Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, LKH does

The Death of Death

Montana

Montana-holyfield@juno.com

A/N: This is set after Obsidian Butterfly.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, LKH does. Lucky Duck. And i'm not making any money either. nice try.

RING! RING! RING A LING A LING A LING!!!!! I jolted awake to the insistent sound of the phone ringing. I answered the damn thing, fighting not to shout, “What the Hell do you want?” into the receiver. Instead I settled for a more civil, even if grumbled, “Hello?”

“Anita, this is Donna.” Her voice sounded meek, small, and haggard. Maybe even, for lack of a better word, beaten. Her tone alarmed me, and seemed to wake me up like a super caffeine pill.

The immediate question that popped into my mind was, “What’s wrong, Donna? Is Ed—Ted ok? Are the kids ok?” It was obvious what my priorities were.

“How did you know? Did you hear?” She sniffed, and I realized why. She had been crying.

“No, what happened?” Panic was leaking into my voice. I had a feeling Donna was about to break out something bad.

“It’s Ted.” Shit. Something had happened to Edward.

“What about Ted?” I calmly asked, trying to pry the information from her. I could hear hiccupping sobs beginning on the other end. Damn it.

“Calm down, Donna. Now what happened to Ted?”

Donna blew out a deep breath, taking back control over her breathing. She finally managed to get out the words that made my blood run cold: “Ted’s dead, Anita.”

Edward? Dead? Surely not. There had to be a catch. Some trick, some folly in the logic of this. Edward killed things. He didn’t get killed.

“How, Donna? What actually happened?”

“We don’t know, exactly,” she choked out. “They found his body, out in the desert. He had been on a werewolf hunt. They found…they found pieces of him. He was torn apart. Even you might not have known it was him. But I knew when I saw him. I knew it was Ted.” She started to sob again over the phone. There was only a moment for a thread of anger to well up inside of me from her still jealous games, before the true meaning of this reached out and slapped me across the face. Edward was dead.

My hand convulsed around the phone, going from gripping it so hard the plastic creaked, to almost dropping it to the floor next to the bed. My heart sped up, almost to the point of panic. But no tears came. No. Not while I was on the phone with Donna.

I heard her calm down once again, her breathing slowing. “I just called to tell you that the funeral is in two days. You should come down for the memorial service. We cremated the body, just like he wanted.” That was Edward, always thorough. Never leaving anything behind. That is, besides a grieving fiancé and two of her kids. And me. What category did I fit into? Friend? Best friend? Comrade in arms? Partner? Fellow preternatural baddie hunter? Soul mate? There were too many labels to even think of that fit Edward and I. Pretty much the only one that didn’t fit was lovers.

“I’ll be there,” I said to Donna. I wouldn’t just be paying tribute to the deceased bounty hunter though. There were many other identities that would go with it. Death. The Undertaker. Edward. Edward. “Give me your number, Donna. I’ll call you for details when I get into Sante Fe tomorrow.”

She gave me the number. We hung up. And only when I had closed the long distance connection with Donna did I allow the tremors run through my body, and the silent tears stream down to moisten the pillow I held to me in a desperate death grip. I wanted this to all just be a dream. I wanted Edward back. I wouldn’t care if it was even to pop through my bedroom doorway and point a gun at me. I wanted him back, more than anything, maybe even more than my mother. There was this immense feeling of…of…I don’t know. Of emptiness. Thinking he was dead. It was almost as if it left a scar on my soul. Maybe he really was my soul mate.

Since my mother’s death, I had never felt so empty, and so needy. But why? It was true that Edward and I were friends, but I didn’t love him. I didn’t. Right? Doubt mixed in with the remorse. It wasn’t a good broth. Did I love Edward? In my own little way, like you know you love a great friend, but don’t really notice it until they’re gone? God, I did. No one, not a single person on this earth, had ever understood me like Edward did. And now he was gone. Boy, do I know how to pick ‘em.

I eventually fell asleep, only giving myself over to a night of tumultuous dreams about Death. We hunted together. We killed again, as the perfect team. In some of the dreams he died in the end. Or I died in the end. I only remembered one where we stayed alive. I remembered kissing him. It was gentle, just the touching of lips, and I held him to me, as if he hadn’t passed on to the land of the dead.

