slayers_desire | kidnapped by Demons: the rescue

"Did your parents know that I was gone?" Is her first question. Then her second. "What? Why?"

He nods. "I told them someone had you. I didn't give them any details."

He looks a little uncertain, unsure of himself. "I was thinking about taking a full scholarship to Metropolis University. But I would've had to lie on every physical, and I would've been cheating. I would've been tempted to use my abilities to win. And there are no more games this year anyway. And... it just didn't seem as important anymore." He's still going to miss it, he's sure. And he's going to regret not being able to play in college. But next to what he's been having to think about these past few days, he doesn't care right now. It's just a game.

((Must go sleep now, but holy cow, this thread's gone really well and really far in one night.))

"I am glad they knew somewhat. I am sure they were able to help you deal with any worrying." Because Clark is good at worrying. Just like April.

She strokes his hair, listening to explain his decision. "That was very noble of you Clark. And you could still play, even if not professional."

"And no matter what... you are still my football hero."

((No kidding! Looking forward to more in the morning))

"They did their best. They helped come up with a story for what happened to the old oak on Route Eight when I got mad and punched it. It's... kind of not really there anymore." It's a bit of an understatement. One blow sheared the tree off its stump, exploding it into kindling. A massive two hundred year old tree.

"I can play for fun," he agrees softly. "Just not for money. It wouldn't be right."

He smiles a little when she mentions him being her hero. More than anything else, that was what he was today, although football didn't have anything to do with it. And while he can't understand people who become heroes for the glory, saving her and kicking ass made him feel really, really good.

"You destroyed a tree with your worry and anger? Oh Clark..." April chuckled softly. She is enjoying being in his arms and stroking his hair lightly.

"And I bet that you were amazing when you arrived here."

"Well, at least we'll have plenty of firewood for the next few years." Now that she's safe, it's a little easier to find the funny side in that. "Sometimes I split logs by hand when I'm upset, this was just a little bigger." And by a little he means a lot.

"I never let you go. Not even when they tried to rush me and kill me." And a vaguely amusing thought flits through his head, that he beat them with one arm tied behind his back. "Training with you, before, it helped me defeat them. You helped me save you." He wants her to know that she isn't just some helpless damsel in distress, always needing to be rescued by the hero. And while he did storm a castle and take on the Scourge single-handedly, swooping in and rescuing his love, he didn't do it alone.

"We should have a big camp fire, invite some of your friends, sings corny campout songs, eat smores." April just wants something normal right now. It is why she is not going to stop stroking his hair for a while.

"You never did?" She sounds amazed at that. Almost can visualize him taking on the army with her in his arms. And when he mentions the training helped, it does help her feel that she was useful.

The last thing April wants is to feel that she is just a damsel in distress for Clark. He certainly has enough of those in his life.

"You helped me hold on." She whispered. "Everytime he tried to coerce me, I remembered your strength. That you were coming for me."

"That sounds great." He hasn't had any sort of gathering like that before, and it's something he doesn't have to invite only those in on the secret to. "We should definitely do that sometime."

"Never," he promises. "I didn't take my hands off of you until they were all gone. And I only left you long enough to run to Rome to get James." People living along his thousand mile path will be wondering for ages what that sonic boom was.

Just as she is glad to hear that she helped him, he's relieved to hear that he helped her, even when he wasn't there. "I'm just sorry it took so long."

"Sure I only get manhandled by you when I am unconscious." April attempts a flirtatious joke.

"I am sorry you had to wait so long to come for me." If he can apologize for something that was not his fault, so can she.

If she can try the flirtation route so soon, he can give it a shot too. "I'd be happy to give you an encore later." It also gives him more hope that what the general said was a lie. And from what he'd said before he knew Clark was there, he gets the feeling that maybe he arrived just in time.

"It's okay. You did your part, hanging on and waiting for me. And making sure I knew what I needed to know to save you." The sparring, the spell, the bar, and James. All pieces of the puzzle, assembled in haste but completed.

"Oh goodie, I adore encores." If Clark were to ask, April would be quick to reassure him that the General did not touch her in that way. And April would not know this, but Clark did arrive just in time.

"You did wonderful, saving me as you did. I am so grateful for you."

Clark may not ask now, or soon, or even ever. But the more he sees her reactions, the better he feels about it. And the less he feels he needs to ask.

He smiles at her gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Then he frowns a little as the events of the day finally start catching up with him. "I PINpointed out of a crowded bar. Did I just put James in any danger?" The Pockla demon was so helpful, so instrumental to saving her, and it would be a poor repayment of his assistance if being taken out of the bar like that leads to hostilities against him. And Clark hasn't even remembered to thank him yet. Or take him back.

"We worked well as a team." April settles with that. It had both been her and him. And she feels that they could face so much more in the same way.

