Advisory. This piece contains nudity and graphic violence.

Fabian took great care as he strapped Celeste to the surgical table, his movements were steadied and unhurried. He strapped her lifeless arms and legs and double checked each of her bonds, even though there was little to no chance that she would ever feel the floor beneath her feet again. No one had ever survived his purification process, the savior could never wait for his gift, and sometimes took them before they were completely cleansed.

A slow smile of satisfaction lingered on Fabian's face as he looked down at the beautiful form of Celeste Frazier. Her arms and legs were secured by a single metal band, there was ample padding to keep it from becoming uncomfortable. Her head would have been free to move about if she hadn't still been under the effect of his soul drain.

Celeste was completely powerless at this point to do anything but watch what was going on, and her mind was still startlingly alive with the enhanced senses that she was experiencing. One of his hands came down and caressed her cheek lightly, trailing over her delicate cheekbones as he gathered her hair and tucked it behind her ear. He repeated the process to her other cheek and then her forehead, until all of her luscious dark hair was pulled away from her face.

As Fabian moved around her, Celeste followed his form with her eyes. Every movement etched itself in to her brain; every inch of his body was fixed in her memory. She was not usually a violent person, but for him, she would make an exception. Her eyes, her only method of communication, were truly mirrors to her soul in that moment. No trace of fear showed there, but loathing and contempt shone through with fierce intensity.

Once her face was unmarred to his liking, he turned his attention to a counter next to him, and pulled out a bottle, labled Sodium Hypochlorite. He poured a small amount in a glass, approximately one ounce and lifted it towards him. First he inhaled the contents, wincing slightly and then he brought it to his lips and emptied the contents into his mouth. He swished the acrid smelling formula around his mouth and then swallowed it, his eyes closing from the effort. After a moment he pulled a glass measuring cup from the counter and filled it to the four oz. mark with the solution and walked over to the sink, waiting patiently for the hot water to indicate it's readiness by the steam that rolled around it and upwards as it cascaded into the sink. He diluted the solution by about half with the water and returned to Celeste's side.

She continued to follow his movements as best as the position of her head would allow. Even with the apparent hopelessness of her situation, Celeste could not help but feel a morbid curiosity as to both his intentions and his motives. He was clearly a religious nutcase, but was that the real motivation? Or was this a very elaborate way for the DiSantiagos to get rid of her? Certainly, if they wanted her dead, there were easier ways than this. But perhaps leaving it to one of the criminally insane members of their family would help to keep them ‘guilt-free’.

Or, maybe it was a personal vendetta. She couldn’t think of anything in particular she had done to wrong Fabian DiSantiago, but she had certainly wronged enough people to warrant some kind of attack. This could be related to any number of slights, minor or major, real or imagined. It certainly seemed targeted specifically at her, not random chance or a random choice.

Regardless, she was here, at his mercy. As he approached, the glass measuring cup came in to view, but she could not discern what was in it. She suspected it would not be long before she found out.

"That's a good girl.", Fabian breathed the words as he looked into the depths of her violet eyes. "So brave, so calm... I prefer that you know. The others, their eyes were so frenzied and frantic." He cocked his head a bit and bent low over her as he peered relentlessly into her eyes. His breath was so close to her that it ticked her face as he looked for something in her eyes. All the while the scent from the bleach solution drifted from the cup as it began the slow process of cooling, and invaded Celeste's delicate nostrils. "...but not you."

You’ll never have the satisfaction of getting fear from me, she thought, trying to project the thought at him. If looks could kill, Fabian would have dropped dead on the spot.

"This is going to sting Celeste, but it will cleanse your pallet and your throat. It will purify your tongue of your lies and wash away some of the sins from your promiscuity." She tried to resist, but her lips here easily parted with one of his hands, as the other held the measuring cup above her and began pouring the hot bleach mixture down her mouth. The taste was unbearable as it washed over her tongue and down her throat, she gagged involuntarily and some of it spilled back out of her mouth, to dribble down her chin.