Then I woke up. It was 10:00 in the morning. I didn’t know what time Donna had called. It had either been late late at night, or early early in the morning. But I had a plane to catch. I packed my bags. I started thinking about what could be so dangerous to actually take down Edward, and I packed my weapons too. I might be helping the cops with a were hunt after the memorial service. I bought the plane ticket over the phone, and went on my way. Look out, Sante Fe, here I come.

***

The memorial service sucked. I cried, more than I would have liked. Maybe more than Edward would have liked. But I couldn’t help it. They were just the type of tears that I didn’t have the power to stop. Then I thought about what Edward would do if he could see me bawling for him like that. I imagined his slight smirk, so infuriating, but so sexy at the same time. Sexy? I had never thought about it like that before. But it was He was. Maybe I could only admit to that now, to myself, now that Edward was gone and there was no chance in hell it would come back to kick me in the ass.

I stayed with Donna and the kids afterward, holding her hand. And still, after I was being so nice, she still had to slip in snide little things, emphasizing how close she and “Ted” had been. How I had no idea what it was like to stroke his hair every night as he slept and then BOOM he wasn’t there anymore. I wondered if she felt an ache inside of her, empty of a piece of herself, like I did.

I played dolls with Becca a little bit. She had a Ken doll in a cowboy shirt, jeans and boots, and a white cowboy hat that she called Ted. She said she had had dreams about him. About the night that werewolf had broken in and killed her real father. It wasn’t Peter who killed the wolf, it was Ted. She had seen him as her protector, and now he was gone. But she was a strong kid. Stronger than her mother. She would be alright. I would too. I jut had to keep telling myself that. I also talked to Peter. He was going to miss Edward, but admitted he was glad his position of man of the house would not be revoked by the pesky event of his mother getting married.

I returned back to my hotel room around 9:00 at night, haggard and tired. My eyes burned, but I wouldn’t cry any more tonight. I just didn’t have any tears left. It was like the night Richard shifted on top of me, and I ran to Jean-Claude. I had cried myself dry that night. I wonder what Jean-Claude would think about me up and leaving once again, venturing into unknown vampire territory. He wouldn’t be too happy. I could care less. He had been pissing me off more and more lately. When we weren’t having sex, we were fighting. The same with Richard. I was getting sick of it.

After a very quick shower, I changed into my pajamas, an oversize penguin t-shirt and panties. I immediately hit the bed, tired from the awful day. But it was just one day, there were many more I would have to face without my other half. I fell asleep with the thought: I wonder what I would do if I ever saw Edward again?

Something startled me in the middle of the night, jolting me awake. My fingers closed around the butt of the Browning Hi-power under my pillow before I could really think about it, and I had it trained near the window, on a dark figure that hadn’t been there when I fell asleep. “After all this, are you going to shoot me, Anita?” asked a dangerously amused voice that I knew so well.

The barrel of the Browning dropped, now pointed at the ground. I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. But oh God, please don’t let this be some cruel hoax. “Edward?” I asked, astonished, disentangling myself from the covers and setting the browning on the nightstand. I walked towards him slowly, not sure. He stepped into the moonlight, allowing me to see, and a thrill of relief and adrenalin rushed all through my body.

“I always wondered if you would cry for me at my funeral,” he said with that infuriating half smile. His blond hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, a complete contrast to the rest of his black-clad self. All of his clothes were in his favorite monotone color, right down to the leather duster that swept his ankles. “And now I know.”

I reached him, and that remark managed to piss me off, as usual. I punched him in the stomach, winning a surprised oomph and Edward bent over a little bit. Well, I had wondered what I would do if I ever saw him again. And the answer was: slug him in the abs. “What was that fo—” my next action interrupted his question, and surprised myself. I threw my arms around his torso and held him to me, maybe to make sure it really was him, and not a ghost. This seemed to shock him as well, his arms hovered above me, but not touching for several seconds. But finally, when I still hadn’t released him, his arms slid behind my back, completing the circle. His head that had been held high and astonished above me settled down, resting atop my head. “I’m ok, Anita, I’m not dead,” he murmured into my hair.

