Lament for a Daemon's Soul [Chapter Thirteen]
Title: Lament for a Daemon’s Soul
Author: Sio
Rating: At least R for violence.
Length: 27604 / ?
Spoilers: This is AU, but Season 1 spoilers are possible starting with chapter 6.
Summary: Rachel is a member of an immortal altered race of humans that call themselves the Vanpyr and live in secret alongside normal humans. Murdered years earlier, her outrage over her death gave her the strength of will to step Beyond the Veil and join the ranks of the altered humans known as the Vanpyr as a daemon. Since then she has been hiding the truth of her existence and fighting to control the Beast within her. So far so good, until she enrolls as a student at William McKinley High in Lima, Ohio as the daughter of her “two gay dads”.
Note: This is a loose fusion with an original universe.
For a prompt (found here) at rq_meme.
A/N: An extra warning for this chapter, violence. Yes, I know there's a general warning for it, but I like to give extra warning for this one.
*****
Chapter Thirteen
He sat against the hickory tree again, the hole where she’d flicked a crumpled bottle cap into it just above his head once more. It’d taken longer to get there in his human form, but Rachel’d never asked to meet him somewhere else than their usual place when they wanted to hunt together, so he figured she wanted to talk. And, while his wolf form was faster - and warmer, he thought, rubbing his arms against the chill in the air - the more empathic than telepathic form of communication afforded in that form didn’t exactly lend itself to conversation.
He pulled on his beer, wondering what she wanted to talk about. For a brief - terrifying - moment, he thought she’d found out about Quinn. About the baby. But he’d dismissed it. It wasn’t something she’d send a text message about and then actually wait over. This was Rachel. It was probably something silly about getting him to join her little singing club or something. He smirked, confident that he’d figured it out - of course, he’d join if she asked, it might be social suicide, but he was the Puckster and besides, he’d do anything for the feisty brunette - and took another pull from the bottle in his hand.
The smirk fell away when he caught a flicker of movement on the far side of the clearing, the one closest to Rachel’s house. There it was again. He set the bottle aside and straightened, pulling his legs under him to help him get up.
She burst into the clearing in mid-transformation. It wasn’t the painfully slow change of grinding bones and writhing muscles, but a rage fueled explosion from one form to the next. She hadn’t expected to change, she had to have come straight from school, caught helpless as the Beast’s rage slipped from her control.
Her delicate human hands shredded in a spray of crimson, the elongated bones and heavy white claws of the daemon ripping through the skin to gleam white and shimmering crimson lines in the moonlight for a second before the muscles rippled across like bloody worms, skin following like a flowing blanket, reforming into the monstrous paws of the Beast. Her arms lengthened abruptly, skin tearing with a wet, shuddering sound, the sleeves of her shirt tattering to hang in shreds from her shoulders like a bizarre set of epaulets. Her feet changed mid-step, swelling her shoes until the massive talons burst free of the leather, bone stark against the grass of the clearing as she stepped out of the tattered remains of leather. Her legs twisted, lengthening and bending until she walked with two extra joints flexing with every step, shreds of her white knee socks clinging to her calves.
Her horns erupted from her forehead in a sanguine spray, cruelly curling back to cup her skull, leaving ropes of blood spilling across her features like a macabre mask. Her jaw broke and lengthened mid-shriek of fury, human teeth erupting from her mouth to make way for the rows of shark-like incisors as her cheeks ripped open to accommodate the suddenly oversized jaw and extra teeth. Her cheeks sunk, nose splitting , the bones standing out in stark relief as her eyes ignited, flames darting out of the sockets to lick at her flesh, sizzling and scorching.
Her torso thinned and stretched, ribs popping audibly through her flesh with a horrible sound - even across the clearing - as they moved to accommodate the larger lungs required to sustain her in flight. The remains of her shirt were barely enough to contain her modesty after her wings burst from her back and torn through the layers of fabric holding them back, flaring outwards to their full extent accompanied by a shower of gore as they snapped into full extension.
She screamed at the agony as her body twisted, shrieked and raved at the pain, the ground around her darkened with her own blood, but still she advanced inexorably across the clearing towards him. He scrambled to his feet, not wanting to be sitting when she reached him. He’d only seen her this angry a few times and never had it been directed at him.
