God Hates Us

~Previously...~

“Johnny? I told you to leave.” I turn around, but it’s not Johnny.

My eyes take in tattoos; a lip piercing; dark eyes; sharp teeth bared in a grin.

~Now...~

“Hey, Cass.”

My heartbeat quickens as I tense, fighting not to back away; what would be the point? He takes a step forwards, tilting his head slightly on one side, then says with a chuckle, “I’m not gonna eat you, you know. D’you want me to take a look at that?”

“Get away from me.” Maybe I trusted him not to kill me, maybe I didn’t; I wasn’t sure. Either way, I wasn’t willing to take the chance.

“Come on, if I was going to kill you I would’ve done it already,” Vengeance says. “And if you don’t get that sorted out, you’ll probably bleed to death,” he adds with a smile.

I glance down at my arm again. The blood is pumping out in a steady pulse, meaning I’ve cut an artery, maybe a major one. He’s right, much as I hate to admit it.

“Right, now we’ve got that sorted out, can I please have a look at that?” He’s suddenly beside me, pushing a chair behind my legs just as they give way. I hadn’t noticed myself feeling faint, but as soon as I’m sitting down the room seems to start spinning around me.

He’s done before I realise what he’s doing; he raises his head from my arm as I jerk in shock, a dark red gleam of what looks suspiciously like blood (my blood!) at the side of his mouth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I almost yell, trying to stand up and get away from him, but the room tips and I fall back onto the chair.

“Saving your life,” he replies, wiping his mouth and glancing down at my arm. I look in the same direction, staring at the area where I’d cut mys-

Where there was now only a reddish-purple scar.

“What the-”

“You’re welcome.”

I don't reply for a few seconds, then say one word only: “Why?”

“Why save your life?”

I nod.

“I don’t want to kill you. If I let you die when I could save you, it would come to the same thing.”

“But I did this to myself.” I frown. Then another question hits me. “How were you able to do that?”

“The healing comes with the vampirism, honey.” He smirks. “You should know that.”

I shake me head impatiently. “No, I mean: How were you able to stop? You’ve got a hell of a lot more self-control than any other vamp I’ve met.”

He inclines his head slightly. “I’ll take that as a compliment. To answer your question: practice.”

“That’s how you were able to turn Johnny without killing him?”

“He told you the story then?” He answers my question with another question.

I nod again. “He said you saved his life.”

He throws himself into another chair at the table and props his chin on his hands. “That’s what he likes to call it. Personally, I disagree.”

“But he’s still walking around, still technically ‘alive’, so-”

“But what about his family, the ones he loved? He had to watch them die, while he lived in the shadows. Fifty years! He’s lost everyone, and it’s my fault he had to see it.” He sounds genuinely remorseful, and I feel an urge to put a hand on his shoulder. I don't, though; that would be too weird.

Instead, I say softly, “If he thinks you saved him, isn’t that enough? Isn’t his gratitude worth it?”

He doesn't reply immediately; I count twenty seconds before at last he replies, “I guess. Sometimes I wonder whether...”

He stops and I raise my eyebrows, prompting, “Whether...?”

“Whether he’s really better off like this,” he finishes, meeting my gaze.

“He doesn't seem to mind.”

“I know. None of them do.” He runs a hand through his hair and exhales sharply.
“How did you... I mean, Johnny told me how you saved him. What about the others? Did you 'save' them, too?”

He looks at me with surprise. “Interested?”

“Know your enemy,” I reply, only half joking.

He laughs shortly, then nods, almost to himself. “I guess it’s only fair, seeing as...”

“Seeing as you kidnapped me and all, yeah,” I finish, only a little irritably. There’s no point in being angry about it now; arguing won’t change the situation. Instead, I prompt, “So...”

