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not-a-space-alien · 2 years

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Hi, everyone! I'm back with another piece of fanfiction for @whumpsday's characters Jim and Kane. (You can read my first one I wrote here.) This one is an expansion of this anon (written with permission.)

Same as last one: The needed background for this piece of writing is that Kane, a vampire, took Jim captive for years to feed on his blood. Jim escaped eventually, and Kane was later captured and brutally tortured by vampire hunters for the same amount of time (delicious irony and poetic justice.) Jim heard about this and asked the vampire hunters to give Kane to him, planning to kill him and get closure, but Jim ended up feeling too bad for Kane to hurt him (Jim is too much of a softie for his own good). So now they’re just sort of in this awkward place where reformed Kane is living locked in Jim’s basement and they’re both bogged down by horrible PTSD that the other keeps triggering.

This ficlet is rated M because it has graphic descriptions of gore and violence. The linked story that this is fanfiction of is also very graphic and may be distasteful to some readers, so please use your best judgement and mind the tags and CW’s.

“Wake up.”

Jim had felt this feeling before. Very, very rarely. Because Kane was not capable of persuasion, so he’d only ever felt it when a different vampire had used it on him.

He hadn’t missed it.

His eyes flew open, feeling some ominous, overwhelming presence completely consuming him, overriding his very will. It was by far the worst way he’d ever woken up, and he’d previously woken up to Kane feeding on his neck.

“Stay still. Don’t scream.”

It was called mind-control, but really it would be more accurate to describe it as body-control. Jim was locked in his own body, unable to do anything except follow the directions from the voice.

“Stand up.” Jim’s feet swung off the side of the bed without his permission, pivoting him towards the window.

It was night out, and in front of the backdrop of stars standing in front of the open window was a cruel figure. It was a vampire he had never seen before.

A vampire he’d never seen before had come into his bedroom at home, in the middle of the night, in the middle of human territory. Dread dropped into the pit of Jim’s stomach, almost making him throw up. He wasn’t safe, not even here, where he should by all accounts be safe. He was doomed to be hunted, dehumanized, used for his body until he was broken and thrown out like trash. If he couldn’t escape that fate even here, what hope did he have?

Tears welled in his eyes.

“Good,” said the vampire. “Yes, just what I’d hoped for.” The vampire moved closer and drew one claw over Jim’s cheek, wiping the tear. “You must be wondering what I’m here for.”

Wondering was a strong word for Jim’s thoughts. He’d thought it would be pretty self-explanatory.

The vampire put a hand to his chest. “I like a challenge, you see. And I learned recently that you’re somewhat famous in the human world. There’s a book about you and everything. Because you’re apparently impossible to contain.”

More tears slid down Jim’s cheeks. He imagined this vampire reading that stupid book, reading the passages about his imprisonment and feeling not pity or horror, but challenged to do more. It sent a shudder up his spine, like he’d been violated by this creature already in a way he couldn’t describe.

“So that’s why I came all the way out here to find you,” the vampire whispered. “I think a proper vampire, one with persuasion, could break you.”

“No,” said Jim, his body now trembling like a leaf. “Please… I c-can’t go back there.”

“You can, and you will. I caught you fare and square, so you’re mine now.”

“F-fuck off,” said Jim. He could only speak quietly, because the persuasion kept him from screaming, but not speaking entirely.

He wanted to scream though. Whatever accursed mechanism that persuasion used kept the sound caught in his throat, choking him. He wept. He hadn’t managed to sound threatening at all.

“But first,” said the new vampire, “before I whisk you away, I’m going to feed on you. Right here, in your home, where you thought you were safe. Just so you remember how it will always end. You can think you’re sleeping safe and sound at home, miles and miles away, and someone will feed on you. You exist for my benefit. Now kneel down and tilt your head.”

Jim had no choice but to obey; his body did the motions for him as he whimpered and bit his lip. “Don’t,” was all he managed to say, eyes glazing over, going somewhere else mentally, regressing.