“How? What happened?” I asked, my speech muffled from the side of my face being buried in the soft cotton of his black shirt. I took a deep breath, taking his alive and well scent. I had never noticed it before, but Edward smelled good. Very good, to be precise.

He still understood my words, because he answered, “I was away on a business trip. When I got back I heard that people thought Ted had been killed by a rogue shifter. The body had been identified as me, the whole deal. It was like a sign, or a second chance to start over. I had to take it.” I think that was the most solid and long winded explanation he had ever given me.

I craned my head to look up at him. “What about Donna? What about the kids?”

“Honestly, Anita, you know who and what I am. Could I take that into their lives? It wouldn’t be fair to them, and it wouldn’t be fair to me, to try to fool everyone, 24/7.”

I sighed, and rested the side of my face against his solid, live, chest once again. “You cried at my funeral,” he taunted in a sing song voice, half whispering in my ear.

“Don’t make me punch you again,” I threatened, tightening my grip around him. I couldn’t believe he was here. With me. Solid and alive, and talking and breathing and God I was relieved.

“But you did,” he insisted, “I watched.” His hands were moving in small circles on my back. I fought the urge to purr it felt so good, and it didn’t leave me as confused and bewildered as it might have if this had happened before he “died.”

“Of course I did,” I retorted.

“Why?” he asked. His voice was gently inquiring, and I could tell he truly wanted to know. I turned my face up to him again, looking him in the eyes. They were still that striking shade of light blue, but they weren’t cold, or impassable. He was allowing me to see his emotions. Emotions I had never dreamed of seeing in Death’s eyes, when he looked at me.

Because of that, I wanted to give him as honest of an answer as I could. “Because “Because I’m glad you’re alive, damn it!” I searched for the words I felt, that I wanted to say. “I…I missed you. I felt empty, like a part had been stolen from me, when I thought you were dead.”

At hearing these words Edward closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead on top of my head. Then one of his hands moved up slowly, to cup the side of my face. He guided my lips towards his, and instead of jerking away I waited for it, even anticipated it. His lips brushed against mine lightly, testing the waters. I noticed a fine trembling rack his frame when I didn’t object, pushing up to meet his mouth. I slid my tongue between his lips slowly, tearing an inarticulate, almost whine, from his throat. His one hand moved to my waist, pulling me flush against him.

I was suddenly aware of the fact I was only wearing an oversized t-shirt and my panties. Aware, and didn’t care. My arms slid up his body to behind his neck, deepening the kiss. Edward explored my mouth, hungry but still gentle. A gentleness I didn’t think capable of Death. And there was a need there. I realized it had always been swimming below the surface for the both of us. But like swimming under ice, we never allowed our emotions to break through.

Edward’s hand slid down my hip to the hem of the t-shirt, and then back up, under the shirt. The gentle feeling of the pads of his fingers on my thigh sent a jolt of adrenalin and pleasure rushing through my system. He hooked one thumb on the strap of my panties, and snapped it against my skin, causing me to jump with surprise, but also delight. He pulled back to look down at me, and the pure intensity of emotion he finally let show through in his eyes snatched my breath away. He smiled, one corner of his mouth turning up in a little smirk, telling me he knew exactly what I was thinking.

My hands moved down his chest and then over his shoulders, pushing the duster to the floor. Next my hands smoothed down his chest, I brushed my fingernails across his nipples, and a small hiss of breath escaped his lips. I captured his lips again in another, more urgent, kiss, while hooking my fingers in the waistband of his pants. I began to walk backwards slowly, drawing him towards the bed.

Edward tore away from the kiss, shaking his head. “No, this isn’t going to work,” he protested. A look of shock crossed my face from the possible rejection. Then without warning Edward swept me off my feet, and carried me to the bed, a devilish smile in place on his lips. “You were walking too slowly,” he explained, setting me gently down in the center of the bed.