"Shhh....Shhh.... That's a good girl." He took a towel and began to blot at the water that dribbled back out of her mouth. His motions were soft and caring, as he swept the cloth over and under her chin to dry the leftover mess. He turned again, as she struggled, and began busying himself with putting a pan of water on to boil, he began humming softly, a verse over and over. Over and Over. Over and Over. Until finally the familiar verse came alive in Celeste's mind and she heard the words just as he began singing them.

Jesus loves me! This I know,
For the Bible tells me so;
Little ones to Him belong,
They are weak but He is strong.

Surprise registered in her brain. Bible songs? You’ve got to be kidding me. He was going to bleach her, torture her, and kill her… while singing a kid’s Sunday school song. She wanted to laugh, but her muscles wouldn’t obey even that much. It seemed that only her base reflexes were working – blinking, breathing, heart beating. Oh, and her gag reflex. Apparently her body wouldn’t let her drown, but it would let her lay here and be killed by this psycho.

Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so.

When Fabian returned into her vision he was holding some sort of tool...or gun. His beautiful singing voice toyed lightly with the song as he loaded a thin white stick into the gun. It was then that she realized that it was a glue gun and by that time he was standing over her with it, poised and ready as it lowered towards her lips. The glue was hot like wax as it slipped across her lips, some of it seeping into her mouth as he made several meandering motions with it.

Jesus loves you! He who died,
Heaven's gate to open wide;
He will wash away your sin,
Let His little child come in.

Celeste closed her eyes as the hot wax touched her skin, mentally trying to separate herself from the pain. She would not let him see how much it hurt; her pride would not allow it. No matter what he did, she would not betray herself in that way. She would be strong, silent, and superior to the end. It was a small thing, but it gave her something to cling to as the wax cooled to a bearable temperature. It seemed to take forever, but finally he laid the gun down and picked up one of his towels. He then spent just as much time tidying up any mess of glue that escaped the precise destination that he had intended. At some point he resumed his song, but this time it was as if he was singing it for her.

Once it was cooler - or the skin where it touched had lost the ability to feel it - she opened her eyes again. She at least wanted to know where he was, if nothing else. The next refrain of the song went by without incident, but he continued to alter the lyrics to sing them to her.

Jesus loves you! loves you still,
When you're very weak and ill;
From His shining throne on high,
Comes to watch you where you lie.

As her eyes focused again on him, she saw that he held a knife and a pair of tweezers. He leaned low over her again, his voice shifting into a low hum of concentration as he looked intently into her violet eyes again. He sat the knife down then, smiling a bit, and came at her left eye with the tweezers. She clamped her eyes shut reflexively, but he pried it open, and very delicately poked the point of the instrument into her until it clasped her artificial colored contact and removed it. He then repeated with her right eye, until it was her beautiful brown eyes that peered angrily at him. The scratch on her retina was painful but not unbearably so.

He replaced the tweezers on the table and picked up the sharp surgeon's blade. Her eyes watched it until it lowered below her chin, where she lost sight of it. She felt the prick of it against her neck but there was no pain as it trailed down her neck slicing at the delicate fabric of her designer dress. He hesitated for a moment as the silk slid away from her bared breasts, his hand coming to an immediate stop as his eyes looked lustily upon her. She saw his neck work as he swallowed hard, his tongue flicking out for a moment to wet his lips. His free hand lifted and hovered above her, trembling with some unseen struggle.

Her heightened senses made the feeling of the cool air on her suddenly exposed skin seem much more intense than it might otherwise have been. Goosebumps rose on her skin as the fabric slid away, and she could feel her nipples stiffen. Fabian’s hand, suspended above her breast, was so close that she could almost, but not quite, feel it.

Despite herself, she could feel her body react to his closeness. Her dress was sliced open passed the waist; in another moment, it would part her dress the rest of the way, leaving her completely exposed except for her black lace thong. Completely at his mercy, strapped to his table as he prepared to kill her, and yet part of her was still yearning for his touch. As much as she hated him at that moment, she also hated herself, just a little.

It took several moments before Fabian lifted his hand further away from the temptation of Celeste's bared breasts. He purposefully averted his eyes until his hand stilled and responded to his command. He twisted his body and picked up a pair of surgical gloves, meticulously donning one on each hand before he allowed his attention to return to the beautiful prone body in front of him.