The vampire brushed Jim’s hair aside, caressing his neck. “Oh, so much scar tissue. It’ll make your skin so tough and unpleasant. But no matter. I see your previous owner favored the right jugular. I’ll simply take from the left subclavian. Your skin is still nice and tender there.”

Jim’s chest heaved as the vampire’s talons slid the shoulder of his shirt down. He opened his mouth and pleaded, his voice as loud as he could physically make it with the persuasion cutting off anything considered a scream. “Kane.” He tried to scream, but it came out more like a dying plea. “Kane, help me, please.”

He wasn’t calling to the vampire locked in his basement, the one he clapped ankle cuffs onto each morning to let him come up and watch TV. He was calling to a person who didn’t exist anymore, Kane de Sang, the fickle, violent vampire who considered himself Jim’s owner, the instinctual calling based on the reassurance that Kane could at least be relied upon to shoo others away from his property and his food. Kane would tell this newcomer to leave not because he cared about Jim’s pain, but because he did care about being stolen from.

“You’re more well trained than I thought,” purred the newcomer. “Still calling for your old master. Adorable.”

He bit down, not on the side of his neck but on the top his shoulder, in the crook of his neck. The chronic pain and nightmares Jim had about his neck had convinced him to only ever worry about his jugular, but this was so much worse. It was deeper, the flesh tender and unscarred, and it felt like this sadistic new vampire had stuck a drinking straw straight into his very heart.

He sobbed, wailing as loudly as he physically could, which the vampire seemed to like. “You have such cute moans.”

Jim’s head was spinning and his grip on his surroundings was fading, but he heard something downstairs faintly: a heavy, meaty thump, like a piece of meat being thrown against a wall.

“Please don’t,” Jim wept. “I can’t—I can’t—not again—not again.”

His body shook again as the vampire lapped at the ragged wound, drawing out his blood—much more than he remembered Kane taking, more than he gave Kane willingly. “Don’t be silly, you’re doing fine—and we’re only just getting started.”

There was another thunk from downstairs, followed by another, more frantic. The vampire seemed to hear it this time, too, and pulled his head up, blood-drenched maw turned in a frown.

“Kane,” said Jim. “P-please help, please help me, please stop him.”

There was an ear-shattering sound from downstairs, the squealing of metal groaning and ripping, and something enormously heavy falling flat on the ground.

“Don’t move,” the new vampire growled into Jim’s ear. He stood, wiping his face. “What the hell was that?”

Jim sobbed, eyes fixed on the door.

There was the sound of be-socked feet very rapidly pattering across the carpet downstairs, up the stairs—crossing the distance almost in the blink of an eye.

Kane swung into the bedroom door, out of breath. Fresh burn marks—so fresh that some of them were still smoking, in fact—were scattered on his face and arms.

Jim’s scrambled brain snapped back into the present, slamming him back into his body. “Kane,” he wailed in a strained voice. “P-please.”

Kane’s wide, feral eyes snapped down to Jim. A thrill of fear surged through the human, the human on the floor between two vampires, a situation which surely ended in the human being torn in half and devoured every time.

Kane’s eyes slid from Jim up to the bloody vampire, who was still licking his lips. “Ah…” said the new vampire. “I-I didn’t realize this human was—”

Kane cut him off. There was no stoic speech, no impassioned ranting, no threats, no trying to intimidate the interloper. There was only primal, bestial, uncontrollable anger.

Kane drew his lip back, exposing his fangs, eyes burning with incomprehensible madness as he lunged at the other vampire like a jaguar striking. His hands extended into claws, which sunk into the other vampire’s shoulder meat, drawing blood instantly and sending them both tumbling to the floor.

It was like a cat fight, except both combatants had the ability to crush concrete with their bare hands. Blood spattered the wall in a pressurized spray, the floor cracked beneath them, the snarling and cursing vibrated glass and shattered the windows.