“What have you done?!” Her voice ripped out of her like a banshee’s shriek, wild and agonized, terrible to hear.
Suddenly he understood his Beast’s fear, understood why he always wanted to run from the bloody vision suddenly presented before him in the tattered remains of the clothing of the woman he’d loved enough to live for after dying. He understood why the Daemon were feared, understood why Rachel had cautioned him about them. Understood that she was a living embodiment of vengeance.
The change complete, she’d gathered speed, hurtling towards him, the whistling screech of a daemon’s hunting cry ripping from the depths of her being. His Beast gibbere within him in terror at the sight, wrenching control away long enough to start the shift, to change, to escape. He panicked at the first familiar feelings of shift spreading over him, she’d never listen to him if he went wolf. She’d never stop, never let him apologize, if he shifted now. Never let him explain. He’d die before he had the chance.
He couldn’t change! He screamed at his Beast, raged in fear at the changes coming over him. He needed his hands to have even a chance at stopping her! He needed his voice, his words! The Beast couldn’t take them, couldn’t make him die as a dog, not now! He threw his will, his fear, everything he had at the Beast, denying the change, denying the Beast. Pleading, willing, hoping and praying to a God he’d denied since he’d buried his son that it’d be enough.
Something was different. The change was strange. He knew it washed over him, felt the agony of breaking and reforming into something different, multiplied in intensity by the speed at which it occurred.
Then she reached him and lashed out in fury with a fierce paw, striking at him with such force that if he’d stayed in human form he’d have died instantly. He didn’t know what made him do it - some instinct from his human side maybe - but he’d thrown up a paw in defense. Eyes squeezed shut, he’d waited for the searing anguish of her claws sinking into his flesh, for the blinding darkness of the Veil settling over him a second and final time.
A moment later, the pain never having arrived, he allowed his eyes to flutter open. There, mere inches from his head, a massive, black furred hand gripped her forearm, somehow holding her back despite the odds. Disbelieving brown eyes slipped down the powerful arm attached to the hand, saw the rags of a shirt that looked suspiciously like his hanging from the shoulder. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. He’d never achieved any form but the wolf and his human badass self before. It wasn’t possible.
His eyes met hers and he suddenly realized that he was shaking with how much effort it was taking to keep her hands from his body. Maybe he’d never pulled it off before because no one had really been trying to kill him before. Maybe it was because it was Rachel, his Rachel, furiously angry.
“Rachel! Rach,” He was amazed that he could speak. He’d never been able to speak! But his amazement cost him some of the hard-won space and he threw his attention back where it belonged. Staying alive long enough to find out why she was so furious, to explain. “wait! Wait! What’s wrong?!”
Her arm vanished from his grip like it’d never been there. He felt the fist crush into his abdomen, lifting him bodily into the air before sending him hurtling back into the tree. He crashed into the rough bark, feeling it rip his skin under his fur, hearing the crack as the wood strained against the force that struck it and failed. His body whipped back, his head cracking painfully into the unforgiving trunk, ears going flat against his canid skull and his lips curling up to bare the mouthful of wolf-like fangs filling his elongated jaw at the bright sparkles of pain shooting behind his eyes.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” She stalked towards him, fury still blackening the skin around her eyes, her normally impressive vocabulary sent into hiding by her rage. “You knocked up Quinn Fabray, you insensitive ignorant asshole! That’s what’s fucking wrong!”
She knew.
He didn’t know how or why, but she knew. He felt the air leave him, slipping away to ostracize him in an airless bubble of self-loathing and disgust. Rachel knew. And he knew that he’d failed. That he’d failed both of them with one stupid, drunken mistake.
When he felt her claws sink into his chest in lieu of a shirt to grab, he didn’t resist. Nor did he resist when she shook him, slamming him repeatedly into the tree. He deserved it. Deserved the pain, the blood running in rivulets down his chest, soaking into the remaining tatters of his clothing, caking into his fur. He’d never felt as low as he did knowing he hadn’t lived up to Rachel’s standards, knowing he let her down.
