sitting back on the wall. The bodies had been left behind. It was gonna get crowded in here pretty quick. He eyed the Repulsor's body, biting his lip. *** Winslow shuddered, staring at the video monitor. "Apparently removing the child didn't remove the disgusting food appetite." Turnbull stared at her. "You removed it? Are you insane, or just stupid? You probably threw his entire body out of whack..." "We wanted to test him in as adverse conditions as possible." "Where is the child?" "It's not a child, Seeker. Trust me on that one." "What makes you people think you have the right to do this to these men?" "One is born, one was bred. We need to see which is superior." "To what end?" "Our own end. I understand you underwent a Cruciamentum." "Twice. In Saskatoon. I slew the Chief Watcher." "That was you?" She blanched. "Remember that, Winslow. If the born slayer's as powerful as he looks, he won't hesitate to do the same." *** He did not want to be here, doing this. It was wrong. Immoral. Slaying demons was one thing. These beings had been incarcerated to pay for their crimes, not to be slaughtered in a perverted, sadistic test that proved...nothing. He was in a pit, waiting. It was a circular room with a high ceiling that housed a trap door. Tom must have been put into something similar. What had they done to Ray? And Dief? Why were they doing this? He knew what he was, though he had never told anyone, not even Ray. He was a Breed, a Slayer born of Slayers born of Slayers and so on for untold generations. A sleeping giant. The ability lay dormant in his blood and so had been carefully preserved even as he had been taught to fight and destroy like few others. He waited, his hand sweaty around the stake they had given him. Then it started. Three enthos demons dropped into the room. They saw him, fooled by the guards' promise of freedom if they killed this human. They had no idea of what they were up against. Benton Fraser, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Slayers, taught them the futility of their hopes. *** Turnbull crossed his arms, tilting his head as he watched the slayer born toss the Filtha Demon's bones into the wall. They embedded easily. What was he.... Suddenly Turnbull suppressed a smile. Very ambitious. Very smart. Filtha demon bones were very strong. It would seem the Slayer born was building a ladder. Winslow sat back, regarding Fraser's progress with some disdain. "He's good. But it's not enough..." She tapped her fingers against her lips. "Prepare the Sabbat." She called to one of her lackeys. "Medicate him into a frenzy. And send Grissom the Order of D'Hoffren." "They'll kill him." "Another will be called." *** Tom jumped to his feet as three demonic looking vampires were dropped in. Malkavian. "Pretty Slayer..." "Pretty whore." "Dead whore." They circled him, and he turned slowly. He gripped the Filtha bone in his hand, using it as a stake as the vampires attacked. One by one he slayed them, until.... He felt a sharp pain at his stomach. He cried out as the knifegrazed his stomach. He knocked it away with a shaking hand. His other hand came back with blood and he lashed out with the makeshift stake. The last vampire went down. And then he did too. *** "Now. Send The Order of Taraka." "You're insane." "It's high time he got a little mad..." *** He swung, feeling cold blood spurt up from the wound in the vampire's belly. He had given up trying to reason with them. None of them would have it. They attacked despite his words and he had the lacerations to prove it. He'd lost count after the tenth demon fell. At least twice that again littered the floor around him with their corpses and blood. A werewolf, artificially forced into human mode. She leaped from the ceiling. Numb with exhaustion, Fraser seized her, trying not to think of Diefenbaker as he wrapped her in a headlock, yanking her head back. A disgusting snap and she was limp in his arms. Regretfully, he put her down, looking up at the cameras he knew were watching him. "Enough!" he shouted. *** The Chief Watcher smiled. "Not by a long shot, Constable. Send in the Spiritus Sanctii." *** "They're coming for us, Prince Kowalski." Unable to open his eyes, Ray nodded, shifting off of Calhoun. "They must still be alive, if we are." "My Prince?" "Yeah, Cal?" He could feel the vampire lean close to speak to him. "Stay alive. We will escape here. And I will make every one of them pay for what they've done today." "Sounds like a plan." "Step away from the ghoulite, Sabbat!" ordered a new voice. "Step away, or I'll kill him!" "Shouldn't that be slay?" mocked Calhoun, moving away from Kowalski. "You! Ghoulite! Step to the front of the cell." "Five steps to your right, Ray," provided the vampire. He resisted the urge to help. He turned, one hand reaching out for the door of the cell. He heard it open and rough hands seized him and yanked him out and to the floor. There was a crushing weight on his back as a guard pinned him, then cuffed his arms behind him. Behind him, he heard Calhoun's voice raise in indignation at such brutal treatment, then...nothing. *** Tom was slumping against the wall when they were dropped in. The Order of Taraka. They stared at him, then at each other. Snakily, the one who appeared