“So. Yeah. Why not? Can’t do any harm, I guess.” He takes a deep breath, then begins. “Well, Matt’s story’s a simple one. Someone had stabbed him in a parking lot for his wallet. You can do the math. Brian, he’s a different story. For a few years I worked part-time in a prison. I met Brian a few times, started getting to like him. One day, I heard a rumour among the other inmates that someone was going to kill themselves. They didn’t say who, but somehow I had a feeling it was him. I ran to his room; usually I could tell he was in there by hearing his thoughts, but I couldn’t hear anything. He’d torn up his bed-sheets and tied them round the light in the ceiling. Hanged himself.”

He pauses before continuing.

“Before someone saw and started shouting, I got him down and checked everything. His neck was broken, but he still had a pulse. Don't ask me how, but somehow he’d managed to break the bones in his neck without severing his spinal cord. The rest is history.

“Jimmy was a weird one though. The three of us (me, Matt and Brian) met him in a bar and we made friends in, like, a second. About three weeks later, maybe four – I forget – he saw us...well, being us. Anyway, he flipped out-”

“As any sane person would,” I put in, but he shakes his head.

“No, that’s the point. It wasn’t like that; he wasn’t scared or freaked. He was jealous.”

“...I’m sorry?” I frown.

“I know! All he talked about after that was how much he wanted to be like us. I kept telling him no, he didn’t understand, it wasn’t like he thought it was, but he didn’t stop.”

“So you changed him? What about his family, friends?”

“Didn’t have any. His dad pushed off when he was three and his manic-depressive mom killed herself seven years later. All the other kids in his neighbourhood were scared of him, wouldn’t go near him, so he spent years alone, fending for himself. His grandparents had left a bit of money, so he got by, but it wasn’t much of a life.”

I can only nod, struck dumb with pity. What a life. No wonder he wanted this.

“That’s what I thought; why I finally agreed to turn him. The others were too inexperienced to do it, they would’ve killed him.”

“And Johnny... appeared after that?”

“Yeah, about three years after Jimmy.”

I nod slowly. Then, a question I’ve been pondering for some time comes to the fore of my mind. “How old are you?”

“Twenty seven,” he replies with a wry smile.

“How many years have you existed?” Smart-ass.

“Not sure. I lost count after about two hundred,” he says casually.

I raise my eyebrows, impressed despite myself. That’s pretty old, even by vamp standards. Most get themselves killed before they hit one-fifty. “So that makes the others...”

“Matt’s just turned 85, Brian’s 83, Jimmy’s 79 and Johnny’s the youngster; he’s only 74.” Anyone else hearing this would’ve been really confused, but I get what he means. 74 is young for his kind.

“You hide it well,” I comment with a laugh.

He laughs too and, for a moment, it’s possible to forget that I’m sitting with a bloodthirsty killer.

“I’ve never killed a human, you know,” he says with a slightly accusatory note in his voice.

“Right, so you’ve lived on what, blue steak?”

“Something like that. You know there are millions of unsolved livestock mutilations all over the country?”

“...You’ve been drinking cow blood?” I like a bit of rare steak myself, but that just sounds gross.

“Yep. At least, until someone had the bright idea of blood banks. Tastes better, and definitely better than killing people.”

I’m entirely surprised (almost shocked) to hear him say this. All the other vampires I’ve met have, without exception, boasted of how many people they’ve killed, how much pain they’ve caused.

“Maybe this one is different?” he says, with a smile in his voice. I don't say anything, and he continues. “Just because it’s been a while since I was human doesn't mean I’ve forgotten it.”

I can’t help asking. “What happened to you?”

“You mean, how did I become like this?”

I nod. “Who turned you?” Anyone I know?

“I don't know. All I remember is I was walking, it was dark, then someone got me from behind. Then nothing, until I woke up in the middle of nowhere, covered in blood, like this.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

“You have no idea.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Have you ever been addicted to drugs, alcohol, the like?”

I shake my head.

“No, me neither, but I’ve heard what it feels like. I just wanted blood, all the time; I thought I was losing my mind. Then, when I finally realised what was going on, I tried to end it.”

“To kill yourself?”

He nods solemnly. “Didn’t work, of course. Apparently guns, cliffs, rope and poison aren’t as effective as an axe or a good sharp knife to the heart. I don't think anyone’s managed to survive drinking a whole bottle of bleach before.”

“Wow. You really did try, didn’t you?”

“Yup. That didn’t taste nice.” He says it lightly, but I can see in his eyes how hard it is to dredge up these old memories.

The silence stretches out, reaching almost ten minutes before either of us speaks. Finally, I say tentatively, “Something Johnny said...He said you had a girl? What happened?”

He stands up abruptly. “I have to go,” he says shortly, exiting the room without another word, leaving me alone.

Okay. So he doesn't like to talk about that. I shrug slightly, then look around. Food is still spread out over the counters and table; the light on the stove has switched off, telling me it's at the right temperature.

The pizza doesn't take long. I find some plain 12” bases in the freezer (along with a large box of hospital-style baggies of frozen blood – ugh) spread them with tomato sauce and grate some cheese, finishing them off with the chopped mushrooms, tomatoes and chicken. Not a bad haul for a vampire's kitchen. While they’re cooking, I hum to myself, not noticing the door opening until someone behind me coughs quietly.

“Jesus! Don't do that!” I almost drop the oven tray I’m holding, spinning round in surprise.

“Sorry!” Johnny holds up his hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“S’okay.” I set the tray down on top of the stove, pointing at the cooked pizzas. “Hungry?”

He grins, and we set to work, polishing off both in less than ten minutes.

“Man, I’ve missed good pizza,” Johnny says, making me laugh.

As I’m clearing the plates away, the door opens and Sullivan walks in. “Hey, Johnny.” He ignores me, but I don't care.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

Johnny sits back and tries not to look guilty as Sullivan glances in amusement at the plates in my hands. “D’you get hungry?”

“Not me.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at me. “She wanted to cook, so...”

“Fair enough. Zacky wants to see you.”

“What, now?” Johnny glances at me, then back to his friend. “How come?”

“Didn’t say. I’d go now, if I were you. He sounds pretty pissed.”

“Maybe it would be best if you went upstairs, Cass,” Johnny says, apologetically.

For once, I don't argue; the last thing I need is to get between two arguing vampires and, from the sound of it, Vengeance is not happy. Because of me, or...? I ask Johnny silently.

He shakes his head very slightly, telling me to wait. Heading back upstairs to my room, I catch sight of Shadows and Gates watching TV; they look up at the same time and Gates smirks slightly.

The door closes behind me (I don't bother to lock it) and I sit on the bed to wait for the outcome of the argument. To my surprise, I find myself hoping Johnny doesn't get in too much trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Zacky’s POV~

Johnny sits on the edge of the couch, looking nervously up at me. If I was the sadistic type (like Brian, say) I might find it amusing. Instead, it saddens me. I’ve sent Matt and Brian out of the room; they’ll probably eavesdrop anyway, but there’s no getting entirely round that. At least this way they aren’t staring at him. Kid’s freaked out enough as it is.

“What’s this about, Zack?” he asks, his voice surprisingly steady. Judging from his stance, I would’ve said he was scared, but his tone said otherwise.

“She knew... things about me. What did you tell her?” I ask in response, watching him levelly. If you’ve been spilling secrets, Johnny...

“You heard. We were in the same room.”

“So that’s it? You haven’t told her anything else?”

“I haven’t, I swear.” His tone and eyes tell me it’s the truth. Besides, nothing happens in this house that I don't find out about sooner or later.

“Alright. I believe you.” He visibly relaxes; it hits me how scared he really is of me, and of incurring my anger. I'm not sure whether I’m happy about that or not. “I’m still pissed at you, though. You’re fraternising with the enemy.” Now he looks nervous again, almost making me feel guilty. Softening my tone, I punch him lightly in the shoulder and say, “You’re too damn nice, you know that?”

Johnny grins, looking intensely relieved.

“Hey, guys. You can come back in now,” I call; Matt comes back into the room alone. “Where’s Brian?” I ask, frowning.

“Said he was going for a walk,” Matt replies with a shrug.

I raise an eyebrow and concentrate for a moment. Then my eyes narrow. “He’s upstairs,” I say, already at the door. If he touches her...