Echolls Residence - Friday Evening, a little after sunset

[psycho_jackass]

[ooc: Locked to the players already in this. It's been preplayed. OOC commentary welcome, though.]

Read this part first.

It was past sundown when Logan finally got home, and the house was dark and quiet. "Anyone home?" he called out. No one responded. Logan frowned. "Rory?" he asked. There was no answer.

Logan pulled out his cell phone and hit #2 on the speed dial. He held the phone to his ear and headed down the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom.

The sound of Rory's ringtone for Logan - Don't You (Forget About Me) - sang out, but from the direction of the study.

Turning, Logan saw Angelus sitting sideways on one of the study's chairs, one foot on the ground, the other resting on the armrest. It was the kind of casual sprawl across furniture that usually only a cat could pull off successfully.

In Angelus's hand was Rory's cellphone. He held it up to the light, examining it.

"Amazing things, these," he said as he turned the phone over in his hands. "Like magic. You could do practically anything with them."

"Pretty nifty," Logan agreed. He closed his cell phone and stuck it in his pocket. "You know what I find they're really handy for?" He walked over to the study and leaned on one of the wooden chairs, tapping his fingers on the crossbar. "Calling people. Where've you been?"

"You know the saying," Angelus grinned up at him. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Logan smiled and shrugged. His fingers tightened on the chair and he swung it at Angelus's head.

Angelus moved like a blur, standing, blocking the chair, and punching Logan right in the face in the time it would take a mortal to blink.

"Don't try me, boy," he told Logan. "I have a fine line of patience even for the ones I like. Pissing me off would be an extremely stupid thing to do right now."

The punch knocked Logan back and onto the floor. Logan wiped a bit of blood from his nose and laughed. "Oh, right, I'm sorry. Tell me, wise one, what's the smart thing to be doing right now?"

Rory could hear fuzzy voices from somewhere else in the house, almost as though she were underwater. She did recognize that sarcastic, biting laugh all too well, even through her haze.

She filled her lungs as much as she could, and called out with all the voice she possessed.

"Logan..."

Logan's face lost any hint of humor. He shot a glance at Angelus even as he scrambled to get on his feet and move towards the door.

He found Rory curled up on the bed in a white dress. He ran over to her.

"Rory," he said, kneeling on the bed next to her. "Rory, are you okay?"

Rory blinked at him. She wanted to smile. She really did. He looked so worried. But she needed to save her strength, and even smiling was going to take effort that she couldn't risk.

"Go," she whispered, turning her head slightly towards him. Her hair fell off her neck where it had been draped, revealing the bite mark. "Hurry. He'll...hurt you too."

"Oh, hell no," Logan said, scooping her into his arms. He lifted her off the bed and turned to find Angelus in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a small smile playing around his lips. "What the fuck is your deal?" Logan demanded.

"Do you know how long she has to live?" Angelus asked, conversationally. "Because I do. I've drunk and killed so many that I know to the second how much time someone of Rory's height, weight, and health has left given how much I took from her."

The grin on Angelus's lips became even more feral. "Trust me when I say you're going to want to put her down if you don't want to cut that timeline short."

"Yeah," Logan said. "Because I have every reason to trust you at this moment." His eyes flickered towards the other set of doors.

"Trust that I can break your legs before you take a single step," Angelus said, his tone just as light and conversational as before. "Put her down."

Logan licked his lips and looked at the doors again, then back at Angelus.

"Logan," Angelus folded his arms, "the longer we dick around on this very minor and inconsequential point of you trying to prove that you're the big hero, the less time Rory has to do fun things like listen to the sound of her own heartbeat. Now if you want her to live, put her back on the bed and let's talk like two old friends."

Logan nodded. He placed Rory gently down on the bed and brushed a hand gently over her forehead and hair. "Fine," he said. He held up his hands in surrender but didn't step away from the bed. "Talk."

"I'm sensing a lack of gratitude for my generosity," Angelus said. He sketched out a flow chart in the air. "Let's take a moment to understand how this works. I'm in charge, you're not, and right now every breath you take is because I'm just that swell of a guy. But make no mistake, Logan. By the time this conversation is over you won't be breathing at all. The question is, will you still be alive to enjoy it?"

Logan raised his eyebrows. "Gosh," he said. "Aren't I lucky to have a friend like you?"

"Oh, right," Angelus pushed himself away from the doorway, walking slowly into the room as he spoke. "Because it's my fault that you started hanging out with the vampire. And I'm the one who made you start thinking thoughts about what it'd be like to drink and kill."

