echolls_cursed | One Year Later AU

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One Year Later AU

After six months in New York, Logan couldn't say he was that thrilled to be back in LA. Not that New York had been fantastic either, though the change of diet had been nice. People out there tasted better. Fresher. Less like fake tan and carrot juice and more like good wine and stake.

He'd only been back a day though, and the fact that he was already bored out of his mind was a bad sign. Sure, he'd upgraded to a better hotel with a bigger room and better staff who could better serve his needs (nothing better than a hotel run by a fellow Vampire to call home), and yeah, after his latest business venture he had more money than he'd need for the next three decades or so... But he was bored. Bored of LA. Bored of everything. Maybe it was time to try somewhere new.

Europe has always been very vamp friendly, or so he'd been told, and he wondered what Italy was like this time of year.

An older man came to stand beside him, leaning against the bar and looking him over. Human, late thirties, good health... and a stake in his coat pocket. Thrill killer. There was always one that snuck into the club, if it wasn't this guy, it would be someone else. When he reached out and stroked Logan's cheek, Logan smirked, tilting his head and playing the role of naive young blood. Five minutes later and they were in one of the back rooms... ten minutes later and Logan was back at the bar, blood on his shirt and the wooden stake sitting next to his beer like a trophy.

Hunters weren't like the rest of LA. They tasted just fine.

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"I don't want your money," I laugh, finding my coat thrown across the couch and shrugging it on. "You talk about Joe being such a hard ass. Burning you with crosses and shit. Reeling you in and hurting you, then tossing you away? I think I'd rather have that. At least it's something."

"Maybe you should look him up then," Logan replied, looking annoyed. "And Joe never tossed me away. Joe... I could go back to him any time I wanted. Don't act like you know me. You don't know shit about me, alright?"

"Yeah, that's great, but who the fuck do I go back to?" I snort. Fucking nobody, that's who. I haven't even let myself go near Wendy for fear of what I might do. Guess some things just don't get erased after you die. "And from what I can tell, there's not much to know."

"Not my problem," Logan shrugged. "And where are you going?" he asked. "It'll be daylight soon. Hell, it might be already. And even if it were night, like you have any way of getting home."

"Half hour 'til daylight. It's really not all that hard to time it. I mean, Jesus, can't you feel it?" I say, giving him a look, "There's a guest center not too far, right? I can head there, call for a car from there. I'm pretty sure tripping into a ditch and frying when the sun comes up is preferable to this. And it is your fucking problem. You made me like this. Take some fucking responsibility, for fuck's sake. I mean, Jesus, why do you think he always lets you come back to him? It sure as hell isn't for your winning personality."

"What the hell do you want then?" Logan snapped. "Jesus. Stop... stop bitching and fucking do something. Grow a pair you asshole. You know why he takes me back? Cause I don't take no for an answer. I'm not a little bitch like you. For all the times Joe's pushed me, hurt me... fucked me. Well, trust me that it goes both ways. I've had him up against a wall, begging for my cock. I've had him under me in bed, and I've fought him anytime he acted like he didn't have time for me. I fought for what I have with him."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm just waiting for you to show me something worth fighting for," I say, coat hanging half off my shoulders when I step up close to him again, jaw set angrily. Practically shaking with it.

"What more do you want from me?" Logan asked. "The last time wasn't enough for you? I... I fucking worshiped you those first few months!"

"You worshiped me?" I say, barking out a laugh, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Whatever," Logan said. "Just go then. Just... go."

"No," I answer simply, "Too late. You're right, I won't make it." I take another step toward him, having to tip my head back to meet his eyes, "When have you ever worshiped anything? You don't know what that means."

Close enough to smell him now. "You know that bitter taste of pain... Loss. Regret. Disappointment. All that shit. That swell of it that hits your tongue from the ones that know they're gonna die and they've wasted their whole pathetic life? You're covered in that. I can smell it from here. I'm some fucking pathetic streetwalker? What are you?"

Push, push back. Push push push and nothing fucking happens, but eventually, I figure, somebody's gotta break.

"You think I don't know that?" Logan asked, the tough facade he held onto so tightly starting to crack a little under Neil's words. "You want to know what I am? I'm the guy who fell in love with a girl, only to lose her before she had her skull bashed in. I'm the guy no one wanted around. No one gave a damn about. I'm the guy who let his father beat the shit out of him because it was at least better than being completely ignored. The guy who didn't see the signs before his mother killed herself. ...The guy who begged for a life he'd never really even enjoyed. That's who I am. I smelled of death long before it ever took me. I smelled of it before Joe found me... before he gave me this. And fuck, I never wanted this. I spent years looking for death, and when it finally found me, this happened. I finally got what I'd been looking for, I finally found someone with the balls to kill me, only to get stuck living for fucking eternity... Or at least until someone decides to dust me."

I listen to him, wavering between something almost like sympathy and annoyance. Anger and pain. Everything's fucked, with him and me, and it pissed me off that he's supposed to be the teacher, the one with experience, when he's just as lost and clueless as I am.

But all that shit, not the details but the rest of it... maybe, just maybe I understand. 'Cause most of me's felt dead since I was eight years old.

I listen to him, silent, face blank, and then I curl my hand around the back of his neck and yank him down into a kiss. Hard and biting and painful, but somehow weirdly careful at the same time. Putting all of it out on the table for him to see.

Logan nearly jerked away, nearly just pulled back to backhand the other boy.

But he didn't.

Instead he returned the kiss with a hunger and a need he hadn't realized he had inside of himself. He held on tightly, pouring the few feelings he still had hidden under all the crap into the kiss as he pressed up closer.

The intensity of it startles me. It's not something he's ever given me, not this much of it anyway, and it's hard not to stumble back... to cower under all that force. But instead, I press up into it, returning every fucking bit of it, nails clawing at his back and my fingers sweeping up to bury themselves in his hair. Teeth and tongue and this impossible warmth. Folks like us don't get the luxury of warm kisses very often.

Logan pulled back with just as much force as he'd leaned in with, staring at the other boy and then turning away with a pained look.

"If you're leaving. I'll call you a car."

"Fuck that. I'm not going anywhere," I breathe out, fingers clamping around his wrist and pulling him around to face me.

"Why?" Logan asked seriously. "You think I'm gonna change, Neil? You think that maybe I won't be such a a bastard tomorrow or the day after?"

"No, I'm not fucking stupid," I snort, "but you were right. I know how you are, and I came here anyway, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Logan sighed. "Yeah, you did."

"So, I'm not going," I say, "Deal with it."

"I didn't want you to go in the first place," Logan snapped.

"Well, now you're getting what you want," I point out, slipping away from him and heading back toward the bedroom without another word.

Logan watched, and then looked a little annoyed as he followed. He was really tired of walking in circles.

I'm out of my coat and boots by the time I make it through the door, stripping out of my shirt again and sprawling out on the bed with my hands folded behind my head, like none of that other shit ever happened.

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