Kane garnered an impressive collection of injuries in a matter of seconds, flesh on his arms shredded to ribbons, but he didn’t seem to notice, that wild-eyed expression never leaving his face. His lip stayed curled up as he grunted and growled wordlessly with each blow.

Kane had never been a particularly strong or meaty vampire, but he had one crucial advantage in this fight: he was fighting for something he cared about much, much, much more than the other one did. The interloper threw Kane off and turned to lunge out the window, apparently having had enough, but Kane used the opportunity to sink his fingers into his opponent’s throat, slammed him backwards into the ground, splitting the wood of the floor, and ruthlessly jammed his thumbs into his eye sockets.

The other vampire screamed. “I yield! I yield!”

Kane opened wide and bit through his opponent’s windpipe. He growled savagely as he sunk his teeth in deeper and deeper. As his opponent gave a gargled plea, Kane grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched his head around, then drew back and lunged again, forcing his teeth in as far as they would go.

With a final shout, Kane twisted and snapped the other vampire’s head clean off, the ragged flesh spattering with the motion. He sat there over the decapitated body, chest heaving, blood soaking his entire front, severed head still gripped by the hair in one hand. Kane’s eyes wildly wheeled about the room, and he took a few steadying breaths, coming down after a few seconds.

His terrifying red eyes came up and met Jim’s gaze. Jim was still kneeling on the floor, having watched this entire series of events with a horrified expression.

“Jim,” said Kane, voice already scratchy from screaming. He let the head roll out of his hand and thunk to the floor.

“P-please,” Jim said, body starting to shake again. “Please, K-kane, please please.”

Kane, still hunkered down, crawled across the floor, limbs trembling from exertion and adrenaline. Kane reached out one gore-strewn hand towards Jim, and the human, finding his limbs suddenly functional again, scrambled back, blubbering and sputtering incoherent pleas.

“Jim, are you okay?” Kane’s head was starting to spin, bogged down by exhaustion and shock from what he’d just done. He’d never done anything like that before, ever. He hadn't thought he could.

He wouldn’t have guessed he could get past the silver-lined basement door. The door itself he couldn’t get through, but it turned out that he could snap the reinforced iron hinges completely off by throwing himself at it hard enough. And he hadn’t had the motivation to try that until recently, when he’d heard Jim calling him for help, guessing what was somehow happening based on the sounds. He'd thought it a fruitless endeavor, but he had to try, he had to do something when he heard Jim in pain and danger.

Jim. The fountain of every good thing Kane had experienced in years, the source of endless kindness and mercy when none was deserved or expected. The only person Kane suddenly found it intolerable to think of losing.

Kane’s new life only had two goals, which were: Keep away from the hunters, and help Jim. He’d had no idea how strong that second one had burned inside him until he’d heard Jim’s pitiful cries.

Jim didn’t deserve any bad thing to happen to him, but he especially didn’t deserve to be fed on by a vampire. Nobody would hurt Jim ever again, not Kane, not anybody. Maybe it could make even a single step of progress towards ever repaying Jim to make sure of that. Kane loved him more than he loved his own family.

Jim scrambled away from Kane, huddled in the corner of the room. “Don’t,” he whispered, horrified. The gore, the scene in front of him was a violent reminder that this creature he’d brought into his house could snap him in half at any time, and his brain was currently swimming in visions of all the times Kane had used that strength for purposes less noble than protecting him.

Still on his hands and knees, utterly beaten and exhausted, Kane crawled forward, painting the floor beneath him with a smear of blood. “Jim—Jim, let me help you.”

Tears streaked down Jim’s cheeks. “Kane, please—Please don’t hurt me.”

Kane heaved a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I won’t hurt you. Are you—are you hurt?”

“Don’t feed on me,” said Jim, his voice small, the voice of someone more defenseless from a long time ago. “I’ll die. I’ll die if you take more. Kane. Don’t kill me.”

Kane finally dragged himself up to Jim’s side, and the human flinched away from him. Kane put a gentle hand on Jim’s elbow. “Let—let me help you.”

