Title: Blood Spatter
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Era: Post season 4
Rating: T / FRT
Characters: Angela Petrelli, Peter Petrelli, Sylar
Summary: Peter has an unsettling dream while his latest trouble with a special ability is still fresh in his mind.
Complete. Sequel to “Vampire Syndrome”. Takes place before “Dracula Disorder”
Written for: Heroes_Contest’s (heroes_contest) Drabble Challenge 25: Bloodstains
Warnings: Violence and gore, a word of bad language. Spoilers for season 4.
Beta: Mythra (mythras_fire)
Disclaimer: The show, its characters, its places, and everything else, belong to Tim Kring and the other respective creators and owners of ‘Heroes’. I have made no profit by writing this story, and make no claim over the show.
Feedback: The good, the bad, the ugly – as long as it’s fair, keep it coming.
About Blood Spatter: Peter is known for his… bothersome dreams. Or were those visions? It’s hard to tell ;)
This is a short piece, but it fits well between the other two parts, and I wanted to write something for this Heroes_Contest challenge.
Story and its status: Below you see the writing process of the story. If there is no text after the title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.
Written for Heroes_Contest’s Drabble Challenge 25 (Bloodstains).
Sequel to “Vampire Syndrome”. Takes place before “Dracula Disorder”.
Ever since Nathan was truly gone, Angela had taken it upon herself to give Peter attention worthy of two sons. Usually Peter didn’t mind, unless he had something else to do.
In the aftermath of the accident at the hospital – Peter desperately tried to forget the embarrassing parts involving the burqa – he wasn’t thrilled to see anyone, not even his mother, but Angela had been adamant and Peter didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She just got worse if he offended her by denying her his presence.
But even if he met her for dinner, it didn’t mean Peter was paying attention to her.
“Peter,” she finally said, reaching out to hold his hand, which made Peter raise his eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Peter said automatically. “I’ve been working long hours.”
She nodded, not necessarily buying it, but then, she knew Peter. “Selflessly working for the good of others…”
“It’s what I do, Mom,” he smiled easily and kissed her cheek.
She gave him one of her tired, sad little smiles and told him to go home. They could have dinner another time.
Upon returning home, Peter went to bed very early. He felt tired, and he needed to be fit to go to work tomorrow. He wasn’t going to call in sick for another day if he could be out there, saving lives…
The smell of blood invades his nose like fumes. It fills his head with yearning for more, and his fingers shake as they grab onto the warm flesh. He feels the dampness of blood and his touch slips a little, fingers squeezing harder to hold on. He bows his head for another taste, hunger churning in his stomach. His teeth reach towards the body even before they sink in, and he almost chews before remembering that’s not how it’s done…
Although still warm, the blood is a bit cooler than it was a moment ago, turning sticky. Small rivulets that escape his mouth slide down across his fingers, and he moves to lick them up in an effort to not let any of it escape. He’s almost shaking with ecstasy now, the smell and taste caressing his senses and calming his mind. He was so hungry, but it’s hard to remember it now.
When finally there’s no more, he lets go of the flesh that has turned an ugly ashen color beneath his fingers. The body thuds to the floor, and as he licks his lips, he’s aware that he made a mess in his hurry; the nearby wall is spattered with blood. What a waste. He should be more careful next time.
His stomach growls a little, and he shifts uneasily. The moment of fulfillment is over. He’s getting hungry again. Maybe he should have picked another, someone bigger, but he knows the size does not matter. It’s beginning to feel like he just had appetizers and is now longing for the meal itself.
It will be risky, though. He should be more careful. And he’s running out of time, too; the night is running short. He won’t have enough time to hunt down another…
The knowledge makes him uneasy and his hunger peaks a little, turning painful. The room smells of blood still, and it doesn’t make his hunger any easier to master. He needs more… He looks at the wall and steps closer to it, experimentally licking it. The taste of blood is there, but it’s thin and not nearly enough. Thoughtfully he licks his fingers, trying to catch every drop –
Peter woke up with a start, the pain from biting his own finger jerking him out of the dream.
“Shit,” he whispered, fumbling to turn on the light, then looking at his bleeding digit. He could taste the blood in his mouth. Iron-flavored, so much less pleasant than it was in his dream.
He shuddered. It was so real, all of it. The pain in his finger definitely was real… Peter took a deep breath and sat up, knowing he needed to clear his head because he had to go to work tomorrow.
“Peter?” Sylar had opened his door and was peering in, wearing his t-shirt and shorts. His hair was a bit wild, indicating he had just gotten out of bed – or in his case, the living room couch. “Are you okay?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah. Just a nightmare.”
“What happened to your finger?” Sylar asked.
How the man even noticed, Peter didn’t know. Maybe it was one of those abilities he had…
“I bit it,” Peter said simply.
Sylar raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “How about I warm you some milk?”
“Sounds good,” Peter decided because he wasn’t about to argue at this time of night, and perhaps sitting in the kitchen for a bit, drinking warm milk, would banish the dream from his brain. He did feel kind of thirsty, anyway…