Silverfangs | An II Silverspoon horror AU

You are the only exception.

"Dear," She spoke softly, turning her gaze to the flower in hand and spinning it gently. "Please don't lie to me, it hurts seeing someone I care for lying to my face,"

"I." He paused, glancing to his stuffed pockets and to his hands, held into tight fists by his sides. "I admit,"

"I felt it in your aura," The candle looked up, her eyes seemed to glisten slightly. "And I presume I'm next, am I right?"

The spoon felt his knees weaken, like he was about to fall to the floor and beg for forgiveness from her, get his hunger crawled in his skin and scratched at his body. "I'm sorry, dear,"

He couldn't help but get tearful when he saw her smile at him with her own tearful eyes, no sense of fear or distress, nothing but kindness shined. "Then I guess this is it, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, Silvia,"

That name. It stung.

She walked forwards a bit, tucking the flower in a nook of his crack before stepping back, loose tears falling from her eyes as she opened her arms wide. "Whenever you're ready, Silver,"

Idly, one of his hands snaked down to his pocket and pulled one of his clawed gloves into his palms. With a shaking right hand, he put the glove on, not without Candle's eyes watching him. This was her end of the line, and yet another murder tied to the spoon's name. His knees quaked and his head pulsed, blood pumped harshly and he looked back to the woman in front of him.

"I-I don't have to-"

"No, You must," Her words trembled, her smile never going away as she cried. "I can't go on knowing you killed someone, so this must be the end,"

"I can't," Silver felt his own tears well up and fall, his lungs seeming to fail at holding in air. "I can't take your life, Candle,"

"Then maybe I'll do it for you,"

Before he could react, she raced towards him and pulled him into a hold. What he didn't exactly realize right away was that the clawed glove's sharp limbs had pierced her body and stabbed into a few organs. What did make him realize was when she released then jammed herself back in.

"CANDLE!"

Her hands shakingly floated to his hand he was trying to remove from her and pulled it out. "I'm sorry this is how it ends,"

Then raised his gloved hand to where her trachea was and jabbed the silver knives deep into her flesh. Hastily, he unstrapped his glove from his hand and threw it out of the way, helping the wiccan down into the grass. Her throat had welled up in massive amounts of pooling blood, spilling out of her throat and mouth and into the blades of grass.

"Fuck, oh fuck!" The utensil cussed, having his shaking hands hover over her. "Nonononono stop, stop this can't,"

The "on the brink of death" wiccan shuffled her weak hand to his leg and held onto him. Her face never stopped shining with that goddamn happiness, she was happy she was going to die, happy to die to his silverfangs. Yet he couldn't.

Her hand went cold as her face wavered before falling limb. And she was gone. Gone by the hands of Silver, taking her own life in front of him with his weapon. He did this. It was his fault. Silvia's tears fell faster, sobs coming from his mouth. Silver had killed a perfect person.

"Goddamnit. GOD DAMN IT." The cannibal screamed at himself, holding himself with his hands before curling them into his clothed arms. "YOU FUCKED IT ALL UP,"

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Silverspoon ended up actually burying her body. His hunger still ran rampant yet he couldn't bring himself to eat her. Silvia had fucked it all up by killing someone perfect and now this, this was what he'd get for breaking his own rules. Silver would starve cause it's what he deserved for taking her away.

Along the secret grave were rocks and the crystal Candle carried around with her, a rose quartz he had believed she had called it. It laid dormant in the matted ground with perfect rocks and pebbles lining the grave.

Laced next to the rose quartz was the flower she had given him, he couldn't bear to keep it in his crack. Along with that, he had searched around the clearing for other offerings, to show his remorse for the gone life of his rival.

The thrown glove had been recovered and was now stuffed into a pocket, leaving no trace of him being the culprit of her demise. The only thing left was slight blood spills from when she died, it had stained the grass and wasn't exactly the best smelling thing in the world.

And with his remorse and grief for her, he left when the moon began rising. Silvia couldn't go back tonight. Not after what he did.

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