Angelus looked directly into Logan's eyes. "You were the purest of the pure, without a single naughty twitch that all but begged for the attention of a bastard like me."

Logan stood his ground. "I never claimed to be Sir Galahad," Logan said. "But I don't kill little girls."

"So why do you want me so badly?" Angelus came closer still, his eyes never wavering from Logan's. "Why are you standing here, listening to me tell you these horrible things that you swear you want no part of? You know what I'm offering and yet I haven't heard anything from your lips that sounds like 'no'."

"Then why are you still talking?" Logan asked, matching Angelus's gaze. "I want it. You want it. Come and get it."

"Say please."

Logan stuffed his hands in his pockets and tilted his neck towards Angelus. "Please," he said softly.

"No," Rory croaked weakly, her breathing shallow and ragged. She was trying to focus, and could have sworn Logan was giving in.

"Gosh," Angelus pitched his voice into a mocking cadence, "this is so touching and dramatic I just might vomit. What's it going to be, Logan? The lady or the tiger?"

Logan snorted. "You're complaining about dramatics now? You, with the lurking in shadows and the bad monologues? Please.

"If you really want me, Tiger, come and get me," Logan said with a cold and steady tone. "If not, then stop jerking me around and get the fuck out of my house."

"Ooo, bad news, Rory," Angelus said in an obscene parody of regret and sympathy. "Logan doesn't like you very much. Hear that? He's begging me to kill you. Slowly. After he watches while I rape you in every possible way and - " he laughed " - believe me, I know a lot. Or maybe I misread this situation - " he gave Logan a slow and intimate smile. "Maybe our pal Logan just wants to watch while I turn you instead."

Logan paled. "No," he said, his voice wavering a little. He swallowed, and added in a firmer tone, "This is you and me. I'll do whatever you want, but you will leave her out of it."

"There's the can-do attitude I've been looking for," Angelus beamed at him. "Glad we've found our rapport. Now beg."

"Fuck you."

"I don't bottom," Angelus replied, aiming a punch at Logan's face with the speed of a cobra's strike.

Bone crunched as fist connected with nose. Logan stumbled backwards and fell against the entertainment center. "Thought you were open to new experiences," he said, pulling himself to his feet.

"I am," Angelus spread his arms wide, indicating their situation. "Never killed a famous person before. Of course you're not so much famous as you are the sad little boy who's depressed that daddy's too busy being a psychopath to give you any attention, but small steps. I do so enjoy foreplay."

"If you're looking for invites to the big Hollywood parties, I hate to tell you, but I'm not on anyone's list these days," Logan said with a regretful smile.

"You don't think big," Angelus agreed. "Still, we can fix that. Move you away from the bum fights and the wimping out in front of Dad and get you into the major leagues like you so desperately want to be."

"And what do you get out of the deal?" Logan asked. "Ten percent of all the blood I drink?"

Angelus looked genuinely bewildered. "I get to help you, Logan. I get to take all that wonderful potential and set it free. I don't make mindless minions. I make art. And you, my friend, have been a very enticing muse."

"Ah," Logan nodded. "I think managers are getting fifteen percent these days."

"Focus on the bigger picture," Angelus said, ignoring the quip as he circled Logan. "Imagine what I'm talking about. No regrets. No worries. No needing to ask yourself if you're doing the right thing. Always knowing the answer. Always being able to do what you wanted to do. Always being able to reach out and take whatever it was that you longed for and make it your own.

"Or," Angelus shrugged as he came to a stop in front of Logan, "we can skip all that faggoty Anne Rice crap and cut right to the part where blood tastes like murder and murder tastes damn good."

Logan leaned back against the entertainment center, hands behind his back. He chewed at his lower lip. "No guilt?" he asked finally.

"No guilt," Angelus confirmed, watching him carefully. "No doubt. No pain."

Logan thrust his hand into the cabinet behind him and wrapped his fingers around the crucifix hidden there. "Sounds dull," he said, and swung the crucifix at Angelus.

Angelus was immediately within Logan's personal space, halting the swing of the cross by blocking Logan's arm with his hand.

"Funny thing about being over two hundred," Angelus grabbed Logan by the throat, not choking him, but holding him still. "Means I wasn't born yesterday."

Logan slammed his left foot into the side of Angelus's knee. The vampire snarled and released his grip.