The situation with Quinn hurt in a different way. She wouldn’t let her be there for their child. He’d not had another child since Issac. He wanted to be there for her, for his child. He’d marry her if that’s what it took, stop fooling around. He was a good guy. But she didn’t want him.
“It was an accident, Rach.” his voice was low, rough with the growl of the Beast that still screamed to flee, “I swear. I - I didn’t even know I could any more.”
“What kind of excuse is that?!” She slammed him into the tree with enough force to break limbs free higher up and send them crashing down around them. “It doesn’t matter if it was an accident or not! You impregnated Quinn! You did! You! ”
That did it. His head snapped up, glaring into her eyes. His hands snapped around her wrists and ripped her hands from his flesh, bodily shoving her away from him. He wouldn’t have been able to if she wasn’t so much lighter in daemon form to allow her to fly, if she hadn’t let him. He wasn’t ready to give up and die just yet. He had a child to protect, whether Quinn wanted to let him or not.
“Yeah, I did!” His lips curled in a vicious snarl as he spoke. “I did and she doesn’t want me!”
“How could you, Noah?! How could you!? I trusted you to know better, to be better!” Her voice trembled, the strange harmonics of the daemon distorting her words, mangling them to the point he could barely understand. But he knew. He understood, even if she didn’t, and his shock was what let her grip his shoulders and fling him across the clearing. “How could you take something so precious from her and not even care enough to be safe?”
She’d stopped coming after him. Hitting another tree - and knocking that one over - really hurt, but she’d stopped. She was getting control of the Beast and he’d never felt so incredibly grateful for her insanely stubborn will before.
“I was drunk.”
“That’s not an excuse. That’s not an excuse!” For a second, he thought she’d attack him again, but she restrained herself. “She deserved better, Noah. She deserved someone who cared.” Her voice dropped so low and he almost didn’t hear her, even with his sensitive ears pricked towards her. “Not you.”
It hurt. It hurt more than he’d ever known - more than he could know - hearing the pain in her voice. He’d thought he couldn’t feel lower than he did right than, but as he crept closer and saw the tell-tale glistening on her cheeks, he knew he’d been wrong.
He battled his fear, fought the Beast cowering inside him that said to run while she was distracted by her own pain. He stood on shaky legs and stumbled towards her. Walking hurt from all the bruises on his back, the holes in his chest from her claws burned, and he was pretty sure he’d broken at least two ribs, probably more, but he kept going. He couldn’t let her down any more.
Trembling arms reached out, terrified that she’d lash out again, knowing he wouldn’t resist anymore if she tried to kill him again, a small part of him wanting her to. His breath hissed out between his teeth as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. She shuddered and choked on her sobs as he held her, claws raking down his chest and drawing more blood in their wake, but he didn’t let go.
“She never deserved you.” She whispered into his chest fur. “She doesn’t deserve any of this.”
“I know. I know, Rach.” His voice was almost as broken as hers as he tried so desperately to comfort her. He hadn’t known. Hadn’t realized how important the blonde was to his girl. He ‘d been blind and he felt so damn stupid. “I didn’t know you love her, Rach, I swear. I didn’t know.”
“I don’t.” Her eyes met his, willing him to see her conviction.
“Bullshit, Rachel.” He tried smiling, but doubted it looked as good as in his human form. “I know you.”
“I don’t, I just...”
“You love her. Just accept it.”
“I can’t.” Rachel pushed away, not willing to accept his bloodstained comfort any longer. “I’ve been down that road before, and I’m not interested in chasing after a straight girl again.” She glanced over at him. “You need medical care, see that you receive it.” She stepped to the middle of the clearing, wings unfurled to carry her into the air, but gave him one last look over her shoulder. “Be there for her, Noah, or I swear tonight will seem like a pleasant walk in the park.” A brief hesitation. “Let me know if you need financial support.”
Then she was gone with a mighty blast of air from those powerful wings scooping down and flinging her into the air. In moments, she was just another patch of darkness in the starless sky. He slumped to his knees, a hand to his chest. He’d have a hell of a time explaining the injuries to his grandchildren, but wounds from Rachel’s claws never healed like regular injuries did when he shifted between forms.
