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He Ran

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  • He Ran

    TITLE: He Ran.
    SETTING: Just after the events that occur in the flashback in becoming pt.1
    DISCLAIMER:I don't own anything joss & co came up with first.
    WARNING:There is a little bit of blood n guts.

    He ran, his mind a mass of confusion. He had run like this before he knew, fast and without caution, but that had been towards, after, chasing. This time he ran to get away, to escape the firelight and bright fierce cries of the gypsy camp that haunted the distance. He ran too to escape something else, something that ran with him, something that was deep inside his very core. On he plunged through the dense forest, legs aching from the effort, head buzzing as...

    He caught the young girl, whirling her round seconds before she reached the end of the alley. Her eyes widened in shock and she gasped as she caught sight of his real face. As she turned he covered her mouth with his hand and pushed her roughly against the wall. Snatches of conversation drifting from the nearby road told him that their presence was unnoticed. Good he could take his time with this one. Turning back to his prey he stroked the side of her face and gently tidied a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Noticing how she trembled under his touch, how her clear wet eyes pleaded. "ssshhhh" he whispered as his head slowly lowered to her pale throat and...

    No! That wasn't him. He couldn't have. He didn't. The memories whirled and shifted before him taunting him, mocking him as the images changed and melted. He leant heavily against a broad tree his legs suddenly not strong enough to support him. A cool night breeze rustled through the night's foliage and a faint mist of evaporated sweat rose from his hot skin. He had to think, to clear his mind. Too many thoughts crowded in on him, faces danced before his eyes, strange but hauntingly familiar. He thrust out a hand to steady himself and felt...

    The scraping of nails against his cheek as the woman made a last desperate effort to defend herself. He let the last of her blood drain into him and casually dropped the body to the expensive carpet where it lay staring lifelessly. Slowly he turned to the woman's husband cowering in the corner of the room amongst the broken furniture. Blood streamed from his nose and his leg seemed to be twisted in an unnatural way. "Please sir" the man whined "please, for the love of god, please don't kill me." Studying the man for a few seconds he advanced the few steps towards him, towering over the prone form. He lowered himself to his haunches, so close now he could feel the mans ragged breath on his face and smell his fear. "Alright, I won't" he said and turned towards the door. Just as he reached it he paused, turned his head once more towards the man and smiled softly "Oh Dru" he called...

    No! Oh no! Why was this happening to him, why was he being tormented in this way? The gypsies! Yes they had to have done this to him, to have addled his brains, to have given him these nightmare visions He slowly tried to raise himself from the forest floor not knowing how he had got there, only knowing that he must get away to flee from the pain and the confusion that welled inside him. He couldn't have done these things they were inhuman, he couldn't. Raising a hand to his face he felt a wet sting over his left eye, a cut probably from the low hanging twigs and branches that had barred his wild flight. Examining his fingers he saw the stain of blood looking almost black in the moonlight. He rubbed his finger and thumb together and felt...

    The first warm gush as his fangs sank deep into the artery. The blood seemed almost eager to be drunk so fierce was the flow. He drank greedily savouring the sweet coppery taste until finally the pressure dropped and the torrent slowed to a trickle. Lifting his head from the small corpse he surveyed the devastation he had visited on the farmhouse. A family of seven had once lived in these few rooms, barely scratching a meagre existence from the parched soil, now because they had chosen to share their simple fare with a stranger none were left to struggle on. Corpses littered the room left where they had fallen. Blood soaked the rugs and bed linen. Arterial sprays decorated the once white curtains. Wiping the last of the blood from his chin he headed out into the night where the spooked animals fussed in the barn. Perhaps there was more fun to be had this night...

    "No stop. Please stop. None of it is real, none of it, it wasn't me it, it wasn't me it.." He sank once more to the leaf strewn floor and closed his eyes tightly desperately trying to block out the sights. Rational thoughts were now beyond him His hands covered his ears to stop the sound of screaming. The faces swum in and out of his vision accusing him with dead eyes, mouthing silent curses as they changed from young to old, male to female. The sights and sound seemed to blur together getting stronger and stronger. He curled into a ball in the fallen leaves clutching his legs as the sensations overtook him, drowning him in fear and guilt and emotions he neither knew nor understood. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and long ragged sobs escaped his lips. The whirling visions came at him faster and faster, they consumed him, he felt them ripping into him as consciousness finally left him, felt them ripping into the heart of him, into the deepest core of him into...

    ...His soul
    Last edited by tangent; 14-05-07, 08:27 PM.

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