“You are evil,” I said as he crawled over me on all fours, the obvious relief on my face plain to see.

“Thank you,” said Edward, raising both eyebrows up and down once.

I reached up, tracing the smile lines of his face gently with my fingertips. The smile quickly faded, replaced with other emotions. Desire, hunger. He moved to kiss the back of my hand, and worked his way down my arm, until he eventually reached my neck. He kissed the skin playfully before taking the soft flesh between his lips and teeth, working at the flesh gently.

My hands moved upwards, smoothing down his chest and his sides once again, over the soft black t-shirt. “You have entirely too much clothes on,” I commented, my voice gone husky from the magic he worked with his lips on my skin.

“The same can be said of you,” he answered. I could hear the smile in his words. “I often mused on how long it would take you to make that comment, if we ever started this,” he whispered into my ear.

“Often?” I asked.

He moved to sit at the side of the bed, taking off his shoes. “Yes, often. God, Anita, too much, and for too long.”

Leaning over me, his weight supporting one arm, he kissed me again. “But that doesn’t matter now, does it?” he asked.

“No,” I answered, noticing how his muscles of his arm bunched under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

His hands moved to the bottom of his shirt to take it off, when I sat up, catching his hands in mine. I kissed each hand in turn, and said, “Let me.” Edward acquiesced, allowing me to draw his shirt up over his head, revealing that plane of well toned muscle. It wasn’t too much muscle, but it was enough. Enough for the job we do, and pleasing to the eye on the side.

With a mischievous smile I pushed him backwards onto the center of the bed, straddling his waist. I leaned down, starting at the hollow of his throat and kissing a line down his chest. His stomach twitched when I reached his abs. Death? Ticklish? Surely not. I flicked out my tongue again, testing the theory, my eyes rolled up to look at his face.

Edward’s head rocked back with the sensation, then back to look down his chest at me. “You’re ticklish,” I said teasingly.

“Am not,” he protested.

“You are. Death is ticklish. I would have never guessed.”

Sitting up, he kissed me lightly before drawing my shirt up over my head. “Then let’s just find out where the Executioner is ticklish,” he said, leaning over me until I had no choice but to lie back on my back. Now only in the panties, I felt a little bit of nervousness along with the anticipation thrumming in my bones. Although I don’t know how, Edward sensed this. He kissed me gently, leaning over me. “You’re so beautiful, Anita.” When I parted my lips to protest he placed a finger over them. “Shhh. You are. Believe me. You are.”

Edward ducked down, taking my breast into his mouth. A small shudder racked my body as his skilled lips and tongue moved over my sensitive nipples. He playfully nipped at one, and turned back up to look at me. “Ticklish spot number one: found.” I couldn’t help but laugh. He raised his eyebrows, once up, once down, then moved down my body with lips and tongue and teeth. His tongue ran over my belly button, causing me to suck in my stomach. “Ticklish spot number two: found.” He sat up on his knees, his fingers sliding under the straps of my panties. “I think I know where ticklish spot number three can be found,” he whispered, sliding my panties down my legs and tossing them aside for the insignificant garment they were.

As his mouth worked its way down my hip I shuddered, closing my eyes. He spread my legs farther apart with his hands slowly, drawing it out. His hand slid up my short torso and laced my fingers in his as I could feel him moving forward. His tongue started at the top of me first, then slowly moved down, parting the folds of my vulva. He took me with tongue and lips and teeth, leaving my head in a whirlwind, my senses hovering high above us in euphoria.

When I came back down from my high Edward was now on top of me, his bare stomach against mine. I ran my hands down his sides to find he had removed his pants, all that was left now was his bare skin and mine. That was how I wanted it right now. I craned my neck up, kissing his lips. He must have wiped his mouth, because I could only taste traces of myself, but mostly just him. “Please,” I whispered, pushing against him with my hips.