He focused on that, because he had no idea how to make Quinn let him be there for her like Rachel was insisting.
Author: Sio
Rating: At least R for violence.
Length: 27604 / ?
Spoilers: This is AU, but Season 1 spoilers are possible starting with chapter 6.
Summary: Rachel is a member of an immortal altered race of humans that call themselves the Vanpyr and live in secret alongside normal humans. Murdered years earlier, her outrage over her death gave her the strength of will to step Beyond the Veil and join the ranks of the altered humans known as the Vanpyr as a daemon. Since then she has been hiding the truth of her existence and fighting to control the Beast within her. So far so good, until she enrolls as a student at William McKinley High in Lima, Ohio as the daughter of her “two gay dads”.
Note: This is a loose fusion with an original universe.
For a prompt (found here) at rq_meme.
A/N: An extra warning for this chapter, violence. Yes, I know there's a general warning for it, but I like to give extra warning for this one.
*****
Chapter Thirteen
He sat against the hickory tree again, the hole where she’d flicked a crumpled bottle cap into it just above his head once more. It’d taken longer to get there in his human form, but Rachel’d never asked to meet him somewhere else than their usual place when they wanted to hunt together, so he figured she wanted to talk. And, while his wolf form was faster - and warmer, he thought, rubbing his arms against the chill in the air - the more empathic than telepathic form of communication afforded in that form didn’t exactly lend itself to conversation.
He pulled on his beer, wondering what she wanted to talk about. For a brief - terrifying - moment, he thought she’d found out about Quinn. About the baby. But he’d dismissed it. It wasn’t something she’d send a text message about and then actually wait over. This was Rachel. It was probably something silly about getting him to join her little singing club or something. He smirked, confident that he’d figured it out - of course, he’d join if she asked, it might be social suicide, but he was the Puckster and besides, he’d do anything for the feisty brunette - and took another pull from the bottle in his hand.
The smirk fell away when he caught a flicker of movement on the far side of the clearing, the one closest to Rachel’s house. There it was again. He set the bottle aside and straightened, pulling his legs under him to help him get up.
She burst into the clearing in mid-transformation. It wasn’t the painfully slow change of grinding bones and writhing muscles, but a rage fueled explosion from one form to the next. She hadn’t expected to change, she had to have come straight from school, caught helpless as the Beast’s rage slipped from her control.
Her delicate human hands shredded in a spray of crimson, the elongated bones and heavy white claws of the daemon ripping through the skin to gleam white and shimmering crimson lines in the moonlight for a second before the muscles rippled across like bloody worms, skin following like a flowing blanket, reforming into the monstrous paws of the Beast. Her arms lengthened abruptly, skin tearing with a wet, shuddering sound, the sleeves of her shirt tattering to hang in shreds from her shoulders like a bizarre set of epaulets. Her feet changed mid-step, swelling her shoes until the massive talons burst free of the leather, bone stark against the grass of the clearing as she stepped out of the tattered remains of leather. Her legs twisted, lengthening and bending until she walked with two extra joints flexing with every step, shreds of her white knee socks clinging to her calves.
Her horns erupted from her forehead in a sanguine spray, cruelly curling back to cup her skull, leaving ropes of blood spilling across her features like a macabre mask. Her jaw broke and lengthened mid-shriek of fury, human teeth erupting from her mouth to make way for the rows of shark-like incisors as her cheeks ripped open to accommodate the suddenly oversized jaw and extra teeth. Her cheeks sunk, nose splitting , the bones standing out in stark relief as her eyes ignited, flames darting out of the sockets to lick at her flesh, sizzling and scorching.
Her torso thinned and stretched, ribs popping audibly through her flesh with a horrible sound - even across the clearing - as they moved to accommodate the larger lungs required to sustain her in flight. The remains of her shirt were barely enough to contain her modesty after her wings burst from her back and torn through the layers of fabric holding them back, flaring outwards to their full extent accompanied by a shower of gore as they snapped into full extension.
She screamed at the agony as her body twisted, shrieked and raved at the pain, the ground around her darkened with her own blood, but still she advanced inexorably across the clearing towards him. He scrambled to his feet, not wanting to be sitting when she reached him. He’d only seen her this angry a few times and never had it been directed at him.