to be composed of maggots, grabbed Tom as he fell. Tom suppressed a shudder. "He's injured." "He's a Slayer." "Dishonorable." "There's no honor at all in the kill." "We refuse." "Refuse." "Refuse..." *** Winslow glared at the monitor. "Kill them. Useless demons anyway." Turnbull stared in horror, "He's injured. He cannot fight much longer." "Then he'll die." She turned to her lackey again. "Is the Sabbat prepared?" "Yes." "Send him down." *** Vecchio swiped the e card Welsh had given him through the card lock. He nodded to a watcher guard as he was escorted through the compound. He was being brought to the head honcho, he assumed. Good. Maybe she could help. *** The arena was too silent for too long. There had to be something in here with him. He could neither see nor hear it, but he could sense it. The room was getting colder. Frost was forming on the corpses, turning them white in the faint light. He thought he saw something, a glowing white form like mist, hovering in the air by the wall. He tried to see it, but it flitted away, always in the corner of his vision, never to be seen directly. A Spiritus Sanctii. The name was deceiving. There was nothing holy nor spiritual about this thing. They were by-products of the Holocaust, collective grief and fury so intense, so unrequited that emotional energy had taken form. "Auschwitz?" wondered Fraser. "Dachau," whispered a million voices. "Would you kill me?" "I would. I am." The ground was frozen. The air was still and cold. Fraser knew he would freeze to death if he didn't do something fast. He had nothing. A stake. He had never seen or faced a Spiritus Sanctii in his life. There were not have been more than ten of them in the world. Once, there had been twelve on record. What had become of the other two? "Do you /want/ to kill me?" "It is what I am, Slayer." "Two of your number are gone," he called into the darkness, feeling the cold press closer. "Would you join them?" "I would." "Tell me how." "Destroy this form." "How?" "We are trapped in the physical world. Caught in our own maelstrom. Shatter this being." He tried, but he could not focus on the pearly form. A thought struck him. He had slain an enthos demon. They were notoriously compact of body. Like rocks. He kicked a corpse off the demon's body, dragging it out to a free space on the floor. "Freeze this, Spiritus." **** "He's working with the damned thing!" cursed Winslow. "That's exactly what it is. He's freeing it." "He can't!" Turnbull cocked his head. "This doesn't fit into your test?" "Damnit, we have to stop him!" She hit a button on the desk. "Send in a guard to watch the Seeker. We've got a problem!" *** Calhoun landed on his knees, struggling to remove the ropes binding his him. He mind was full of frenzy. The entire room smelled of blood. Reeked of it. Eyes glowing, he glared up at the lone creature in the room. Focused on him. Tom stared at him, shaking. The adrenaline rush was great. He gasped, painfully as James rushed him, shoving him to the floor. Hands went to his neck. Squeezing. He couldn't fight. Didn't want to fight. *** Winslow slung the stun gun over her shoulder, aiming it at the constable through the grating. Suddenly she heard shouting from her office, and turned back. "What's going on?" "The Sabbat. He's killing him," called the young man assigned to guard the Seeker. He pointed at the screens. Winslow glowered. "Your point?" "We have no idea who will activate, we..." "I know who..." She glanced at the Slayer on the monitor. "I'll be right back." *** "Sharpe! The Slayer! He is not to free the Spiritus Sanctii!" "Yes, Ma'am! We'll recall it immediately." If he had simply tried to kill it, he would have failed and died. Somehow, he had called their bluff. "Recall it. Send in more demons. Let's make this interesting. I want another eight or nine Class A's in rapid succession. Then put Kowalski in there when Fraser is good and riled." "Yes, Ma'am!" She smiled. /This is our game, Constable, not yours./ *** Tom's hands flew up, trying to loosen James' grip around his throat. "James...ple..." He gasped, sparks flying in his vision. his heart was beating way too fast. He could hear it pounding, drum like, in his ears. Calhoun squeezed harder. He could feel Tom gasping for breath underneath him, had to fight to ignore it, not to look at the betrayal in his lover's dark eyes. He would not have been able to go on if he saw Tom's face. Tom's vision darkened, his fingers wouldn't tighten around James' arms. "Please stop...J..." Tighter grip. He couldn't get in any air now. James felt weakened hands pull at his arms as he whispered an agonized mantra to the dying man even as his mind screamed a prayer to a god he could no longer claim as his own. "Shhh...I love you. I love you. This will make them stop. I love you..." Tom went limp beneath him, and he sagged on top of the dead slayer. Then he threw his head back and screamed in anguish too great to be borne. *** Relative warmth returned. Somehow, they had snatched the tragic Spiritus Sanctii away before he could try to free it. Millions of souls would go on in pain. He couldn't understand what point it served to enslave such an unfortunate creature. Suddenly an Ubel demon, all darkness and wings and claws, erupted