Old Blood New Bonds

Chapter 11

 He looked in the mirror, adjusting his cuffs for the fourth time. His hands moved over his hair, smoothing down any loose strands. He tried to show his best smile in his reflection. In doing so, he revealed his fangs, which appeared normal as they weren't fully brought down. Alastor's smile wavered, raising a hand and poking lightly at one of his fangs.

It only took that much to draw blood from his finger.

He took his finger away, smiling sadly at his hand as the small stream of blood trickled down his palm. He stared at it for longer than needed, watching as it parted into small, different streams; different paths. No, he shouldn't have, but yet, he couldn't help but wonder.

Perhaps in an alternative life, another time...another world.

Would things be this painful?

Would he be haunted by nightmares and cravings for blood? An insatiable hunger that could never be quenched. Even if he had taken a hundred lives. Or even a thousand. A feeling he was born - no - cursed with. A feeling he did not want. A feeling he did not ask for.

Alastor sighed, massaging his temples and easing away the headache he could feel forming behind his eyes.

Ignore those thoughts. They will go away once you feed.

Alastor reminded himself.

They had to. They would. He certainly hadn't been getting the urges to bite Angel - as badly - during this past month. And even if they were there, he couldn't bring himself to. He wouldn't allow himself to ever do that.

But what if you do..

He took a deep breath, trying to push those thoughts back. The room felt dizzy, and his stomach felt uneasy. His throat was tight.

What if you scare him..

He leaned on the sink for support.

What if you hurt him?

His grip on the sink tightened, enough to warrant his knuckles turning white. He squeezed his eyes shut, panic swelling up in his chest. The images of that boy from the hunt flashed in his mind. His pleas to live..the terrified look in his face. The sharp snap as his neck was twisted by Husk.

What if you kil-

He gagged, his saliva dripping into the sink as Alastor took a deeper breath, desperately trying to settle his rolling stomach. The bile in the back of his throat was now rising.

A ringing suddenly filled his ears, snapping him out of it.

He blinked, wondering if he'd begun to slip into insanity. But as he felt something touching his ankle, he looked down, finding the small black kitten sitting on the floor with his cell phone ringing obnoxiously as the kitten held it with it's jaws.

Alastor sighed, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked pale.

He swallowed the ball of saliva in his throat, wiping traces of it from his mouth. He turned to the little kitten, kneeling down and taking the phone from it's mouth. He gave it a small pet on the head as a reward.

Looking at the caller, he quickly answered it; already regretting that he hadn't.

"Good evening, I'm sorry, I was in the restroom." He said, walking into his bedroom.

"Boy, don'tchu dare put up dat phony bologna speech when you talkin' to me. And anotha' thing; if you're in da restroom, unless I try an' facetime ya', answer the damn phone."