Forever
Chapter Number

Ratings: PG
Warnings: None
Summary:You know there's so many people living in this house, I don't even know their names...
Notes: The first of the donation fics for Pyro. This one is for panthers_anoush who said she didn’t care what I wrote. So I’m hauling out some of my faves from way back.

“You look a little out of place,” said a voice. It was warm and soft, like melted caramel, and had a strange accent that Guthrie couldn’t place. He glanced towards the tall man who had come to stand beside him, offering him a glass of exotic champagne.

“That would be because I feel a little out of place.” Guthrie accepted the champagne and sipped it, tasting a faint flavour of strawberry.

“The house takes a little getting used to,” said the tall man. He slipped a gentle arm around Guthrie, resting his hand on his back. “Eight floors, more below, more people than we can name living here…”

Guthrie normally did not care for being touched, but there was something about this man that made him want to trust him, made him want to stay beside him, and know safety for the first time in his short tragic life.

“You don’t know who is living here? It’s your house.”

“No, that’s not quite true,” said the man, tossing back his long auburn hair. “It is my brother’s house, but I’m not sure even he knows who lives here. In many ways the house is its own entity. It decides who to bring here. Oh, how rude, I have not introduced myself. I am Windsor.”

“Guthrie.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

Guthrie allowed himself to be guided across the ballroom-sized living room, gazing around at the grand furnishings worthy of the halls of a deceased robber baron from centuries ago. There seemed to be no electricity, and the only light was from a few candles mounted into ancient holders on the walls, which were covered in silk and velvet wallpaper. The whole place spoke of an eternity of wealth and dignity, and the air within was almost Elven with the weight of the centuries. These people had been here forever. And they would remain forever.

They walked over to an ancient cage style elevator, stepping into it. Guthrie could not help but notice Windsor seemed vaguely distracted, but not in any unhappy way; though he looked thirty-two at best, Guthrie could tell he was far, far older, and the years had somehow filtered into his soul and lent him a profound peace. Windsor closed the door with a loud clang and pushed a button. The cage began to slowly rise.

“Are you a vampire?” Guthrie asked, and couldn’t think why such a thing had left his mouth. He didn’t believe in vampires, but… in this house it did not seem so outlandish an idea they could exist.

“No but we have them. Three in fact. Vance, Thaddeus, and one more, Haden. Before you begin wearing iron collars to bed, you will be quite relieved to know that vampires have far more control over their urges than movies like to portray. That is how they manage to stay creatures of myth and legend. We have a werewolf too. We even have a fallen deity. He had no name but he likes to call himself Voltaire. He apparently at one point was the god of destiny but now he dwells here and is a self-proclaimed busybody. I’m actually what you would refer to as a ‘space alien’ myself. Which is absurd because I never lived in space, I lived on a planet. I and my two brothers and my husband landed here very long ago. My youngest brother found this house, and here we live.”

Guthrie smiled. “You don’t look like an alien.”

A smile touched Windsor’s full lips. “Hmm… you say that now. But wait until you get to know me a little better.”

“I have so very many questions,” said Guthrie softly as the elevator continued to slowly rise.

“I’m sure you do,” said Windsor softly, his intense green eyes warm with compassion and sympathy. “It’s hard to end up here. This house can only be found after great personal tragedy and much suffering. I think you know all about pain.”

“I do,” said Guthrie. He glanced down at himself, and realized he was still dressed as a whore – torn leather pants, high heeled boots, a mesh shirt… all stretched over a skinny body covered in bruises and filth and needle marks. A frown crossed his pretty face as he pushed his shaggy blonde hair out of his face. “I just realized… I’m not high. And… I don’t have any cravings.”

“You won’t. I mean unless you choose to leave and take up where you left off before the house summoned you. I fear we haven’t any control over that.”

“Am I dead?”

“No one dies here,” said Windsor softly. “This is a place of rest. Not death. It is built upon a liminal, where the curtains between worlds are thin.” The elevator stopped, and the door slid open. “Come. This is the fourth floor. Your room is here.”

“I have a room?”

“All who come here have a place.”

“This house is so beautiful… so elegant! I’ve never been…” Guthrie hid behind Windsor’s large frame, uttering a startled little cry as suddenly a pair of bats the size of Condors shot by so quickly that the wind of their passing pulled on his hair. They darted down the hallway, then suddenly banked and flew down a wide marble staircase. Guthrie gazed after them, shaking, holding onto Windsor’s muscled arm.

“What was that?”

“Vampires,” said Windsor dryly. “They like to think they’re amusing. Unfortunately so do some of our other guests. I fear you’ll end up dealing with a number of eccentrics.”

Guthrie shivered. “I don’t like eccentrics.”

Windsor placed his hand on his back, comforting him. “No of course not,” he said sympathetically. “I don’t blame you. You have been through a great deal. But once you realize that you are safe and you begin to feel better, you will perhaps be a little better disposed towards them.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps. I don’t trust many people. Except you. And… that’s strange because I’ve known you a few minutes at best.”

Windsor smiled. “Well that’s because I am handsome, intelligent and loveable.”

“Uh huh. Modest too.”