from the midst of the heap of corpses. Shattered limbs and rotting vampire flesh scattered across the arena. With nothing more than the stake they had allowed him, Fraser lunged. Fraser froze mid fight. He felt a sudden rush of power in him, and began fighting with renewed strength. Had he been drugged? Or was it something else? Something he didn't want to even think about. The Ubel howled in disbelief and fury as it died. Fraser blinked. He had no idea how he had managed to slaughter a demon twice his size. He darted out of the way as it's bat-like wings lashed out, only to turn and find himself faced by two enthos demons. They glared. Fraser smiled. And fought on. *** Turnbull shoved past the boy guarding him, running towards the arena they were keeping Tom and Calhoun. He passed by Vecchio enroute and without skipping a beat, seized him by the arm and pulled him along. "He's killed him. I think he's killed him." "Who killed who?" "Calhoun killed Tom! Come on! We've got to get down there!" The grating was off the pit. Apparently the Watchers had decided a dead Slayer was not a threat. The Seeker savagely shoved his way through the ring of guards, backfisting one man that refused to move out of his way. After that, they offered no resistance. They knew who and what this Mountie was and no one dared raise a hand to him. Vecchio was right on his heels, getting in a few shoves of his own. Turnbull stood at the lip of the opening. All was dark and stank of death within. "Calhoun!" he yelled into the blackness. Suddenly a clawed hand appeared from the pit and slammed into the concrete floor, shattering the ground at the Seeker's feet. Turnbull grabbed, yanking Calhoun up with Vecchio's help. "What have you done?" He stared at the limp body over Calhoun's shoulder. "Bought us some time." Calhoun said, cryptically. "You know CPR?" Without a word, Turnbull set to work with Vecchio at his side. Calhoun stood guard above them, his blood running hot and furious at the people that had forced him to kill the one thing in this world he loved. **** As a general rule, Ray Kowalski was blind as a bat. After having been bit by Marcus Ellery, his vision had become increasingly sensitive until he had to wear tinted glasses even at night. Right now, he couldn't even open his eyes and even if he did, he knew he would see nothing. So he waited, not moving in the unfamiliar room they shoved him in. He was glad of the coat Calhoun had given him. It was freezing in here. A scream of pure, animal fury and grief wrent the air. Even muffled and far away, it made Kowalski's skin crawl. Something terrible had happened. Fraser? Or Tom? Someone entered the room, moving to stand beside him. He didn't even turn in their direction. He was helpless, why prove it? A hand gripped his hair, yanking his head to the side to expose the bite marks. "You fucking bastard!" exclaimed a woman. "Beat ya at yer own game, huh?" he couldn't resist asking. "You gave him the blood of the ancients! No wonder Grissom couldn't kill him!" Ray snickered. "Sounds like ya don't appreciate people takin' their own fates into their hands." "Hold him." More hands. Kowalski was shoved onto the floor with such force it knocked the wind out of him. He struggled as he felt a needle penetrate his neck. "Don't worry, Prince Kowalski," purred the woman. "This is just in return for giving the Sabbat your blood. It's just going to shut you up for a little while." He felt a burning, a constriction of his throat. He tried to scream, and found he couldn't. His voice was gone. The woman's voice was smug. "You're up, ghoulite." *** Tom lay on the floor, coughing hard. "Oh God...why..." He stared up at the three men hovering over him. "James..." "They wouldn't stop unless one of us died. We can bring you back." He stroked Tom's hair back, trying to ignore the demon blood splattered on Tom's clothes. "You don't realise what you've done, do you?" He squirmed. "Oh God..." Even the slayer blood in him was boiling, someone had been called. Three Slayers. Maybe more. Medical technology had done much to increase the lives of Slayers. There was no telling how many resurrections there might have been. "Fuck!" Calhoun flinched, not exactly sure what Tom was mad about, since he seemed not to harbor any anger to the actual death. "Tom?" "When a Slayer dies, another is called. That happened once already with that girl in California. Do you /realise/ what you've done?" Turnbull thought back to what had happened in the office, and paled. "Fraser." *** Ray tried to scream as the stake narrowly missed him. What was Fraser doing? Why? couldn't he see what he was doing? The arena was pitch black and he could see perfectly well. It was Fraser who was blind now, running on his other senses that had been honed by a lifetime of training and...breeding. And he was fucking trying to kill Ray Kowalski. He tried, but could not speak. Whatever they had injected him with robbed him of his voice. He tried to dodge the stake Fraser wielded, but his Mountie seemed possessed and he was much better at this than Ray ever wanted to be. The Slayer's big hand clamped down on his forearm, yanking him foreward. A silent scream escaped Ray as the stake was buried in his left shoulder. He