His right hand still held the blade as his left hand dropped to rest on Celeste's thigh. His eyes glazed over as two of his fingers slipped below the lace of her thong. She could feel his fingers linger and then slowly trace towards her inner thigh. She could feel his hand begin to tremble with his desire and his eyes closed again as he swallowed back yet another bout of temptation. When he opened them again, he quickly sliced through the elastic with his blade and allowed it to drop from his hands as if it were now tainted.

The sound of steel upon steel clattered through the eerie silence of the room, as Fabian focused his attention again on her black panties. With a care that could have been delicious under other circumstances, the DiSantiago slowly worked her thong off of her body. His well manicured fingernails trailing over her waxed bikini line, and gently brushing against her soft mound as he did so. His trembling fingers finally pulled it away and he looked at it lying limp in his hand before he slowly brought it up to his nose, not quite touching it, and inhaled deeply of her scent. A visible shiver convulsed through his body as he took another slow waft before finally setting them on the counter behind him.

The clang of the blade falling would have made Celeste jump nearly out of her skin, if she had been able to move her body at all. As it was, the noise rattled her nerves somewhat – especially as she couldn’t see where the blade had fallen. Still, it was somewhat gratifying to see that she was having an affect on him, even prone and strapped down as she was. It was small comfort, given her current situation.

She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her system, even though her body remained motionless. Her heart was pounding, but Celeste forced her thoughts to stay calm and rational. She methodically tried moving each one of her extremities, trying to gauge the responsiveness of her body. She hoped that his internal battles would keep him distracted long enough to let the numbness in her body wear off – but she didn’t want to attempt another teleport unless she had a chance at success.

If she was going to get out of this, it would be only if he underestimated her. Even then, she had to be ready for any opportunity.

Watching his every move, she waited patiently. His back remained to her for several moments as he resumed humming his childish bible song. She could hear the sound of pouring water, and the distinct sound of it sizzle as it fell upon a hot uncovered burner. Then the faucet ran again for a few moments, before finally he returned to her line of vision.

Jesus loves you! He will stay,
Close beside you all the way;
He's prepared a home for you,
And very soon His face you'll see.

Fabian was carrying a metal bowl and the steam coming off the top told her that it was hot. The stringent smell of bleach was thick in the air again as she waited helplessly for whatever might come next. He sat his concoction down on the table next to her and his song came to an abrupt end again as his eyes fell upon her. He took several moments to allow his intense brown eyes to sweep the length of her, sometimes bowing low over her to inspect a freckle or birthmark. For the first time he walked all the way around the table as he inspected every inch of her. As his detailed examination drug out, she could see his eyes grow glazed again with his want.

Returning to his preferred spot next to the bowl, he removed first one surgical glove and then the other, as he reached his hand into the hot water. He winced painfully at the touch of the liquid, even though it had been cooling now for several minutes. He lifted out a thick yellow sponge and squeezed it gently to remove some of the excess water, before he gently placed it on her face. The liquid was searing hot and he took a painfully long time, cleansing her face of any trace of make-up.

As the sponge descended towards her face, Celeste once again closed her eyes. When it touched her skin, she was briefly glad that she couldn’t make a sound – she was not at all certain she could have prevented herself from crying out. The pain was intense, radiating out from wherever the scalding water touched, and leaving a trail of slowly fading agony as it passed across her face.

Other than the painful temperature of the water, Fabian was exceedingly gentle in his ministrations, almost worshiping her body as he dipped the sponge time and again into the water. Each of his strokes was soft and thorough, he worked his way over her swan neck and down her arms, her stomach followed, and then her shapely legs and feet. His eyes kept straying to her breast and thighs, and an occasional tremble in his hand would give away his blatant desire for her, but as of yet he left both untouched.

Once he was finished with her face, she re-opened her eyes to watch him as he continued. She wasn’t certain if it was worse knowing when the sponge was about to scald her, or worse not being able to see him. The temperature of the water slowly got cooler, making the touch of the sponge slightly less painful as he continued across her body. She forced her eyes to continue following his movements, allowing nothing but contempt to show in her gaze.

The closer Fabian grew to completing his task of purifying her body, the more she could see and feel the tell tale signs of his discomfort. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, kept drifting to the soft mound between her thighs. She felt his hand, on the inside of her thigh, come to a pause. The sponge the only thing between him and his longing.