Logan grabbed a handful of Angelus's black silk shirt with his left hand and attempted to pull him closer, the crucifix still waiting in his right.

There was the sound of popping as Logan's grip, made strong by a body humming with a fight or flight reflex, tore the buttons off of Angelus's shirt. Angelus laughed. He took Logan by the shoulders and slammed him back against the entertainment center, pressing in to hold him in place.

"Why Logan," Angelus cooed, "if I'd known you swung that way we could've started this whole thing with you on your knees."

Logan brought his right hand up and shoved the crucifix against Angelus's exposed chest. "Blow me," he said.

There was a sizzle, and smoke, and a cry of pain as Angelus's flesh burned and made the cross stick to him in spite of his shuddering.

Instinct guided him to knock Logan down to the floor, taking the cross with him.

"That," Angelus said, his skin still smoking from where the cross had left a vivid T-shaped burn on his chest, "is going to cost you."

"Do you take American Express?" Logan let the cross fall to the floor as he dove for the desk. He drew a gun from the top drawer, pivoted around and fired five shots into Angelus's chest in rapid succession.

Angelus stumbled backward as each shot tore through him, leaving stars of blood in their wake. The last shot hit him directly in the heart. A look of surprise crossed Angelus's face before he fell to the floor.

He lay there, still, his arms and legs akimbo and his body truly resembling that of a corpse

Logan let out a slow breath. Holding the gun in front of him with both hands, he inched forward carefully, his eyes not leaving Angelus.

He crossed over the vampire's legs, stood with his legs straddling Angelus's chest and pointed the gun at Angelus's forehead. He took a deep breath. The finger on the trigger tightened.

Like a lightening strike Angelus grabbed Logan's hand before he could fire.

"You guys fall for that every time," Angelus laughed. Logan had time enough to see the grin of pure glee before Angelus yanked on Logan's arm, kicked, and sent him sailing directly through the plate glass windows that lead to the terrace.

Logan instinctively threw his arms over his face as he flew through the glass. He cried out as he landed on his left arm with a crack of breaking bone.

Logan rolled over onto his back, bleeding from a hundred tiny cuts. He threw back his head and laughed. "Point to you," he said. "Not my best move ever."

"Nonsense," Angelus picked his way through the rubble, moving as though he had all the time in the world and not a concern to bother him. "You were great. I felt the earth move. Honest."

Angelus stopped as he stood over Logan. He game faced, looking down at him with golden eyes. "Now it's my turn for fun."

Logan shuddered involuntarily. He used his good arm to try and prop himself up to a sitting position. "So," he said. "Shall I call for some booze and hookers? Or were you thinking a few hands of poker, maybe a little Parcheesi?"

"Even better," Angelus crouched down to be at eye level with Logan. "It's a little game I like to call 'Heads I win, tails you lose.'"

A shovel sat less than a foot away from Logan's right hand. He kept his eyes on Angelus and made a grab for it.

"Oh no," Angelus's hand shot out to hold him down. He gave Logan a chastising look. "Patience, kiddo. Spanking comes later. First is the kiss."

Logan's heart pounded against Angelus's hand. He struggled to move, but the vampire held him firmly.

Logan closed his eyes in defeat, then opened them and looked Angelus in the eyes. "Let me go," he said quietly, and added, "Please."

"Oo, we're up to that part already?" Angelus patted Logan's chest with delighted approval. "Great. Couple of ground rules: crying's nice, sniveling's kind of a turn off. Whimpering I'm neutral with. And anything that sounds like you shouting, screaming, and especially saying 'No, no, please stop' is just going to get me hot like you wouldn't believe. So go nuts."

"'No, no, please stop, Mr. Evil Vampire,'" Logan said in a mocking tone. "How's that? Good for you?"

"Hmm, somebody doesn't have his motivation," Angelus moved his hand up to caress Logan's neck. "Don't worry, I'll help you find it."

Angelus bent down to bring his fangs close to Logan's skin. Before he could make contact he whispered "Just remember, there was never a damned thing you could have ever done to stop me."

With that he sank his teeth in.

"Fuck!" Logan gasped as the fangs tore into his throat. He grabbed Angelus's neck with his good hand and tried to pry the vampire off.

Angelus was as impossible to move as a statue. His grip was firm, steady. His bite was sharp and undeniable.

This wasn't like the attack on Rory though. It was cruel, certainly, but Angelus knew full well there were ways to be cruel that didn't have to involve pain.