“What have you done?!” Her voice ripped out of her like a banshee’s shriek, wild and agonized, terrible to hear.
Suddenly he understood his Beast’s fear, understood why he always wanted to run from the bloody vision suddenly presented before him in the tattered remains of the clothing of the woman he’d loved enough to live for after dying. He understood why the Daemon were feared, understood why Rachel had cautioned him about them. Understood that she was a living embodiment of vengeance.
The change complete, she’d gathered speed, hurtling towards him, the whistling screech of a daemon’s hunting cry ripping from the depths of her being. His Beast gibbere within him in terror at the sight, wrenching control away long enough to start the shift, to change, to escape. He panicked at the first familiar feelings of shift spreading over him, she’d never listen to him if he went wolf. She’d never stop, never let him apologize, if he shifted now. Never let him explain. He’d die before he had the chance.
He couldn’t change! He screamed at his Beast, raged in fear at the changes coming over him. He needed his hands to have even a chance at stopping her! He needed his voice, his words! The Beast couldn’t take them, couldn’t make him die as a dog, not now! He threw his will, his fear, everything he had at the Beast, denying the change, denying the Beast. Pleading, willing, hoping and praying to a God he’d denied since he’d buried his son that it’d be enough.
Something was different. The change was strange. He knew it washed over him, felt the agony of breaking and reforming into something different, multiplied in intensity by the speed at which it occurred.
Then she reached him and lashed out in fury with a fierce paw, striking at him with such force that if he’d stayed in human form he’d have died instantly. He didn’t know what made him do it - some instinct from his human side maybe - but he’d thrown up a paw in defense. Eyes squeezed shut, he’d waited for the searing anguish of her claws sinking into his flesh, for the blinding darkness of the Veil settling over him a second and final time.
A moment later, the pain never having arrived, he allowed his eyes to flutter open. There, mere inches from his head, a massive, black furred hand gripped her forearm, somehow holding her back despite the odds. Disbelieving brown eyes slipped down the powerful arm attached to the hand, saw the rags of a shirt that looked suspiciously like his hanging from the shoulder. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. He’d never achieved any form but the wolf and his human badass self before. It wasn’t possible.
His eyes met hers and he suddenly realized that he was shaking with how much effort it was taking to keep her hands from his body. Maybe he’d never pulled it off before because no one had really been trying to kill him before. Maybe it was because it was Rachel, his Rachel, furiously angry.
“Rachel! Rach,” He was amazed that he could speak. He’d never been able to speak! But his amazement cost him some of the hard-won space and he threw his attention back where it belonged. Staying alive long enough to find out why she was so furious, to explain. “wait! Wait! What’s wrong?!”
Her arm vanished from his grip like it’d never been there. He felt the fist crush into his abdomen, lifting him bodily into the air before sending him hurtling back into the tree. He crashed into the rough bark, feeling it rip his skin under his fur, hearing the crack as the wood strained against the force that struck it and failed. His body whipped back, his head cracking painfully into the unforgiving trunk, ears going flat against his canid skull and his lips curling up to bare the mouthful of wolf-like fangs filling his elongated jaw at the bright sparkles of pain shooting behind his eyes.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” She stalked towards him, fury still blackening the skin around her eyes, her normally impressive vocabulary sent into hiding by her rage. “You knocked up Quinn Fabray, you insensitive ignorant asshole! That’s what’s fucking wrong!”
She knew.
He didn’t know how or why, but she knew. He felt the air leave him, slipping away to ostracize him in an airless bubble of self-loathing and disgust. Rachel knew. And he knew that he’d failed. That he’d failed both of them with one stupid, drunken mistake.
When he felt her claws sink into his chest in lieu of a shirt to grab, he didn’t resist. Nor did he resist when she shook him, slamming him repeatedly into the tree. He deserved it. Deserved the pain, the blood running in rivulets down his chest, soaking into the remaining tatters of his clothing, caking into his fur. He’d never felt as low as he did knowing he hadn’t lived up to Rachel’s standards, knowing he let her down.