The tension was thick in the air as Renaldo and Raphael came together again to make their plan. Both knew that the motivations of the other were likely the antithesis of their own. It was the success of the mission that was most important, and that was what brought them together in their tenuous bond of action, if not trust. That mission was finding Fabian before he had the chance to taint or ruin the DiSantiago name.

Neither Renaldo or Raphael could imagine how deep the loyalty to protect their blood name ran in the other, but it was that common goal that united them. The sharing of the information had been a quick affair. Raphael had an address, a place where medical supplies had been shipped, that he was fairly certain would be the crime scene. Renaldo had been just as successful in his quest for clues, and knowing Fabian the best, had a better idea of where he might go and what he might do.

It was easy to agree to LoJack the missing car that Renaldo noticed was absent from the family's wall of keys, one quick call and they had a location in Irish Town, not very far from where they were now. The Engagement Invitation that he'd found, was in that neighborhood and he was fairly certain that was where he would find his next victim. The more difficult topic at hand, was whether to try to intercept Fabian at the party, or go directly to the residence and hope that was his final destination. ...both had risks.

Raphael drove the car without concern for traffic laws. Time was running out and wanted to stop Fabian before he killed again. He looked at his cousin: Renaldo's face was a mask of calm. Raphael respected that, and he was tired of the lies.

"I say we go to the house. If we get there first, we can back off and wait for him to enter; if we get there after him, we can just enter. If we miss him at the party, it might be too late to save the girl." Raphael said. "You good with that?" Raph knew that catching him at the party would be the best case scenario for Renaldo. Renaldo could be assured that Raphael wouldn't do anything stupid at the party and the girl could just be taken away and given a nice story about "that diSantiago boy".

Renaldo broke his silence. He had been lost in thought ever since they left his mother's house. He wasn't sure which was going to be more difficult - dealing with Fabian or dealing with Raphael. He hadn't spent much time with the family's dog and didn't know how much he could trust the man to do what was right instead of what he was told. Not that preserving the life of a serial killer would be considered "right" by most people.

He continued to stare out the window and replied without looking, "Sure... the house sounds fine. Fabian probably has too much of a head start to catch him there - plus there'll be a lot of bystanders. Our best chance is to get in front of him somehow. I doubt he's going to come with us quietly."

"When this goes down, we need to be on the same page. So, I'm going to level with you." Raphael said, "I know that you lied to me about Angelo asking me to take you along; most likely, you have figured out that Angelo has given me orders to kill Fabian. You know the reasons for that. You've seen what your brother can do." He looked over at Renaldo. "I know that you're probably against me killing your brother. And yet, I have agreed to bring you along on this.

"So, best case -- and worst case, how do you see this playing out?" It went against nearly everything that Raphael believed. Bringing Renaldo, telling him his secrets before getting assurances that Renaldo would be as forthcoming, not out-right killing Fabian when they found him: none of this made him happy.

The priest turned and gave Raphael an appraising look. He wasn't expecting this little chat to happen until after Fabian was caught, but now was even better. The kid was obviously loyal to the family... but was he blindly loyal? Time to find out.

With a grudging nod of repect, he answered, "OK... let's get on the same page."

"First off, fuck Angelo and what he wants. My brother... my blood... is not going to die just because it's inconvenient to him."

He studied Raphael as he said the words, waiting to see if he would immediately jump to the patriarch's defense.

Raphael nodded with a smirk on his face. "Yeah - I agree. Fuck Angelo."

"Best case scenario? We work together and get Fabian back to the house. Alive. Then I talk to Angelo and set things right."

Renaldo took a deep breath and locked eyes with Raphael before continuing, "Worst case? You kill Fabian, then I kill you, then I probably have to go kill Angelo."

He let the words hang in the air for the moment before continuing. He was sure that his words didn't intimidate the family killer. How could they? Renaldo was just a priest with healing powers.

"So... how do you think this is going to play out?"

"Best case: We save the girl; and then we deal with Fabian." Raphael punched up the victim a little as a poke, since Renaldo hadn't mentioned her before. "But, even with that, I don't see Fabian going back to his room. He needs to be in a place where someone can watch him -- all the time. Somewhere without a computer, a Bible and with trained guards."

