Bad Blood Part I

Title: Bad Blood Part I
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him."
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence.

Author's Notes: And so, as the nights get longer and Halloween slowly approaches, a girl's fancy turns to blood and guts. Or at least it does if you're a freak like me. I'm at a temporary roadblock with my other stories, so I thought I'd try my hand at a vampire story  - and if it's even one tenth as good as Captus Est I'll be happy. Sorry about the crappy title, couldn't think of a better one.
Things influencing this tale include: the films Near Dark and Razor Blade Smile, the Joe Pitt novels by Charlie Huston, the graphic novel Preacher by Garth Ennis, the British TV shows Ultraviolet and Being Human. There might be some True Blood in there too (I'm about five eps behind on True Blood btw, so pretty please, no spoilers?)
As for Twilight, all I can say is that I haven't read the books or seen the films, so I have no opinion on it and let's just leave it at that.


I check my watch: three in the morning, it's later than I thought. Really should be more careful about things like that. I walk down a nearby alley, hoping it'll bring me out on a familiar street and hit a dead end. I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to find two men blocking the only exit.

They're both bigger and heavier than I am, which wouldn't be difficult. One has a chain wrapped around his fist and, as he unwinds it, the other pulls a switchblade from his jacket pocket and clicks it open. I wonder, would it do any good to try and talk my way out of this? No - something tells me that nothing short of a direct lightning strike would slow these guys down. They've done this before, that much is obvious and asking nicely usually makes things worse, especially if you're doing the asking in an English accent. It's like a red rag to a bull. Better to keep my mouth shut and get it over with.

The first guy, the one with the chain, steps forward and swings low, aiming for my knees. His eyes widen in surprise when, instead of trying to dodge the chain, I bend and grab it. That's nothing compared to the look on his face when I use the chain to swing him into the nearest wall. I hear something crack, probably his neck, as he drops to the ground in a boneless heap. The second guy stands with his mouth hanging open, it's never gone this way before. He backs up and I think he's going to run but then he changes his mind and rushes at me.

I take a step to the left and he whizzes right by me and goes full-tilt into the wall. He drops the switchblade, I pick it up and, before he can get his bearings again, pin him against the wall. I use the knife to make a hole in his neck, put my mouth over it and drink my fill. At least I didn't have to chew a hole in his neck, not tonight. What I wouldn't give for a nice little set of Hollywood fangs. I feel one hand on the back of my own neck, another on my jacket and now I'm the one being thrown, crashing into the opposite wall, dropping my meal and the knife. My attacker grabs it and plants it in my chest, piercing the heart underneath. I hear a familiar giggle as I push him away and pull the blade out.

"That fucking hurt, you prick! And you've ruined my shirt. Why can't you just say hello like a normal person?"

"You know me, Matt - I just can't resist making an entrance. Normal? What do either of us know about being normal? Or being people?"

Not much, not anymore. "What do you want, Dom? I told you I never wanted to see you again."

"Yes you did, and I ignored you completely. I know you didn't really mean it." Dom kneels by the chain man and strips off his long, leather coat. He puts the coat on and twirls around. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculous, like a child dressing up in his father's clothes." Assuming the father in question was a Hell's Angel.

Dom looks down at himself. "Hmm, you might have a point there. Shame." He pulls the coat off and drops it on its owner.

I'm almost definitely going to regret this, but I ask anyway. "Why are you in such a good mood? You're practically vibrating. Have leopard print shirts suddenly come into fashion or something?"

"Oh, I'm just feeling romantic. Look at this: a full moon in the sky, you, me, an alley that smells of piss and dead men at our feet. Just like the night we met." Dom hugs himself. "It gives me a lovely warm feeling."

"Maybe you've wet yourself. That would explain the smell." I brush past him on my way out. I don't feel like wasting what's left of the night trying to have a civilised conversation, or any kind of conversation, with him. We've played this game too many times before. But Dom's having none of it. He grabs my arm and drags me to the end of the alley, shoving me against a dumpster and holding me in place. I squirm against him. "Let me go."

He leans in and licks my ear. "Make me."

So I do. I break his hold on me and spin us until he's the one against the dumpster. Then I start punching him in the face, over and over again, right hand, left hand, right, left, trying to show him just how much I fucking hate him. He doesn't try to defend himself, he just takes it and the smile never leaves his face. My hands slow as the anger drains out of me and then he makes his move, throwing me against the dumpster again, this time with enough force to leave a dent in the metal.

I hate the way he does that - he always has to prove he's stronger than me, that he'll always have the edge. He leans in again, whispering in my ear. "You want this, Matt, you always do, so don't even try to pretend. You'll never be rid of me, never. We'll be doing this until the end of time." Dom presses his mouth to mine and I resist for all of five seconds before giving up and letting him in. Our tongues battle for dominance, sliding, twisting, entwining. He wins when I feel his hand on my groin, stroking me through my jeans. I moan into his mouth, my surrender complete. As we pull at each other's belts I can't help but hate myself for being so fucking weak. He's right, I can't resist him and I never could. Oh, I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him. It's true, we can do this until the end of time. That's what I'm afraid of.