couldn't begin to describe or understand the pain. He fell to the floor, Fraser's weight suddenly heavy upon him as the Slayer's hands grouped for the stake. Ray reached for Fraser's hand that wrapped around the wooden spike, wanting to touch his lover one last time before he died. Perhaps now he would pass over completely... *** This last one was strange. He knew the smell but could not categorize it to his own satisfaction. Not demon. Not vampire. Maybe not even undead. What was it? It moved swiftly and silently, and when he finally seized upon it, it had a leathery hide. He drove his stake in deep, feeling warm blood that smelt like copper and vinegar. Why didn't it fight back? He could hear it breathing heavily, smell it's pain and fear. What was it? Still alive, it fell and he pounced atop it, ready to impale this thing and move on to the next. He would empty Hell if he could. Empty it of even the Watchers... Fraser froze for the second time that day. That touch. He knew that hand. Those long, elegant fingers he had so often admired. "Ray..." His voice was weak. Tired. "Oh...no..." The hand traced up his arm, touching his cheek, brushing his lips lightly and delicately. Fraser had no words for this moment: the shock, the horror, the relief. "Ray? Ray? Please, speak to me! Ray?" Silence. He shifted off his lover and wrapped his arms around that slight frame. Now he knew the smell. Ray's weird combination of living and undead, Calhoun's leather jacket. "What did they do to you?" He felt Ray shake his head. The American was trembling in his grasp. Suddenly light flooded the room from above. Ray writhed, hiding his face against Fraser's chest as the Mountie squinted up at the opening. Another demon of a type he did not recognize. This one was tiny, winged, it's color that of rotting flesh. It hissed, and the Slayer knew he faced a creature of pure malice and evil. Fraser looked down at Ray, his fingers wrapping around the stake. Without opening his eyes, Kowalski just nodded, tensing. Fraser yanked the wooden shaft free on one motion, his heart breaking as Ray tried to scream but could not. Completely unafraid, he rose to face the demon, knowing that for Ray's sake he could not lose this battle. *** "Don't be mad at Jamey, Tom," Turnbull breathed. "He did it to save you." "I'm not mad at James, I'm mad at the situation," panted Grissom. "I know what James did and why. It was a brilliant move on his part." The sarcasm all but dripped into puddles on the floor. "But Fraser is too close. He'll be activated. He'll be a Slayer Born and Bred!" To Tom's surprise, Turnbull smiled. "Precisely." They stared at the Seeker, the implications dawning on all of them. It was Calhoun who broke their silence. "They are so fucked." *** Ray stared as Fraser fought the demon thing. It couldn't be more than a child. What would a child be doing in Hell? Suddenly it dawned on him. Tom. They'd removed the demon from Tom. /Oh my God./ He closed his eyes. The Wyrm. No. *** Tom followed Turnbull into the office, stunned to see Winslow actually there. "My child. Where is he?" He demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You're alive." She sounded shocked, but quickly composed herself. "Well. A surprising turn of events. I assume you had something to do with this, Seeker." "Well, you know what happens when you assume," Turnbull shot back. He glanced at Tom. "What is it?" Tom was staring at the monitor, watching the fight in the other arena. Fraser was pitted against a creature like nothing Tom had ever seen. He knew it instinctively. She nodded to him. "The Wyrm Child. Adolph." "No." He shook his head. "What the hell have you done?" He grabbed her by the arm, almost dragging her over the desk. Then he ran back out and towards the pit, pulling Winslow with him. She was unable to loosen his hold. Turnbull stared at the monitor. "Oh..." *** Calhoun helped Vecchio pry the cover off of the second arena, hearing the hissing of whatever demon the constable was fighting, loud and clear. "What the hell is that thing?" wondered Vecchio. "I don't think we want to find out," muttered the Sabbat. He cautiously leaned over the hole. "Fraser! Prince Kowalski!" He listened. He could hear them breathing. Kowalski was bleeding. Badly. Fraser was in a state beyond reason. He was also hampered by having to defend the American. "I'm going down there." "Are you nuts?" "Prince Kowalski is injured." "And you look like crap, Calhoun!" "I'm not done yet. Or would you rather go?" Vecchio glowered. "Get me a stake. The guards should have some." Within a minute Vecchio was handing Calhoun two stakes and blowing on knuckles he had scraped in persuading the guards to part with the weapons. Calhoun wiped his brow. He was actually sweaty. Odd. They looked up as Tom, dragging Winslow, appeared on the catwalk above. At the sight of the Watcher the remaining demons hissed and called from their cells in a riot of noise that almost deafened then. A sound drifted up from the pit. Fraser was screaming in fury. "No! James, no!" Tom cried as he saw his vampire lover drop into the arena. He whirled on Winslow. "You did all of this! If anything happens to any of them, you'll regret it!" *** He landed in the circle of light and immediately