"Worst case:" Raphael continued. "She dies; he dies; I die. It'll be like the end of Hamlet."

"Shakespeare was a hack," Renaldo quipped, trying to buy time and process the unexpected turn of events. Neither of their worst case scenarios involved his own death - which really made them 'next to worst case scenarios' as far as he was concerned. Things were going better than expected. Raphael wasn't acting like he expected... like the kind of guy whose idea of a fun Saturday night was smashing in his victim's teeth with a hammer so their remains couldn't be identified.

"So... let's shoot for the best case scenario. We save the girl and get Fabian locked up somewhere far more secure. Sound like plan?"

He reached out his hand to shake and seal the deal, "We'll argue about the Bible later."

Raphael nodded, "One last bit. If Fabian lives and gets out again, it is entirely on us -- both of us." He shifted, then reached out to take his cousin's hand.

He didn't hestitate. He gripped Raphael's outstretched hand and looked him in the eye. "Deal."

Maybe it was childish or maybe he was just old fashioned, but Renaldo always felt a handshake was more binding than any amount of paperwork or lip service. You could tell a lot about a man in that moment. Would they meet your eyes? How firm was the grip? Was their palm sweaty? It was a skill that he had picked up long ago when a man's word meant more than it did today. Usually, in that instant, Renaldo knew if he could trust them.

He hoped he was right.

The car ride itself was uneventful and in about a half hour's time, they pulled into the quiet neighborhood where they believed Fabian was using as his base. The family car, that was missing from Felicity's estate was nowhere to be seen. There was, however, a beautiful blue Corvette sitting in the driveway, that quite likely cost more than the house that it was parked in front of. There were no outside lights on and all of the neighboring houses seemed to be quiet at this hour.

Raphael got out of the car as he studied the house. The ground was damp and the air heavy. He looked over to Renaldo, it was a matter of trust and safety. He had no idea what Renaldo's play really was here. Raphael had no intention of killing the girl, no matter what Angelo wanted. Memories of Inez flooded back to him, he would be in time - this time.

He looked for the subtle signs of a security system; but likely Fabian would have disabled that when he started using this place. He moved cautiously toward the house.

Renaldo was not ready for the confrontation that was about to take place. He wasn't sure at all what he was going to do. How far was he willing to go in order to stop his own flesh and blood? He had been pondering those questions after making the deal with Raphael, but hadn't manage to come to any conclusions. So, ready or not... it was time to act.

He got out of the car and walked along side Raphael. Pausing next to the corvette, he felt the hood to see if the engine was still warm.

He let out a deep breath and surveyed his options along with the house.

"I don't suppose you have x-ray vision?"

Without anything else to go on, he was leaning towards just crashing through the front door and trying to catch Fabian by surprise. It wasn't elegant, but there's wasn't much time to come up with a prettier solution.

There was a sign in the overgrown grass that indicated that this house was protected by Blazon Security Services. It was easy enough to see his way from the light of the moon and nothing seemed out of place as he made his approach. The house itself had a vacant look to it, not a single light was on inside, and only the car in the drive way left any evidence that it was occupied.

The pair made it to the front steps with still no evidence of being detected. No lights flared to life. No noise. Nothing moved. Raphael dared to peek into the darkened interior, but still nothing.

At the door, he turned to Renaldo once more, appraisingly. For all accounts, Raphael had no reason to assume that the man that stood beside him had any experience with this. Which meant Raphael would be taking the lead.

“Stay close,” he instructed, “And don’t… touch anything.”

?

With that, he gently opened the storm door (cringing at the creak of the rusted springs) and tried the knob. Locked, of course. He ran one hand along the door jam quickly, expertly: then peered through the dingy glass window in the door. It was standard fare. Easy enough. A single thought and the deadbolt turned. It concerned him only briefly, right before the door swung inwards, the distinct lack of heightened security – nothing more than a simple home alarm. If this was, in fact, the place, this Fabian character was either extremely confident, or extremely naïve.

