Self Discipline

Once his face was washed, Dagaz proceed to wipe the rest of the blood from his hands as best as he was able. Pulling his phone from his pocket carefully so as not to drop it, he set about checking his reflection in the devices front camera for any stray flecks of blood that may have escaped the water.

He scrubbed away at his skin, but no matter how hard he scoured, how much soap he used or how hot he ran the water from the faucet, he could still feel it on him, could still feel the taint of another man's life staining his hands. He'd had blood on them before, both literally and figuratively, but he'd never killed until now, never snuffed out a life and watched the glow in another person’s eyes fade until there was nothing but an empty mirror staring back at you. He wasn't sure if he was more repulsed by the act that he had committed, or at just how easy he had found it to do. There had been no hesitation when he'd crossed the line from witness to murderer, no negotiation to avoid the inevitable outcome, and no mercy given when he had acted. Judge, jury, executioner appointed by no one but himself, and answerable to only to this enigmatic 'Masquerade.'

Dagaz knew that he could feed without killing, he'd proven it to himself when he'd first drunk from Ava what seemed like years ago back on the rooftop of his home. He'd managed to stop himself before he'd snuffed out her life, and he was thankful that he had. In the brief time he'd known her, he'd come to care for her deeply. Perhaps it was because she'd been with him the night of his Embrace, perhaps it was to do with the fact they'd shared blood. Perhaps she was his anchor to his Humanity. Was it only a few days ago they first met!? It felt like an odyssey to his soul, and he feared the toll the nights to come would wreck on his already fragile morality. Tonight he'd knew he'd crossed a line. In fact the line was so far back in he distance it was little more than a blur on the horizon at this point, with him speeding away from it without looking back.

In that moment, he swore to himself that if he didn't have to take a life, then he would do everything in his power to avoid doing so. Despite the new nature of his existence, he didn't want to be a killer. There must be other ways to do things surely, otherwise why weren't there bodies turning up all over the place every time a Supernatural creature fed or picked a fight. Which begged another question — if the city had a big enough population of Supernatural to warrant this bar existing, just how many of their kind existed?

Morginn wasn't like him, he'd already worked that out and she'd confirmed it herself. So that was two type of Supes he already knew about; Vampires and whatever yet unknown species she was. There seemed to be no animosity between the two of them, either from the simple fact that they had shared a mutual kill, or perhaps their two species co-existed happily. He greatly hoped it was the later, he'd hate to run into more of her kind unaware if they did turn out to be hostile.

Lost in his thoughts, he was oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps falling behind until the moment he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. Startles at the sudden interruption to the thoughts he'd been lost in, he spun around, suppressing the urge to flash his teeth at whoever had disturbed him. The art of self control was something that would require a great deal of practice obviously.

"Hey dude, you lost? How you get back here, this is staff only."

Spinning towards the voice, Dagaz desperately fought for enough self control to not involuntarily strike out, his mind battling his limbs for control. 'Not a threat, not a threat.' He was so on edge, jumpy from the nights events that his adrenaline was still coursing through his system fueling his fight or flight responses, and it seemed flight was no longer recognised as a viable option. Perhaps he somehow sensed that the hand toughing him wasn't a threat, on some level.

He reached out his hand to lean on the man, had been planning to feign drunkenness despite the fact his breath probably smelled more of blood than booze by now, but hesitated. He had rinsed his mouth out at the sink in an effort to rid his taste buds of the foul aftertaste of the skinhead's sweat, but the coppery taste of his blood still lingered. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the other man and spoke, pouring every ounce of effort he could muster into the word.

"Leave."

When they man's expression went blank, Dagaz was more than a little stunned. When he moments later turned and began walking away without a glance back or a word spoken in protest, Dagaz nearly peeded himself in surprise.

Hooo-ly shit. What was that?

Not in his wildest dreams had he expected that to have actually worked. He'd hoped telling the man to leave would come across as a subtle threat — instead he had taken it as a command. More than that, he'd actually acted on and done what Dagaz had told him.

Did I just make him follow my command? Can we do that? Damn.

If it was true, he though this would have some serious possibilities. Yet even as he toyed with the ideas of what this newly discovered skill could do, he found his mind wandering back to the fight earlier. If he'd have known he could sway people with a word, would the situation have ended differently than it had done. Could he have avoided being involved in the deaths of three men, regardless of how abhorrent they may have have been, they were still entitled to be allowed to life.

The more he replayed the scene in his head, the more he came to the realisation that even if he had of been able to command them to leave, what was to have stopped them doing the same thing to another poor girl on a mother night. Their behaviour had been pre-meditated, his hadn't. His was the product of instinct, theirs had been a conscious choice to act in that manner. They had gotten what was coming to them as far as he was concerned.

No unhindered, he was able to make his way successfully through the kitchen and found the door Morginn had mentioned that let back out into the main part of the club. Scouting around, not an easy thing to do considering how many bodies were packed into the space, he searched for Ava and Cayla. They were nowhere to be seen.

'How long does it take two women to go to the toilet!'

He wasn't actually that angry though, they delay had actually mean things had actually worked in his favour. Fortuitously, if he was out before them they wouldn't wonder where he'd been, wouldn't even know he'd gone anywhere, which meant he wouldn't have to spin more lies to cover his ass.