“Well it is a burden to be perfect.”

“My heart bleeds for you.” Guthrie had another sip of champagne. “This is delicious. I’ve never had champagne before.”

“That is a very rare variety, though for some reason we never seem to run out. Other supplies we have to find but never good liquor. And the food never seems to run out, either. However… when you go into the fridge in the kitchen please be very careful of any unmarked containers. Or even marked ones. We have three geneticists in the house and… it’s just safer if you look before you eat.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He felt his blue eyes grow large as he saw a tall man step out of a room ahead of them in the hall. He was tall, with dark skin, and intensely blue eyes that were nearly luminous. He was wearing a dark uniform that Guthrie did not recognize, and he exuded an air of power and authority, and of past ages lived. Guthrie took Windsor’s arm between his hands and drew close for protection.

“Who is that?”

“That would be my husband. Lovely, isn’t he?”

“Why do I feel like I’m about to be demoted and I’m not even in the military?”

The tall dark man walked over to Windsor, touching his face and kissing him softly. They nuzzled one another, and whispered to each other in a strange tongue Guthrie had never heard. The man cast Guthrie a disinterested look, then walked away, Windsor gazing after him.

“Magnificent, isn’t he?”

“Damned scary is more like it.”

“Yes well you don’t make General by being cuddly.” Windsor smiled dreamily. “Except with your favourite subordinate.”

“I’m not ever really sure what that means but it sounds like too much information.”

“Sorry. We came here long ago to save his life. We gave up everything we had to be together. I feared at first I would love him less once all the drama was over, but the truth is I love him more now that we do not have to live in fear.”

“Sounds like a fascinating story.”

“I’ll share it with you some day. I think it is but then again I am in it, so I am biased.”

Guthrie smiled. “I’d still love to hear it. I wanted to be a write once upon a time. I love fascinating stories.”

“Well that’s the lovely thing about being here,” said Windsor. “Now you can be. Here we are.” They stopped outside an enormous door, elegantly and intricately carved with draperies of flowers gilded in gold. “This is your room.”

Guthrie stared at the door, once more clinging onto Windsor’s arm, frightened. “What will I find in there?”

“I don’t know. It’s your room. Nothing goes in there that you don’t want.”

“And you’re sure I’m not dead?”

“Quite sure. You’re very much alive.”

Guthrie nodded, but couldn’t seem to make himself let go of Windsor’s arm just yet. He felt his knees shake. “I’m so afraid.”

“Don’t be,” said Windsor softly. “There is nothing frightening here.” He gently extracted himself from Guthrie’s grasp. “Breakfast is at nine if you care to come downstairs to the formal dining hall and meet some of the other inhabitants in the morning. We don’t stand much on ceremony here, so do not concern yourself if you’re not up to it.”

Guthrie nodded, then reached out to open the door, drawing a quiet gasp as he saw the chamber that lay beyond. His blue eyes shone, and he smiled.

“It’s so beautiful! It’s what I’ve always wanted my house to look like, if I had a house. This is large enough to be a house.”

“It’s an apartment, really. There are several rooms. All yours.”

Guthrie looked up at Windsor. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I did nothing.”

The door across the hall opened, and out stepped a rather small man, with fair skin and long black hair. He was dressed in close fitting jeans and a baggy sweater, and his eyes were a strange shade of reddish-gold.

“Windsor can I trouble you for just a minute to…? Oh. Hello.” He smiled at Guthrie. “Hi. You’re new.”

“Hello Haden,” said Windsor. “This is Guthrie. You and he are going to be neighbours.”

Haden smiled, not bothering to try to hide his impressive fangs. He stepped across the hall to extend his small white hand to Guthrie. “Welcome to the Frank Place.”

Guthrie took Haden’s hand, eyes fixed on his beautiful face. “Frank Place?”

“Well that’s what we call it. It belongs to Frank, it’s his place, ergo…”

“The Frank Place,” said Guthrie. “Got it.”

Haden smiled, then backed up, suddenly becoming shy as he realized Guthrie was staring. Guthrie himself realized a moment later and also drew back, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“Well aren’t the both of you just precious,” said Windsor.

“Bite me, space alien,” said Haden. “By the way, do you have a moment to look at my stereo? The speakers died again, I have no idea what’s wrong.”

“Very well.” Both Windsor and Haden looked to Guthrie. “Would you like to join us?” asked Windsor. “We usually end up making a horrid mess, getting drunk and then finally getting my husband to fix it.”

Guthrie glanced at Haden, and this time felt himself blush like a timid virgin… something he had not been in far too long.

“Sure, sounds like fun.”

“Great!” Haden reached out and took Guthrie’s wrist. “Come on! I’ll finally have someone new to bore with my antique porcelain!”

“Oh I can hardly wait!” said Guthrie dryly.

“Well what do you want, I died in the seventeen hundreds when there was a deplorable lack of video games.”

“Then porcelain will have to do,” said Guthrie.

Haden smiled at him, and Guthrie felt his weary heart within him smile a little as well. Together the three went into Haden’s room, and there they stayed for hours. It was the first time Guthrie laughed in what seemed like forever.

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008 Alyx Shaw