dove for cover. The room was filled with corpses of the undead and the demonic. Like Tom, Fraser had risen to his calling. It was carnage. He spotted Fraser immediately. The Mountie was fending off the small demon as he stood over Kowalski. Clearly the detective was injured and the demon was pressing his advantage. He ran, unable to achieve his usual speed. Perhaps the tranquilizers... He snatched Kowalski up from the bloody floor even as he tossed the stakes to the Slayer. Fraser had the same determined look Tom had worn, only instead of insanity, there was the light of knowledge in his eyes. Kowalski was light. Too light. Calhoun frowned in disapproval. No way in hell this man was healthy. He darted back to the opening. "Move!" he shouted at Vecchio as the detective leaned over the hole. He tensed, crouching, and leaped. He wouldn't have made it if Tom and Vecchio hadn't helped. Vecchio immediately pulled Kowalski free as Tom examined James for any injuries. "Are you-" A scream echoed up from below. This time it wasn't Fraser. Tom blanched. "Benny!" shouted Vecchio. He leaned far into the pit. With a muffled curse, Calhoun scrambled to join him and Tom braced their legs. Fraser was running across the arena while behind him the demon fluttered and struggled to fly. "I can't reach!" shouted Fraser after several tries to grab their hands. "Use your tunic!" ordered Vecchio. He ripped the red coat from his back and swung it up to them. They gripped it and held tight. "Climb!" It was the longest minute of Vecchio's life. Watching Stan get attacked by a dozen Gangrel paled by comparison as Benton Fraser climbed hand over hand until Calhoun grasped his arm. "Keep going," he whispered. Abruptly, the Mountie's considerable weight vanished and they were yanked back to see - Turnbull. The Seeker smiled. "I strongly suggest you cover that pit again." "No." Tom grabbed Winslow again, "You named him after a Malkavian..." He took a step towards her, forcing her back. "You put my /child/ in a demon pit, and forced my /friend/ to try and kill him..." "Slayer, he is not a child. He's Wyrm. He's..." "Slayer...that's right. I am. I do /not/ answer to you, do I? No real Slayer does..." He sniffed. "Slayer...hm....slay her..." He shoved her. Hard. She fell down the pit, landing on her back. He watched as Adolph sniffed at her in wonderment. Calhoun gasped as Tom jumped down into the pit, landing on his hands and knees. "Tom?" In light of new revelations, he was still shocked by Tom's behavior. He'd never expected that. "It's all right. He won't hurt me." He watched, oddly affectionate, as his Wyrm child tore her apart. Feeling an odd sense of satisfaction. He gave a half smile as the demon came towards him, uncertainly. A rotting hand went to his face. He clasped it, tightly. "Daddy...?" A raspy voice intoned. He squeezed the hand, gently. "Daddy." "Everything's gonna be fine. We'll get out of here. Go home..." He felt a deep ache in his stomach. Looked down. Adolph had clawed him. Deep and painfully. He stared as blood soaked the borrowed sweatshirt quickly. He wouldn't look up. Couldn't look up. Fingers pulled at his chin. His eyes met Adolph's, shaking. Blurred. "No..." Claws at his jawline. The demon could take his head off if he liked. "No." He met the demon's eyes. Ray Kowalski could have told him they matched the Wyrm's eyes perfectly. Evil, cold, sadistic. Tom felt his heart skip a beat. His child. "Not. Yours." Adolph's voice was full of hate. "Not. Yours. Slayer." He raised his hand to kill his father... Suddenly the demon was smashed backwards, a stake protruding from his side. Tom twisted, looking up. Fraser stood on the lip of the opening, panting. Tom shook his head, feeling the world end at the loss of his third child. Cassie had been taken, Adam's mind had been destroyed before he had been born, and now Adolph... "No," he murmured, drained. "No..." Was he speaking to Fraser or his son? The room tilted to the right, and he fell hard. His eyes blurred over as he watched his child unsteadily launch into the air and fly off. His child. His evil. "No..." He heard someone land at his side, and opened his eyes. He didn't remember closing them. Turnbull's blurry visage met him gaze. "Tom?" Turnbull's voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel. "Tom, can you hear me?" "Son...my son..." He gasped, painfully. He lifted a bloody hand, staring at it. Watching it shake. "Ow..." A cold hand touched his face. "Why? Why....?" Silence from Turnbull, and then. "The paramedics are on their way." "Mine..." /Not. Yours. Slayer./ *** The stake had gone through clean. Fraser sighed with relief when he'd heard that. He didn't think he could handle it if he'd hurt Ray. Mina gave him a kind smile, squeezing his own shoulder and heading into the next room to check on Tom. Fraser frowned as he thought about the Slayer in the next room over. Life had not been kind to him, and didn't look like it intended to be any time soon. He shook those thoughts out of his head, and leaned forward to brush his lips against Ray's clammy forehead. His partner had not spoken nor regained consciousness since he'd collapsed in the arena and despite the blood tests, Fraser quietly feared there may have been more to the