The tiny family room was shrouded in shadows. A second passed – and in it, an hour. No sounds floated to him from the dim interior of the house. No lights. No noise. Nothing moved. Even the alarm remained silent: no warning beep, no blinking light – the system was lapsed? He frowned and reached for the wall switch. No electricity, either. Raphael moved into the room.

?

The furniture was sparse: old and decrepit and thick with dust. The centerpiece was a couch from 1975, with torn, diamond pattern upholstery the same texture of the carpet (which itself was ripped and stained all manner of colors). Beyond that, a crooked entertainment center held a busted 19” television and a collection of ancient knick-knacks. The room smelled like a nursing home: dank with a hint of urine.

That smell took him back to that night. The mildew and blood was missing, but the smell of her own urine… Raphael fought the urge to charge through the house as fresh rage filled his veins. This time was different, he reminded himself. This time he wouldn’t fail her. He stepped slowly through the darkened living room and into an even darker hallway.

?

The kitchen was opposite and the hall ran a short way into the house, leading to the two bedrooms, hidden at the end in the dark. Old pictures adorned the dated and peeling floral wallpaper. This was the home of an elderly woman once. Someone with family. Someone who was long since gone. It remained now as silent as the day she left. Like death.

Raphael held up one hand in the hallway, curled it into a fist, then pointed two fingers down the hallway, indicating his intention. They would split here, him taking the kitchen and Renaldo, the bedrooms. His choice was strategic.

?

Dim moonlight light stole through the gossamer-like curtains over the kitchen sink illuminating dust motes. The linoleum floor was cracked and stained with age, the lemon yellow walls peeling and in the corners, mildew or mold. The sink and counters were empty, and Raphael suspected as much from the cupboards and small fridge.

A small round table stood in the opposite corner by the back door, but neither it nor the two chairs had seen occupants in years. Although nothing was out of place, the room felt unclean – almost haunted. He shrugged off the feeling and took another look around. He reached absently for the pantry door, not expecting anything more than what he’d already found, but it was locked.

He stopped then and turned fully to face the door. At first glance, it seemed benign – just another door. But it wasn’t the pantry at all, Raphael realized his mistake: it was the basement. And locked with more than just a simple knob. It was deadbolted from the other side. He felt the jam around the door. It was heavy grade, thick and reinforced, maybe even sound-proofed by the looks of it. Another quick glance around turned up a small hidden panel in the wall. Raphael slid it to the side revealed a small keypad. He took a step back instantly.

He left the kitchen and moved into the hallway in search of Renaldo.

?

Later, back in the kitchen, both men examined the keypad with interest.

“You have anything for this?” Raphael said, keeping his voice low. He didn’t expect much.

?

ooc: I hope I didn't take it too far, but I know you wanted to move this thread along. Tag in anywhere.

Fabian's lips must have become suddenly dry because his tongue darted out too frequently to wet them, and his neck worked overtime as he tried to swallow down his desire for her. It had seemed like hours since she had heard his song and his voice, but it shattered the silence again. It had a ragged cracked quality to it now, and for the first time it sounded accusing. "You are living breathing SIN, Celeste Frazier. You bring out the devil in even the most devout, and for that you are my chosen one."

Even as he spoke the sponge had fallen from his hand, it hovered for a moment above her skin before it finally came down to rest on the inside of her thigh. His eyes closed and his voice went silent as he finally indulged in the sin that laid before him. His soft trembling hand slid upwards towards her mound and she felt his entire body lean low over her. With a gasp of pleasure he finally let his fingers slide into the soft warmth of her, trying to find the slick sign of her wicked lust.

As his fingers continued to move and explore her, she could still see the struggle in him, as he desperately tried to fight for control over his own desire. As sick as the thought of being violated was, there was something so twisted about his own struggle that it drew her attention away from the fact that he was only a hairs breath away from penetrating her. ...and just as she felt his hand tense for that final thrust, he screamed instead, ripping his hand away from her and grabbing it forcefully with his other hand. It was almost as if he was two different people, as he half stumbled over to the pan of boiling water, still grasping his one hand with the other as he forced himself to submerge it completely in the bubbling liquid. Screams of agony washed over her as Fabian finally doubled over in his own pain.

Somewhere past the moans of Fabian's pain, Celeste heard the creak of the basement steps.

ooc: