Themes Used: Blood, Blade, Communicate, Warmth
1.6 Schism
He and the Captain stared silently at each other in the empty galley. There was an assault underway; no soldiers would be interrupting them by stopping in for snacks.
Return.
For a moment, Angel blinked, seeing a darkened street rather than a well-lit galley. His fingers curled up and his muscles shook with the urge to attack the unspeaking man.
Butler regained control of himself and again relaxed his fingers as the view of the rubble-strewn street faded to be replaced by the present once more.
He watched the big man approach him, eventually being forced to tilt his head up to continue to meet the man's fixed gaze.
Instinctively, he moved faster than the hand that came up to hit him, ducking under the swing without thought. Butler blocked the next blow with a raised arm, staggering back under the impact.
He realized that he could defend himself, even if he were not allowed to attack. He danced back from the next punch and met the Captain's neutral expression with one of his own – returning nothing for the nothing he was given.
The bare twitch at the corners of his opponent's lips was all the warning Butler was given before the Captain sprang forward. The two men moved through the galley in a dance of attack and defense, making no sound and maintaining such intense focus on each other that their combat caused barely a rattle of silverware as they passed from one end of the room to the other.
Butler jumped on top of one of the butcher blocks and watched the other man, gauging his movements carefully before bringing his foot down on the handle of a knife that had been left sitting after its last use. Before it flipped past the height of his knee, Angel snapped his leg up and almost gently tapped it with a toe to change its trajectory before giving it a hard kick.
Butler froze while Angel raged, wishing death on the Captain for reasons Butler did not, could not understand. When the man slapped his palms together on the blade, stopping it in its flight, Butler took the opportunity to push Angel back down, jumping down from the table to stand in front of the Captain.
When the big man's fist flew this time, Butler forced himself to remain still. Angel wanted to duck – to prove his dominance, Butler took the punch, feeling his cheekbone shatter like crockery under the force. He staggered back and caught his monocle as it flew off, cupping it protectively in his hand.
The Captain nodded curtly and hit him again.
And again.
When the beating ended, Butler took the proffered hand to help pull himself off the floor. Angel was silent, thus the pain had been worth it.
-
Butler watched as the big man opened a refrigerator and poured a large mug of something that screamed blood to his stretched senses. His body had healed the injuries from the beating, but the blood called him; he would need it to operate at peak efficiency.
Angel stirred when the Captain stood over him and handed him the mug, but Butler accepted the drink with a slight nod of acknowledgment. He drank quickly, drowning Angel's voice with the siren song of human life stolen to feed his own.
The drink in his hand reminded him that he still had a duty to the Major to return with his cocoa. Butler turned away from the big man to find and heat the milk for the fat man's beverage.
He could feel the other man watching him as he moved through the galley collecting what he needed to satisfy the Major's desire, but it was unimportant. They had settled matters between them…
Angel stirred restlessly and Butler pushed him down again. This other – this Angel – was more trouble than he was worth. Matters between him and the Captain were settled, no matter Angel's opinion on the subject. It was that one's fault they'd had to take a beating in the first place; he wouldn't give the other a chance to get them punished again.
He didn't look away from the slowly simmering milk when he felt the big man's presence behind him. Only a slight widening of his eyes betrayed his surprise when the man pressed himself against Butler's back, his hands sliding around the smaller man's waist to pull them tightly together.
His mind moved quickly, trying to make sense of what was happening in the context of what little he knew about himself and his place in this world and war. He couldn't make sense of it, but Angel's angry stirring was enough to make Butler lean back against the big man.
He enjoyed the sudden contrast of living warmth to his own cooler body. The other man's smell enveloped him, nothing like that of the woman from whom he had fed after waking, nor like most of the soldiers he had encountered. It was alive, vital, and Butler found his instincts conflicting – attracted to the vitality, but repelled by the strength of the life that was the antithesis of what he was – death.
"We will hunt," the man said, making a promise of those three words before releasing Butler. The man's scent lingered around him even as the Captain left the galley and Butler realized he had been marked. Every other vampire on this airship would smell the big man on him.
Angel raged, but Butler didn't care. In fact, Butler was coming to think that anything Angel hated, was something worth doing or experiencing.
He remembered the scene from the surface of the zeppelin – the hunting grounds that had been laid out beneath him with all its sights, sounds, and smells. He could taste the blood he had smelled in the air.
He and the Captain would hunt. They were different, but they were both predators and together they could immerse themselves in the chaos below them. Butler found himself looking forward to it as he took the steaming milk off the heat.