drug Winslow had given him than just robbing him of his voice. He had noticed the fresh scabs on Ray's neck and knew he had let Calhoun take the blood of Caine. What did this make Calhoun now? Alone with the sleeping man, Fraser clasped his hand where it lay atop the blankets, never wanting to let go. He needed to talk with his father and Frobisher to understand fully what had happened to him. He knew he was changed. He knew he was now Born and Bred. He just needed to know what it meant. Ray stirred, his legs shifting and his hand wrapping around Fraser's familiar one as he roused out of the drugged stupor. Fraser bent over him as Ray's chapped lips formed a word. "'ey," he rasped softly. "Dere ya are. Lost ya." Fraser smiled, stroking his hair. "I was stolen," he corrected. "Again." "Y'okay?" Fraser nodded. "And you?" "Sleep...y." He drifted off again. Fraser sat down, a mighty weight lifted from his shoulders. *** Not far away, in another room, a similar vigil was being held by James Calhoun as he, too, waited for his lover to wake. The lacerations inflicted by Adolph had been deep but clean and required only stitches. Mina was more worried about the damage to the birthing pouch. Adolph's lacerations were meticulous. He'd been trying to tear it out. Only Fraser's quick thinking had stopped him. Calhoun feared far more the impact of what the demon child lashing out to injure him, then abandoning him, would do to Tom. All his children had been taken from him, one way or another, and that levelled a heavy toll on the Slayer. He looked up as Cassie entered the room, carrying Adam. to Calhoun's surprise, he could barely focus his eyes on the dark-haired teenager. "How's dad?" she asked. He wondered how much she knew about her father's Slayer abilities. How much she believed. "He'll be fine. He should wake up soon. How are you?" "Ma Vecchio is the coolest. Frannie took me shopping the other day and we got all these clothes and make-up and stuff. It was fun. And Stella and Irene took me out to lunch yesterday to this cafe for demons." She smiled up at him. "I'm really glad you came and got me, Jamey." He smiled. "So am I." "Hey, can you watch Adam for a sec? I have /got/ to go use the ladies room and Ray said Ben is here." "Yeah," he replied, tired. "Did he bring Dief?" "Uh-huh. His tail is gone now and he keeps leaving the water running." He took the warm bundle from her arms and watched as she hurried out. Looking down at the dark-haired baby, Calhoun addressed him directly. "My Lord, I understand why you did not wish to go near Tom these past few weeks. But he desperately needs you now. The child was...was of Wyrm, forcefully torn from him by the Watchers in Hell. Please don't turn from him, Lord Caine." The large, dark eyes regarded him knowingly and Calhoun felt a sense of relief. He leaned over the bed, balancing Caine as he gently shook Tom's shoulder. "Tom? Tom, wake up. It's time to wake up. Cassie and...Adam are here. Tom?" The psychic roused sleepily, his memory fogged by the drugs he'd been given. James looked tired. Worn. He needed to rest. What had he said? With a smile, the vampire unwrapped the blanket from Caine and gently placed the weeks-old baby on Tom's chest. Able to lift his head already, Caine gazed at his father and smiled, talking nonsense that brought a glow to Tom's expression. Cassie returned, full of excited talk and news about life in Chicago. Tom happily listened to her prattle on about clothes and the room she had at the Vecchio's. Calhoun slowly made his way to the door. He wanted to be far away from Tom before he collapsed. He only made it as far as the stairs. *** Harding Welsh was an angry man. The Watchers in Hell had broken every rule in the book. Not since Saskatoon had a Cruciamentum been performed, and the forced emergence of Turnbull as a Seeker had come about with a heavy, though on Turnbull's part, justified, price. Now they had messed with something that never should have been touched. Tom Grissom was a Slayer born - a /male/ Slayer born, no less. They were unheard of, just as Seekers were /never/ female, even though the four houses were matriarchal. Still, the Watchers should not have initiated a Cruciamentum. There was no reason to test these men. Grissom had undergone his mandatory testing at the age of 18, after three years as a slayer. And now, Grissom would not be controlled by the Watchers and now Fraser...Fraser was something entirely new and inexplicable. Born and Bred he was. Welsh sat in his office, waiting for Vecchio to come to work, trying to fathom what this meant. They had been breeding and training Slayers in the hopes of not only keeping The Slayer Born alive past their eighteenth birthday, but keeping them sane at the same time. The program, though limited, had been successful. Too successful now, it appeared. What would Fraser be? The uncontrolled, uncaring killing machine that Grissom was, or would he keep his newly-freed instincts in check? Was it too early to call Frobisher? Welsh didn't care. He picked up the phone and dialed, knowing the Mountie would be as furious as he over what had been done to their boys. *** Dief stared at the cold packmate lying by the stairs, a nervous growl rising in his throat. He spotted