Jim stared at him with wide, scared eyes. Kane suppressed a guilty, overwhelmed noise as he tried to wipe the blood off his face, but only succeeded in smearing it everywhere. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kane slowly moved his hand to Jim’s injury, which was still disgorging blood at an alarming rate. “Let me lick this to close it.” Vampire saliva had a special property that accelerated the healing of wounds it was used to seal. He’d offered this service to Jim once before, but the human had turned it down in a panicked manner. But Jim clearly needed it this time.

Kane held the remnants of Jim’s torn pajama shirt to the side and leaned in. “No,” said Jim with a sob. “Don’t, don’t feed on me. I’ll die. Please, Kane. Please.”

“I’m not feeding on you,” said Kane, on the verge of tears. “I promise. I promise. I’m helping you. I’m sealing the wound. I’m not taking any blood.”

Kane flattened his tongue over the ragged wound and gently, in one smooth motion swiped it up the length of both puncture marks. The wound immediately looked a little bit better, the trickle of blood ceasing.

Oh, but that left Kane with a delicious, delicious mouthful of Jim’s blood. He wanted so badly to swallow it. It wouldn’t hurt anything. It was blood Jim had already shed. It would just go to waste.

But Jim was crying and begging, and Kane had promised he wouldn’t feed on him. He knew better now, that he could never, ever, ever feed on anyone unless they told him explicitly that it was okay.

It was so, so hard, it pained him so much, but he leaned over and spit the mouthful of blood out, ropes of pink saliva stringing down to the ground.

“There,” said Kane, wiping his mouth. “See?”

Still huddling, Jim stared at him. His consciousness seemed to be ebbing, both from blood loss and shock. Kane leaned Jim onto his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

Jim wobbled.

“Where’s your phone?”

---

“I need you to drive Jim to the hospital.”

That was all the words Kane had to get out before Liz was putting on her jacket and out the door.

I swear to God. You fucking monster. If you’ve hurt him. If you hurt my brother.

She made the drive in twenty minutes when it normally took thirty. She slammed the car into the driveway, barely remembering to turn it off before hauling ass up onto the porch and nearly breaking the door down.

Kane and Jim were both sitting on the living room couch. All Liz could see instantly was red, both red in her vision from anger and the red all over both of the men’s shirts. Jim had two distinctive, telltale puncture marks above his clavicle. Kane had blood smeared all over his face. And behind them, the supposedly vampire-proof door to the basement lay detached on the floor, metal that had kept it fastened to the wall twisted and broken.

Kane stood up as Liz entered. “Liz, there was another vamp—”

He is not, Liz thought. He is not going to try and claim there was another vampire. He does not expect me to believe some other vampire broke out of the basement and attacked Jim.

Liz stopped him mid-sentence by drawing her gun and firing three silver-lined bullets into Kane’s chest, sending him tumbling backwards. He stumbled over the couch, accidentally flipping over the back, legs up in the air, body broken and twisted, neck bent awkwardly as he hit the floor.

“You fucker,” Liz growled. “I’ll deal with you later.”

She kicked Kane’s leg off the back of the couch and leaned over Jim. He’d appeared to have fallen unconscious, but he was breathing.

“I’ve got you,” Liz breathed. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

She slung Jim’s arm over her shoulder and dragged him out, down the steps into her car, smearing drying blood all over her upholstery. She buckled Jim in and shut and locked the door. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you worry.”

Liz stomped back into the house, coming around, gaze burning into Kane. “You’re done, fucker,” she snarled. “You’re done.”

Kane struggled to right himself, torn body convulsing and twitching around the silver bullets. Fresh blood poured from his mouth as he tried to speak.

I can’t believe I forgot a stake, Liz thought. She’d come all the way here to kill Kane, and hadn’t brought a stake.

Well, no matter. She knew Jim kept some in his bedroom. She walked over to Kane and rolled him over with her foot, planting her boot on his chest. She cocked the gun and aimed it right between Kane’s watery, pleading eyes. He spat up more blood and writhed.

