Multi-Fandom One Shots

The Shadows Reach (Angie Bouchard)

You didn't mind the quiet, who really did? But everything in moderation. Too much quiet and your already powerful hearing went to the extreme. Whiring and stomping, construction and screams, little sounds, big sounds, were all amplified by an intensified hearing you never quite adjusted to. Just another part of your curse. You'd heard every sound imaginable in the past who knew how long you were buried.

Oh, how impolite of you. You were the second-born to Joshua and Naomi Collins. Your older brother pissed off a witch, after stealing her from you. You weren't bitter or anything. Really. You preferred that he was the one to piss her off because this witch... was your family's servant. In its way, the curse was a blessing because too much longer without an eye-opener and you might've loved her. Only her curse on your family was as eternal as your life. And your brother's.

The witch cursed you both into vampires, to feel eternal agony, and then locked you in coffins, far from one another. You didn't know any of this, though you often wondered what had become of him. With eternity to while away, locked in a box, there was little else to do but wonder.

Time passed so slowly and without anything to break it up so you had no idea how long had passed. Sounds were often muffled, though you still had no problem picking them up. The understanding of the sounds was the difficult bit.

A new sound startled you from your self-starving status between sleep and at peace vs awake and with a throat like sandpaper. There were definitely footsteps coming toward you. The same footsteps you felt like you'd heard all your life: impatient and confident. Something was chipped away from the outside of your prison, the sound getting closer and closer. The air suddenly got fuller, chock-full of oxygen, though you hardly needed it.

Time seemed to slow as the lid of your coffin flew off with a loud slam. Hearing only muffled sounds after so long, your instincts kicked into overdrive and you flew high into safety. A ceiling blocked your continued ascent and you landed.

Angelique Bouchard stood before you, dressed as a prostitute, donning a grin much more cocky and confident than you ever remember her having. Her still striking eyes bore into you. You turned, still fast while she never moved.

You charged the now-blonde with the intent to kill her, though you felt no hunger to feast on her as you had every other creature since becoming this. You'd barely landed on her before you were flung across the room. Her laugh was just as you remembered. Your body moved quickly again, hopefully giving you an advantage, You found one of two open doors. One went up a set of stairs, one led outside where you could see sunlight. You remembered the burn of its rays and didn't quite wish to die. You raced up the stairs though every door shut before you could use one. With no other options, you chose death. You raced where you feel the heat.

There were multiple windows. The biggest was your best choice. You made for a wall of a window, which was covered by a large and heavy curtain. Your grip had nearly brought it down when you were pulled away by nothing. You landed hard in a corner, then watched the minuscule amounts of dust and hair fill the air as the fabric collided with the cool ground.

The blonde was all the way in your space, encroaching so close you wished you did desire to drain her dry. Still, the hunger grew now stronger in her presence. It was still prominent and you were half tempted to sink your teeth into her throat all the same. You'd seen her bleed when you were human. That would've been enough had the sweet, metallic smell not taken over your senses. The woman held a clear bag, air-tight and bulging with the deep red fluid. A corner had been torn off and the liquid was leaking down the side. Regardless, the metallic taste already coated your tongue and before you grasped the bag. Your strength nearly got the better of you, though you managed to get your lips around the tear.