one of the females in the strange clothes that tended the humans here and pulled her over, anxious for her to help the cold one. Poison. A mild one. He'd climbed the Filtha ladder Tom had made in his pit, not realising that it was poison to vampires. He's be sick for a few days, with flu-like symptoms. Unused to being sick, Calhoun was miserable beyond telling and seemed determined to share his misery with the world at large. *** Tom felt Cassie touch his face, gently. "Daddy?" She whispered, gently. He suddenly froze in fear. Fear. Afraid of his own children. "Daddy, who did this?" Her voice was gentle, like his father's. Caring. He closed his eyes, not wanting to answer her. "Who hurt you, daddy?" "Your brother," he whispered back, smiling oddly. "Adam?" She sounded perplexed. He shook his head. "No...Adolph...a Wyrm..." He opened his eyes, stung by the horror he saw in her own. He gave an oof as he suddenly found her hugging him tightly, Adam gently cradled in his arms. "Cass..." She suddenly gave a strange laugh. "Grandma would know what to do. One thing she was good at was stuff like this." Tom nodded, hugging his daughter closer for a minute before letting her go. Then he said the one thing he /knew/ he was going to regret later on. "Call her?" "You want me to call her." "Yeah. Please." She nodded, quickly. "Ok. I'll go borrow Ray's phone." He deflated as she left, holding Adam closer. For the moment, not a Slayer. Not Calhoun's lover. Just an ex cop who wanted his mother. No matter what. *** Cassie dialed the cellphone, sitting beside Vecchio in the hallway. "Grandma?" She whispered, when the woman answered her phone. "Cass...Cassie?" Heller was stunned. She had been sure she'd never hear from her granddaughter again. "What's the matter? Ready to come home?" "No. Hold on, ok?" Lead by Vecchio, she went back into her father's room, handing him the phone. Vecchio took Adam, sitting in a chair by the bed. He didn't know the story behind what had happened with Tom and his mother, but it couldn't have been good. "Mom?" Tom's voice was throaty, tired. A long pause. He was sure she'd hung up. Then: "What happened? Are you all right?" "I'm in the hospital." He took a deep breath. "A lot has happened." Her voice was cool. "Are you still shacked up with that bastard?" Tom closed his eyes, wondering why everyone insisted on calling James by that name. "Mom, I'm not calling to discuss James or apologise for whatever he did to you. I need help." "He tied her up," Cassie whispered to Vecchio, delighted at the memory. "Grandma's a real witch sometimes." "What do you need, Tom?" "In the past two months I've delivered two sons." "Together?" "No. Two separate occurrences. The second was the day before yesterday." She was quiet. "That's too close together, Tom. Cecil?" "The first one." "The second?" "Wyrm." "What?" Her voice was shocked. Disbelieving. "Wyrm. The child is gone. He attacked me and left. Mom, I know what you did to Dad." Silence. Lauren Heller hand been found out. "Mom?" "Yes, Tom?" "Listen, I don't want to get into why you did that right now. I've got enough on my plate. I just need to know how to get him back. Please." More silence. Then she said, "Got a pen?" *** "Frase?" At Ray's hoarse voice, Benton Fraser roused, leaning foreward in his chair beside the hospital bed. "Yes, Ray?" "Can we go home?" He smiled warmly, knowing the full meaning of that question. Ray was feeling better. "Let's." Fraser glanced at the door as it opened. Ma entered, pushing a wheelchaired Calhoun in it. The Sabbat looked nauseous and exhausted and grumpy as all get-out. Fraser tried to keep from staring at the strange picture the little Italian woman and the cranky vampire made. "What happened?" "Some sort of poisoning. I'm taking him home with us," she said, using her 'I'll not take no for an answer' voice. Calhoun, apparently, had already given up that particular battle. "They can't help him here." Ray looked a bit confused. "Wait...we're going..." "Home with us. You need to eat, you look like a rail. Mrs. Durso asked if I don't love you that I don't feed you, Raymond. You embarrass me." Calhoun snickered evilly. Ma Vecchio smacked him and it was Ray's turn to laugh. *** Tom finished writing down his mother's instructions, and handed them to Cassie. "Can you go find Turnbull, and please give this to him?" He asked, smiling a bit as she left. He frowned as his mother said something. "What?" "I said, are you all right?" Her sudden concern was surprising. Unexpected. Something he hadn't seen since his 18th birthday. Since she'd put him through the testing. He took a minute to answer. Let her worry. "Not...not really, no." More silence. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up before he could tell her not to come. He blinked, shocked again. He felt Vecchio's eyes on him. "What's wrong?" the detective asked, concerned. "I don't know." *** Cecil made his way down the hall, carefully holding on to the wall. Ever since Tom had turned the gun on him, resulting in his current condition, he'd found it difficult to get around. His parents were ecstatic though. He found the door to the hospital room and knocked, lightly. "Come in," called a voice. He entered the sunlit room to find Vecchio sitting with Tom. Immediately intimidated, the demon blushed and looked at the floor, the wall - anywhere but at the Chicago Knight that tenderly cradled Adam in his arms even as he looked daggers at Cecil. "You want something here?" demanded Vecchio. "I...I heard Tom was hurt," he stammered. "I...just wanted to see how he's doing." "Ray," Tom quietly asked. Vecchio rose and returned the baby to his father. He adjusted his jacket and gave Cecil another look, tempted to remind him that the statute of limitations never ran out in cases like his. Instead he said, "I'll go check up on Stan." "Ray? Thanks," said Tom quietly. "How are you?" asked Cecil when they were alone. "I've been better. How are you? And the twins?" "I'm okay. My parents are ecstatic. They didn't think I had it in me." He smiled, amused. "I heard you're expecting again." "Not anymore. I..." "I'm sorry." "No...it's a long story. I don't feel like talking about it right now." "How is Adam?" "Want to hold him?" Cecil gladly took the child, hesitantly sitting down with his one-time lover. "Um...James won't kill me for sitting with you, will he?" "I won't let him." "He really does love you, you know. I know that's odd for a Sabbat..." "He was Gangrel, then made Autarkis, then became a Sabbat Elder." "How very lonely," commented the demon, rocking his son. "No wonder he's so possessive of you." Tom stared at him, wondering at the simple comment. He's never thought of James in those terms. Cecil felt the stare and looked up wonderingly. "You think he's lonely?" The enthos demon blinked. "Yes. Or, he was until he met you. Maybe he's just not used to having what he needs. I've dealt with a lot of people like that. They scare themselves sometimes." Like you, he thought to himself. /A lot like you, Tom./ "You think he's frightened?" "Very." "What of?" He shrugged. "Loving you? Needing you? Losing you?" Tom sighed. "He won't lose me." "Do you love him?" Tom nodded. "Very much, yes." "Maybe he's afraid of becoming what he was." Tom looked up, sharply. "What he was?" "Before he met you, for a long time he was cruel. A monster. Zuko told me he crucified your Mountie friend. Tried to kill Prince Kowalski. He was crazed. Lilith had him right here." He pressed his thumb to the nightstand. "I don't care," Tom said, quickly, suddenly wishing Cecil would go away. "Can you love a man like that?" "I loved you." "Touche. You've given him hope, Tom. Something he hasn't had in over a lifetime. Maybe he's afraid of losing that feeling." He didn't know exactly what Tom had been up to his years in Chicago, but he planned to find out. It couldn't have been good. Perhaps Calhoun had given Tom hope as well? Cecil regarded his former lover, carefully. He touched Tom's stomach as gently as possible and tried to assess the damage. "It was forced from you." "Yeah. Cecil, I said I didn't want to..." "Talk. I know. But I also know you." He leaned forward. "I know you'll keep it bottled up, and then one day you'll blow. And you'll hurt someone. Maybe slay a human." "Been there, done that," he whispered. Cecil cocked his head. "When?" "A Watcher. Two days ago." "The Watchers did this to you." His tone was flat. They'd pay for that. He'd make sure the House of Noor took care of it. No one hurt the father of a Noor Child. No matter what. "They removed it, yes." The Enthos demon noted the moniker. He hadn't referred to the child as a he or a she. Strange. "Then who..." He paused. "The child did this?" "It's Wyrm." "Oh God..." He closed his eyes. Worry didn't begin to describe what he was feeling. *** He had a lot to think about when Cecil finally left. Tom Grissom sat and rocked his son and thought about his lover. It fit. He'd seen the twisted core that was in James Kilpatrick Calhoun. He knew what it was like to live without hope. He'd been doing it for years. James had been doing it for over a century. He needed to talk to him. Suddenly it occurred to Tom he had not seen James since the morning. He was about to page the nurse when the phone rang. He lifted it before the noise woke Adam. "Hello?" "Tom?" asked a weak voice. "James? James, what is it? What's happened?" "...poison...Filtha bones..." Tom's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, my god! Where are you? James?" He was panicking, he knew it, and he didn't care. Calhoun's voice was slurred. "They took me..." Oh, god, who had him? Tom had a hideous vision of what his life would be without the vampire in it. Another voice in the background became clear. "What are you - give me that!" Tom was almost weeping, praying whomever had James would talk to him, let him know what they wanted. Oh, god, what if it was the Watchers? "Yo, Grissom, that you?" "What do you want?" he almost yelled, heedless of Adam. *** As Fraser watched, Ray jumped away from the phone. Even across the room, he could hear Tom's shout. "Geez, Grandpa, I just wanted ta let ya know we got yer boyfriend at Ma's. He got some kinda poison and the hospital wouldn't even admit him. Don' worry, he's gonna be okay. He just wanted ta talk to ya." He heard a sound as Tom tried to regain some semblance of composure. "You could have handled that better, Cal!" Ray shook his head, annoyed at the suddenly very asleep Sabbat. "Sheesh." ***