The final silver bullet spattered his brains on the floor under him. Liz suppressed her disgust, both at the gore and at Kane’s betrayal. Poor Jim, too soft for his own good, took pity on this monster, and this was the thanks he got?

Well, no matter. Liz was about to end this once and for all, permanently. A silver bullet to the head would stop a vampire for a while as their head reformed, but a stake to the heart would make sure they never rose again. She just had to go upstairs and get one.

She climbed the stairs, noting more blood, the trail widening as it led back to the bedroom. She came around the corner and stepped into a bedroom that looked like a crime scene.

Oh.

---

It was the second time Jim had woken up in the hospital after suffering at the hands of vampires. It was an experience he hoped he could stop repeating. The ache rolled over him as soon as he was awake to feel it, the pain in his neck and his shoulder. But under it was the prickle of IVs and bandages and the numbness from pain meds.

He was okay. He got ahold of his breath before it got away from him. He was okay. He was in a human hospital.

“Hey,” said Liz’s voice softly.

His eyes fluttered open, and he tiredly looked to see Liz sitting next to him. A wide smile spread across her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Jim coughed. “Thanks for getting me here. I thought maybe this was gonna be it. How do I look?”

“Like shit,” said Liz. “And when I brought you to the emergency room, the doctors said ‘Wow, this guy seems like shit.’”

“Ha-ha,” said Jim. He sat up muzzily. “What—Oh, where’s Kane?”

Liz bit her lip. “Um, about that…Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“It’s—it’s fuzzy,” said Jim. “But a vampire I’ve never seen before came into my room…and Kane…I don’t know how he got out of the basement, but he killed it.”

“Goddamn it,” said Liz, face growing red. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“What? Is that bad? Why?”

“Because now I have to apologize.”

---

Kane’s head was throbbing when he woke up. This was a natural consequence of being shot.

His torso was, too. He could feel pinpricks of burning in his core. The bullet in his brain had apparently gone clean through and not lodged in his head, but apparently he wasn’t so lucky with the ones in his gut. He felt one lodged in his left lung, one sitting in a cracked rib, and the third one just barely grazing his liver. His vampiric flesh had slithered on over to close the bullet wounds around the bullets.

As his consciousness started to return in earnest, he made a movement to try and take action to remove the bullets before they were in there for too long. The silver hurt with every motion, every breath, every heartbeat, like three shards of glass inside of him.

But his hands didn’t budge. Neither did his legs. He craned his neck to look back. His arms were stretched out behind him, locked to his ankles in a hogtie

Dread lanced through him. Liz had been the last thing he remembered, and of course she wouldn’t leave him unbound or unconfined. And since the basement door was gone, she would have to cuff him. And of course, in the absence of anything sturdy enough to lock the cuffs to, the silver cuffs could only be secured to themselves to keep him immobile.

Kane pulled at the restraints, worming around, hissing in pain as the silver bullets rubbed against his insides. He let out a pathetic whimper.

He made some attempt to roll over and succeeded somewhat. He was on the concrete floor of the basement, at the bottom of the stairs. It sort of looked like Liz had just cuffed him together and tossed him down the stairs.

No, no, no, thought Kane wriggling growing in intensity. No, please, not this. The hunters weren’t here, but this was exactly like something they would inflict on him, to wedge silver bullets into his chest, cuff him, and toss him down the stairs, with no idea of when he might be released or get some help.

Kane slowly lowered his forehead to the concrete, breath quickening. Where was Jim? Liz had taken him to the hospital, surely?

Yes, surely. Liz would make sure he got to the hospital. He imagined Jim waking up surrounded by people helping him and caring about him and lessening his pain. Jim deserved it. Kane knew he deserved to wake up the opposite way, scared, alone, pain throbbing all over him with no way to help himself or get better. He knew he didn’t deserve anything better, but he still let himself cry about it. There was no one here to see him, after all. He allowed himself a moment of self-pity. His pain still hurt, no matter how much he deserved it.