The situation with Quinn hurt in a different way. She wouldn’t let her be there for their child. He’d not had another child since Issac. He wanted to be there for her, for his child. He’d marry her if that’s what it took, stop fooling around. He was a good guy. But she didn’t want him.
“It was an accident, Rach.” his voice was low, rough with the growl of the Beast that still screamed to flee, “I swear. I - I didn’t even know I could any more.”
“What kind of excuse is that?!” She slammed him into the tree with enough force to break limbs free higher up and send them crashing down around them. “It doesn’t matter if it was an accident or not! You impregnated Quinn! You did! You! ”
That did it. His head snapped up, glaring into her eyes. His hands snapped around her wrists and ripped her hands from his flesh, bodily shoving her away from him. He wouldn’t have been able to if she wasn’t so much lighter in daemon form to allow her to fly, if she hadn’t let him. He wasn’t ready to give up and die just yet. He had a child to protect, whether Quinn wanted to let him or not.
“Yeah, I did!” His lips curled in a vicious snarl as he spoke. “I did and she doesn’t want me!”
“How could you, Noah?! How could you!? I trusted you to know better, to be better!” Her voice trembled, the strange harmonics of the daemon distorting her words, mangling them to the point he could barely understand. But he knew. He understood, even if she didn’t, and his shock was what let her grip his shoulders and fling him across the clearing. “How could you take something so precious from her and not even care enough to be safe?”
She’d stopped coming after him. Hitting another tree - and knocking that one over - really hurt, but she’d stopped. She was getting control of the Beast and he’d never felt so incredibly grateful for her insanely stubborn will before.
“I was drunk.”
“That’s not an excuse. That’s not an excuse!” For a second, he thought she’d attack him again, but she restrained herself. “She deserved better, Noah. She deserved someone who cared.” Her voice dropped so low and he almost didn’t hear her, even with his sensitive ears pricked towards her. “Not you.”
It hurt. It hurt more than he’d ever known - more than he could know - hearing the pain in her voice. He’d thought he couldn’t feel lower than he did right than, but as he crept closer and saw the tell-tale glistening on her cheeks, he knew he’d been wrong.
He battled his fear, fought the Beast cowering inside him that said to run while she was distracted by her own pain. He stood on shaky legs and stumbled towards her. Walking hurt from all the bruises on his back, the holes in his chest from her claws burned, and he was pretty sure he’d broken at least two ribs, probably more, but he kept going. He couldn’t let her down any more.
Trembling arms reached out, terrified that she’d lash out again, knowing he wouldn’t resist anymore if she tried to kill him again, a small part of him wanting her to. His breath hissed out between his teeth as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. She shuddered and choked on her sobs as he held her, claws raking down his chest and drawing more blood in their wake, but he didn’t let go.
“She never deserved you.” She whispered into his chest fur. “She doesn’t deserve any of this.”
“I know. I know, Rach.” His voice was almost as broken as hers as he tried so desperately to comfort her. He hadn’t known. Hadn’t realized how important the blonde was to his girl. He ‘d been blind and he felt so damn stupid. “I didn’t know you love her, Rach, I swear. I didn’t know.”
“I don’t.” Her eyes met his, willing him to see her conviction.
“Bullshit, Rachel.” He tried smiling, but doubted it looked as good as in his human form. “I know you.”
“I don’t, I just...”
“You love her. Just accept it.”
“I can’t.” Rachel pushed away, not willing to accept his bloodstained comfort any longer. “I’ve been down that road before, and I’m not interested in chasing after a straight girl again.” She glanced over at him. “You need medical care, see that you receive it.” She stepped to the middle of the clearing, wings unfurled to carry her into the air, but gave him one last look over her shoulder. “Be there for her, Noah, or I swear tonight will seem like a pleasant walk in the park.” A brief hesitation. “Let me know if you need financial support.”
Then she was gone with a mighty blast of air from those powerful wings scooping down and flinging her into the air. In moments, she was just another patch of darkness in the starless sky. He slumped to his knees, a hand to his chest. He’d have a hell of a time explaining the injuries to his grandchildren, but wounds from Rachel’s claws never healed like regular injuries did when he shifted between forms.
He focused on that, because he had no idea how to make Quinn let him be there for her like Rachel was insisting.