The missed call on his phone was from a number he didn't recognize. It could have been Cayla, although why Ava would have given her his number rather that call him directly didn't make much sense, and it was too loud in the club to have made calling the number back worthwhile, so he settled for simply hammering out a text to his date with his thumbs and hitting send.

Waiting where we parked.

Come meet me whenever the two of your are finished in the Ladies. Not waiting all night though, we have a long drive home. I promise to play nice with Cayla on the ride.

Still thinking about the pictures you sent me!

-x-

Whilst he waited for a reply, he idly flicked through the pictures she'd sent him, studying each in turn and marvelling at just what a truly spectacular body she had.

He didn't have to wait long for a reply to flash up across the screen, his message tone beeping with an almost comical loudness against the silence of the late evening. He turned it to the max volume inside the club, and had forgotten to turn it back to normal due to everything that had been going. He switched the phone back to vibrate, and slipped it back into his pocket.

Won't be long. There was a que, soz. Don't leave with out us, k. Btw Cayla says hi. X

Sitting in the car, he waited for at least another twenty minutes, the first ten spent patiently. The second ten were spent a little less so, party because he was all to aware that he would now be racing against the sunrise in order to make it home, but also because he was just an impatient man. The temptation to drive away only crosses his mind a single time, but the fact that he felt a little responsible towards Ava, towards his, what was it Morginn had called them — Thrall —that he simply wasn't prepared to leave her. She was his, and he'd be damned if he would abandon her the way he had been.

He saw the two girls appear at the entrance to the club, saw Ava pointing towards the car, either trying to catch his attention or pointing him out to Cayla, and took in every magnificent inch of them as they walked towards him. If what was left of the evening went the way he suspected it would, he was a very lucky man. And if it didn't, at least he'd have breakfast waiting conveniently for him when he woke.

Ava slipped into the front seat calling shotgun, leaving Cayla to squeeze herself into the incredibly cramped backseat, not an easy thing to do wearing a dress a figure-hugging as the one she was wearing. As they pulled away, Dagaz noticed Ava kept casting her eyes up to the rear-view mirror to steal glances as their passenger, and couldn't help but notice the looks passing between them.

"So, Cayla..." Dagaz had realised that aside from the few brief sentences they'd exchanged back on the dance floor, he didn't have much of an idea of who exactly he was in the process of driving back to his apartment. "Are you a regular at the club?

He heard the sound of rummaging, saw her hunting for something in her purse. She pulled out a small compact, and began to fix her lipstick. "On and off you know, it really depends on the music that’s playing. My ex used to play there with their band, and I just kind of became a regular I guess."

"Anyone I might have heard of?" he asked, trying to keep the small-talk going. "He some kind of big star?"

She snapped he compact shut viciously. "She."

Uh oh, it sounded like he'd just caught a grenade and discovered the pin was missing. Or hit a nerve. Either way just as explosive.

"She decided that she was hitting the road, without me I might add, and didn't think to tell me until she'd already left. Bitch took my money, took my car, took my damn heart with her too..."

Abort, abort!

His brain and self preservation instincts screamed at him to steer the conversation in a different direction before he hit one of the conversational mines this topic was bound to have scattered about. But it did go a long way towards explaining why she had been so into Ava on the dance floor, she was rebounding, and rebounding hard from the sounds of it. In the seat next to him, Ava was sitting there listening intently, but didn't seem particularly surprised at this information. Dagaz assumed she'd already heard some of this before from the sympathetic looks she was giving her new friend. Despite his brain still screaming at him to steer clear,he decided to attempt a little damage control instead, but was beaten to the punch.

"You're better off without her sweetie." she said, somehow managing to not make the words sound as cliché as they could have been considering the phrase 'You're better off without them' being pretty much the almost universal thing people said to comfort their friend after a break-up.

Putting his hand on hers over the gearstick, Dagaz echoed her sentiments. "Ava's right. Plus, if it had never happened, you wouldn't have been at the club tonight. And I for one am glad you were there."

"Me too," said Ava backing him up cheerfully, and a little drunkardly. "Hic."

"Hey, did you too sneak back to the bar after powering your noses?"

"No comment." That came from Cayla in a very conspiratorial sounding tone of voice from the backseat where she was currently trying to make herself comfy despite the lack of space available.

"Nooo. Well maybe a little." Ava held out her thumb and finger a touch apart. "Bout, hic, that little. Mebee a bit more. Hey Cayla, did we drink that much?"

There was no answer to be had from her accomplice in the back of the car, save a gentle snoring sound as despite all odds, Cayla had somehow managed to find the softest spot of the interior against which to rest her head, and was currently snoozing gently away to herself. As if taking a hint from her, Ava gently rested her head against Dagaz's own shoulder sleepily, who could see how tired she was. Either the drinks, or the nights excursions had worn her out to the point of exhaustion.

"It's OK, sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there."

Notes:

Well here it is for those of you that know anything about VtM, the first use of Disciplines in the story. For those of you that aren't familiar with the term, things will be explained as the story progresses so don't worry.

As always though, check the updates Chapter for any story wise changes you may have missed, and if you've enjoyed what you've read, please, please leave me comments and feedback. If I don't know what works for you guys, I can't adapt.