In point of fact, it could be even worse when they didn't.

Logan gave up the struggle and let his hand drop. Closed his eyes. Tried to breathe; tried to focus.

You wanted this, said a taunting little voice in the back of his head. His voice.

No, he thought.

Liar.

Not like this, he thought.

What did you expect? Candlelight and roses? Vam. Pire. Evil, remember? You've been wanting this for weeks, so just relax and enjoy it. This part'll be over soon, anyway.

Logan shuddered.

Angelus gave a low rumble which was the best he could do for a laugh while his teeth were still firmly in Logan's neck.

Even with the appetizer of Rory's blood within him, Logan did not disappoint. After weeks of waiting Angelus was tasting everything he'd hoped for: fear, despair, pain, misery, the oh so intoxicating tang of betrayal, and underneath it all that faint undercurrent of pleasure that no mortal could deny.

They all wanted death in the end. The only question was if any of them were worthy enough to receive it.

Or, in Logan's case, to be trapped inside of it for all eternity.

Angelus laughed again. Sometimes it was all so perfect even he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

There are worse ways to die, thought Logan, though none came to mind at that moment. His arm throbbed in pain, but that didn't matter anymore, did it? No more pain, guilt or fear.

He wondered if vampires minded betrayal.

They were halfway there. Angelus could tell. He knew the sound of a mortal's heartbeat as it neared that crucial bend between wanting to live and giving in to the seductive call of true surrender. Logan wasn't quite there yet. He still had a spark of fight within him.

Frankly, it made his blood taste that much sweeter.

Angelus increased the pressure. Now was the time to take over the command of the body itself, to make Logan's own pulse beat to Angelus's needs and desires and -

A flash of cold shot through him.

Angelus reared back, feeling the entire world around him tilt and sway. Muscles spasmed entirely out of his control. He thrashed, throwing himself so hard that he slammed into the wall of the house. His ridges and fangs vanished with the shock.

Still the feeling continued. It was like a pressure building inside of him, grabbing control of him right at the core of his very being and -

"No, no, no, no, no!" Angelus clawed his way to his hands and knees. He punched his fist into the ground as though it was responsible for what was happening. "No! Not now! Not when I was just starting to have fun, God damn it!"

Too late. The feeling inside of him grew. It was pain, agony, misery -

Guilt.

Angelus screamed as his eyes glowed with inner fire and the soul was forced into him.

Logan stared, wide-eyed, as Angelus thrashed around.

Another trick, he thought, his heart pounding. Still, any chance was better than none. He snaked his arm out and wrapped his fingers around the handle of the nearby shovel.

When Angelus didn't stop him, he hauled himself up to his feet and gripped his weapon, waiting for an opening.

The first rush of agony ebbed, promising more to follow as they always did. The world faded from black to distant forms of color. Sights, sounds - everything was chaos. Confusion. It was as though his mind comprehended everything and nothing at the exact same time.

Next came the memories. Next was always the memories. But first, in that one brief moment of torturous calm before madness descended, was a flash of lucidity.

Angel looked up, his face a picture of childlike bewilderment as his brown eyes sought out the only other person who was near.

Softly, as though he himself wasn't certain of the answer, he whispered, "Logan?"

Logan caught the vampire full in the face with the blade of the shovel.

Angel's ears rang out as the shovel connected. He fell onto the floor, unable to defend himself.

As he did he felt the madness come. The memories. Faces of those long gone raced through his mind, one right after the other, and each one bringing with it the full on sensation of agony that he'd doled out with his own two hands.

It was more than he could stand. His mind gone, his body took over. Instinct alone made him stagger to his feet, then brush past Logan as though he couldn't see him, or had even forgotten he was there.

Angel ran off into the night, utterly oblivious to anything except the horrors that his soul played out for him again and again, with no promise of stopping for as long as he lived.

Logan stumbled back into the room, using the shovel to help himself stay upright. Trick or no, he wasn't wasting this time.

"Rory," he whispered. He lifted his left hand to touch her face and let out a small cry as the broken bones ground together. Placing the shovel down nearby, he caressed her cheek with his right hand instead. "Hey, Rory. Talk to me, baby."

Her eyes flickered.

"Please be okay," Logan breathed. "Please, Rory. Look at me." He turned her face towards him, but she didn't respond.

Logan sank to the floor and leaned against the bed, prying his phone from his pocket as tears ran down his cheeks.

Logan continued here.
Angel continued here.