He rolled back over, pulling at the restraints again, gritting his teeth at the pain from the bullets. No, no, this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be right. Jim wouldn’t torture him. Jim wouldn’t let him be tortured. He let out a frustrated wail, laying his head down and indulging in a terrified cry, rocking. No, no, no. Not back to this. Not back to endless pain and lying on a cement floor.

“Hello? Kane?”

His head snapped up as he heard a woman’s voice upstairs. Liz. Fear surged through him again—the huntress. She’d restrained him. She’d shot him, and then restrained him, and then left him here. Why? Why hadn’t she killed him? She'd probably killed the other vampire, right? Finished him off with a stake to the heart?

Why hadn’t she killed him? He let out a fearful sob. No, no, no, not Liz. Liz thought torture was sick, too. Liz was above that. Right?

Liz appeared in the doorway at the top of the stairs. Kane tried to control his breathing and failed, kneading the air with his cuffed hands as he hyperventilated.

Liz delicately descended the stairs, eyes locked onto him. He had to look away after a few seconds, out of fear.

“Hi,” said Liz, with an audible grimace.

Kane’s chest heaved in panicked breaths, each one hurting more than the last as the bullet fell deeper into his organs. He opened his mouth to say something, but a jolt of even more intense pain cracked through him as he did so, leaving him breathless.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” said Liz. “Just listen.”

Kane tried to talk again, breath hitching in his throat as the bullet burned its hole there, entire torso feeling like it was on fire.

“I’m not going to apologize to you,” said Liz. “Ever. For anything. But…I will thank you. Thank you for protecting Jim. And I will say…I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, and I shouldn’t have shot you before hearing you out.”

Kane was barely listening. Tears of pain welled in his eyes. He tried to lay as still as possible, but it didn’t alleviate the growing pain.

She sighed, seeming not to notice. “I know it’s kind of shitty to tie you up like that, but I didn’t have many options. There’s nothing to tie you to, and I…well, I didn’t feel comfortable with you being able to move around with nobody home, you know? You can’t run with the ankle cuffs on, but you can certainly walk out the door. I had horror visions of you waking up and just walking out the door. I’m sure you understand.”

Kane gave up and started to writhe again, hoping that maybe it would draw Liz’s attention to his predicament.

“Well?” said Liz. “Say something. Jim is fine by the way. Not that you asked.”

Desperation growing, unable to cope with the idea that she might leave him like this without realizing, he used what little strength he had remaining to rear back slightly and slam his torso into the ground, hoping to dislodge something. He felt all three bullets rattling, settling into new positions. Two of them lessened the pain, but the one in his lung definitely got worse. He cried out, raking yet more pain through his body and spitting up fresh blood.

“Kane?” said Liz. “Can you not…Oh fuck. The bullets.”

Yes, yes, god yes, please, the bullets, the bullets.

“I’ll get them out.”

No! No! Let me do it! He shook his head, desperately hoping it wouldn’t be interpreted as leave them in.

“Fuck,” said Liz, sounding like she was giving a second thought to her I won’t apologize to you for anything, ever stance. She knelt down, withdrawing a silver key. “Don’t try anything.”

As soon as she unlocked the handcuffs, Kane rolled over, silver-laden lungs crunching at the effort of trying to supply his activities with oxygen around the intrusion.

“You’re not going to—” said Liz as he curled his hand around his chest, doing exactly what she was afraid he was about to do.

He plunged his hand into his chest, tearing the skin and muscle away, desperately clawing at it and re-opening the mostly-healed bullet wounds. His fingers sunk in deep until he felt them burn on the tip of a lump of silver, which he grabbed and tore out, tossing it onto the ground.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, lungs still full of holes. Liz looked like she wanted to offer to help, but had no idea how.

The other two bullets were easier to get out. They tinkled to the floor, silver pips covered with blood. Kane lay there gasping, but slowly recovering. He lowered himself back to the floor, groaning.