He took my hands in his, holding them above my head. It was a dominant gesture, and oddly enough I didn’t mind. I could feel his head hovering above my opening, and I closed my eyes as he began to slide slowly inward. “No, Anita, look at me. Please,” whispered Edward, his voice gone husky. I opened my eyes, meeting his. Those bright blue orbs blazed with passion as we slowly, inch by inch, became one with one another. This was what it was like to be one with your soul mate. It was wonderful. I couldn’t even describe it, it was such a great feeling of euphoria, bliss, and passion. And it only magnified when Edward began to move inside of me. We moved in time to one another, perfectly synchronized, working without thinking but just feeling. We both shuddered as Edward moved exceedingly faster and faster, bringing us both closer to the brink. Slamming against each other, we raced for the peak of our passion, “I love you,” I moaned as I reached the top with him. He cried out, arching his back against me as he spilled his seed inside of me in a scalding rush.

Edward slumped forward and against me, burying his face into my hair. “Love you too, Anita,” he whispered in my ear, out of breath.

He slid out of me and rolled over onto his back, drawing me to him. We kissed, long and lingering, all of our love and passion thrown into that one lip lock. Drawing back, Edward murmured, “I think dying was the best thing I ever did.”

I laughed, resting my head on his shoulder. “As long as you always come back.”

I woke up with the sun in my eyes and Edward’s arm around my waist. I smiled, kissing him on the forehead, and tried to get up. His arm tightened around me with a protesting growl, pulling me back down and to him. “Do I not get to take a shower?” I asked jokingly, turning over to look at him. He smiled, kissing my lips. “No,” he answered with a smile. “But we can.”

The hour and a half was dedicated to the longest shower I had ever taken. And I wasn’t complaining. While we were drying off, or rather, drying each other off, I heard a knock on the door. Edward and I both froze in mid-kiss, pondering on whether or not to answer it. I broke away, grabbing my robe that was hanging on the door knob. I stood to the side of the door, and called, “Who is it?”

“It’s Donna.”

I raised an eyebrow, and motioned for Edward to retreat back into the bathroom. Why was she here? I opened the door a crack, and sure enough, it was really Donna. But not only Donna, but Bernardo Spotted-Horse stood there behind her as well! Well isn’t this just old home week, I thought to myself. “Come in,” I said, opening the door wide for them. They entered, and I noticed Bernardo trying to look down my robe. Well, as long as things were normal, I thought to myself, bemused.

“How are you, Anita?” asked Donna.

“Better,” I answered, fighting not to smile. Edward was in the bathroom right behind me, and she thought he was dead. After the snot she had been to me, it had a sort of poetic justice. “How about you?”

She sighed dramatically. “I have a long road to travel before I’ll be better. But I’m glad you’re recovering so quickly.” Just the tone she used made me want to throw her out. But I controlled my primal urges, and behaved myself.

“So what’s up?” I asked, looking up at Bernardo.

“I came to tell you that Mr. Spotted-Horse is going to hunt down the shifter that killed Ted,” said Donna.

I nodded, once up, once down. “Well then, I guess that means I won’t have to.”

“Did you come prepared for a hunt?” asked Donna.

“You bet,” I answered.

The new age mother nodded, I think actually approvingly. “I’ll leave you two to talk about little violent details I probably don’t want to hear about.” Donna left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Before I could say anything, Bernardo spoke up, “So is he really dead?”

I glanced over at the bathroom. Edward was leaning in the doorway now, wearing a pair of black house pants. I don’t know where he got them from. “Ted is dead,” he answered, startling Bernardo. “But Edward is alive and well.”

I smiled, and so did Bernardo. “Good to know.”

“And if you tell anyone, you will regret it severely,” threatened Edward, his voice cold and deadly.

This only made Bernardo smile. “I’m not stupid,” he answered.

After Bernardo left, I asked Edward, “So what are you going to do, now that your one legal identity has died?”

He smiled, secretive. “Who said Ted was my one legal identity?” Why wasn’t I surprised to hear that? “I’ll make due. And what about you? What are you going to tell the boys when you get home?”

“I’m going to tell them its over. What else would there be to say?”

“Can I kill the vampire?” His voice sounded hopeful.

“No, Edward.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

I laughed. “I’ll remember you said that later tonight.”

Edward drew me to him, pulling me by the sash of my robe. “Who said we have to wait until tonight?”

The End

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