"Oh no, I don't think so. Demons have a habit of teleporting away all the time," April reassured him. "And few demons would hurt a Pockla. Not with their purpose in the demon world."

Clark's body is still winding down from all the tension, soothed by having her, whole and healthy, in his arms. And he relaxes a little more when she tells him he didn't do wrong. "Good. I think I interrupted his lunch though." Something he'd barely paid attention to at the time. And now he feels that he can trust him for sure, because why else would he being unhesitating to drop his meal and come when called?

And as he begins to replay the events of the last hour or two, he's becoming more aware that he's still smeared with traces of her blood, dried and brown on his arms, still reddish and damp on his blue shirt. And he doesn't know where his jacket's disappeared to. Not that he's worried; it's beyond saving and there's nothing to do but burn it anyway.

"How are you feeling?" Her injuries may be healed, but he knows it will take time for her to recover. And anything else he can do to help her is welcome after his long forced idleness.

"Physically I am fine." April is still a little amazed at how quickly James worked. She feels no strain on her body.
But notes the blood on his shirt. "Is that mine?"

"Mentally... I keep replaying everything. Trying to figure out what I could have done differently. And why me... why did he take me."

"Yes." It's not as much as was on her, or as much as is now forever soaked into his jacket, but there's still a good deal of it. "You... there was a lot."

He hugs her just a little tighter, presses a kiss to her forehead, glad that this time she doesn't taste of sweat and blood, just April. Wishes he could say something to take her doubts and fears away. "I don't know. But he isn't going to hurt you ever again. I promise you that." His one regret is that he didn't spend more time beating the demon before knocking him unconscious. He didn't suffer nearly enough to satisfy the darker side of Clark, but that satisfaction would have ended only with death.

"And physically?"

"You should take off the shirt. The Lister could clean it for you. They promised to return my clothing to me too." Not that she minds the white dress she is wearing, but it fits a little snugly in some places.

"It might take me a while to replenish my enhanced abilities. I doubt I could walk even right now. It has just been... days since I ate. The blood helped. But..." April sighs. "I still feel weak."

"I don't know if this is coming out. I may have to just burn it." He doesn't sound too upset about it. Destruction of his clothing is something that he doesn't blink twice at anymore, it happens so often. He does figure he should probably wash his arms and hands, at least. But he's reluctant to let go of her long enough to go do that. Even though he knows that she's safe, that no one remains in the castle who wants to harm her.

"Do you need more blood? I'm sure they could get some more, if you need it. They seem eager to help." And he appreciates them for it even more all the while.

"A little more would help." She softly admits. The embarrassment of her vampiric nature making her fidget slightly.

Clark pretends not to notice her fidgeting. If he treats it as normal, accepts it as normal, maybe she'll be more comfortable about that side of her, or of showing it to him. He loves her for all of her, not just the bits that aren't gross. He needs sun. She needs blood. It's as simple as that.

He eases away from her, getting up to go look for the nearest Lister demon. And somewhere to wash up. But before he goes, he kisses her, as if trying to reassure her once more. "I'll be right back."

As Clark eases away from her, April keeps a lingering touch on him. And the kiss protects her tears from falling quickly.

"I know you will." Slowly she is getting used to feeding in front of him. His needing the sun is a little different than her requiring blood. Its messy. And most people are uncomfortable about it. But she has noted Clark has not been reacting in grossness when she does it.

So soon after getting her back, seeing her awake and okay, it's hard to walk away from her. Even knowing that she's safe and protected, and that his senses are still trained on the room, still keeping watch over her.

He seeks out the nearest Lister, relaying April's need for nourishment and asking that someone stay in the room with her, keeping her company until he can return. And then he finds somewhere to wash the blood from his arms, his hands, his chest and abdomen where it soaked through his shirt. He moves quickly, efficiently, not wanting to be away from her side longer than necessary.

When he returns, the Lister had provided April with another bag of blood, and had laid out a cotton shirt on the bed for Clark to wear.

Once they are alone again, April feeds from her blood and finds further strength. "The Lister seem happy."

Clark burned his own shirt in the sink, incinerating it with heat vision, finding it pointless to put it back on and reabsorb the blood onto his skin. So when he comes back, he's shirtless and much cleaner, and gratefully slips on the provided shirt.

He sits down on the edge of the bed again, close enough that his thigh and hip are resting alongside her body, and he gently rubs her arm as she feeds. "They were slaves, weren't they?" It's an odd thought, that he not only rescued his love, but he also freed an oppressed people today. And it's definitely not a bad one.

April rests her head on his upper shoulder, finding no more embarrassment about feeding in front of him. His warmth is nice too.

"They were. Those that didn't work in the castle, lived in a concentration camp of sorts. The Scourge were killing them slowly. Enjoying the pain that they had inflicted on the Lister and their families."

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