“Did you get them all out?” said Liz.

He nodded breathlessly.

“Well…Jim’s supposed to come back from the hospital tomorrow.” She shuffled uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I trust…if…”

Kane wordlessly extended his wrists out to be re-cuffed.

Liz knelt and tightened a cuff around one wrist, then brought it behind his back to attach it to the other. It was behind his back, but at least she hadn’t re-done the hogtie.

“Don’t try anything,” said Liz, climbing back up the stairs. “I’m going to come back and check on you later.”

Where could I even go? Kane thought.

---

Jim was back the next day as promised. Jim was back. Safety was back.

He was a little unsteady on his feet still, but Liz was there to help him. She supported him as he sat in the easy chair.

Kane was in the corner of the basement, not having worked up the energy nor the courage to climb the stairs in Jim’s absence. But he lifted his head at the sounds from upstairs, Liz and Jim murmuring to each other.

“Kane?” said Jim’s voice. “Can you come upstairs, please?”

Wow, that was a good question. Could he? He used the wall to support himself, inching his way up with his chest on the wall, legs wobbling underneath of him.

He deserved this. Jim deserved to have Liz help him get around, and Kane deserved to have no one help him. But that didn’t make it hurt him less.

With some effort, Kane managed to climb the stairs. He was a bit unsteady on his feet as well, but with his hands behind his back, he could hardly use the railing.

He came up. Jim was in the easy chair with Liz on the couch.

“Hi,” said Kane hoarsely.

“I think you can take those off now, don’t you, Liz?” said Jim.

“Fine.” Liz came over and uncuffed Kane’s wrists. Kane sighed gratefully and sat down on the floor across from Jim, not wanting to be near Liz on the couch and wanting to be facing Jim.

“I should thank you,” said Jim, after a moment of smiling at him. “Both for saving my life, but also for…” His chest rattled with chuckles. “For not taking the fucking door off the basement to maul me, since apparently you could have done that any time you wanted to.”

Kane was stunned. He hunched slightly, hands on his legs. “Jim, I…I didn’t think I could do that before. Couldn’t have done that.”

“If I hadn’t fed you, you mean?”

“No, if—if you hadn’t been in danger.”

Jim stared at him, brow furrowed together. “Me being in danger gave you the strength to break down a silver-lined door?”

Kane drew his legs around himself. “I-I had to help you.”

“Why?” said Liz, narrowing her eyes.

He drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. “I—I—I know I can’t ever make up for what I did, but maybe, maybe if I can keep Jim safe, it could be a start at least. Keep him safe—he doesn’t deserve to be hurt by anyone ever again. Jim, you’re—you’re so, so kind.”

Jim stared at him. “Damn, I…”

Kane stiffened. “I’m sorry—if that was wrong to say, or…”

“No, I…” Jim rubbed his head. “I mean, I know you always say all that stuff when I help you, but I guess I just kind of assumed you were saying that because you thought I wanted to hear it, and that at the first opportunity you’d overpower me again if you could. I figured you were just saying that stuff because you were scared of me.”

Kane looked up at him with horrified eyes. He unfolded himself and crawled to sit next to Jim’s chair. “Jim, I—I—No, I mean it, I’ve meant everything. You—You’re… The thought of you being hurt like that—the thought of—a vampire—the way you cried for help—cried to me for help.”

Liz’s gaze was steely. “He did that because of the abuse you put him through.”

Kane lowered his head onto Jim’s hand and started sobbing. “I know. I’m sorry, Jim. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to make you see how sorry I am.”

He felt a light touch on his head. When he looked up, Jim was looking down at him kindly. “Well, if you hadn’t been here, I might be toast right now, so I’d say you’re off to a pretty good start."

Kane beamed.

#vampires #whump #kane and jim #my writing #not my characters #back at it again with the smoking keyboard banging out 10 page ficlets from start to finish in one evening asjdkljs;djasjdlas #to my followers who care about this: dont worry i AM still working on WYS i prommy

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