Requested on Tumblr
Warnings: blood, pain, vampires
Word count: 2 721
The sound of your shoes on the hard paving stones echoed back from the walls left and right of the dark street, but you could not hear it over the sound of blood rushing in your ears and your heavy breathing. You were a good runner, always had been, but now your body reached its limits, and you knew you had never had a chance to begin with. They were monsters, predators, created solemnly for the purpose of hunting down humans. You had spent weeks hunting them, trying to work against these forces of evil that had taken away your closest friend. Pete was not dead, they had turned him into one of their own, a vampire, but maybe that was worse than death. And it was what was about to happen to you, you realised as you came face to face with a pale, evil smiling, young man. He wore a hat and old fashioned clothes, some weird, dead, furry animal hanging over his left shoulder.
You spun around, ready to bolt off into the direction you had come from, but only collided with another one of these monsters. They had been closer than you had thought. Probably they had even made a game out of chasing your around, just to see you suffer.
Nauseous, you turned back to the vampire you had seen first. He was the leader of the Dandies, no doubt.
"Stay away from me," you hissed, your body shaking both from adrenaline and fear.
"Oh, that's what you want, right?"
You had never heard him talk before, had hardly heard any vampire talk before, other than Pete. Usually they just restricted themselves to hissing at you.
Strong hands gripped your arms from behind, twisting them painfully to your back. From the corner of your eyes you saw more and more figures emerging from the dark around you, all of them part of the Dandies.
This was it, you realised. This was the end. Either they were going to kill you, or they would turn you into one of them. You remembered what Pete had told you one evening, that it felt like he was losing himself to the darkness, that every breath he took brought him closer and closer to turning into a monster. What had you replied to that? That as long as he did not want to become a monster, he would not turn into one? And had he not answered that it felt like his body and his mind were no longer really connected, that he feared his instincts would take over soon? You had shrugged at that, promising him that you trusted him not to hurt anyone, and to prove it, you had hugged him tightly. At first he had been stiff and tense, as if he was afraid he might attack you any moment, but after a few seconds he had relaxed and hugged you back. So maybe there was hope for him. And that meant that there maybe was hope for you too. If the Dandies would let you live.
The head of the gang slowly made his way over to you, swinging the walking cane he was carrying. Fear made you heart beat even faster than before, and you knew that this made it even harder for the vampires to resist the urge to tear you to pieces. Suddenly a voice rung in your head.
"They want you to be afraid. They thrive on our fear, so we can't give it to them. Never be afraid of them, fight back. Fight as long as your body allows you to. Always fight."
Along with the memory of Patrick's words, the memory of his hand on your shoulder came back. And suddenly you did not feel scared anymore, only angry. Angry because maybe you would never get to see him again, maybe you would never get to talk to him again, maybe you would never get to tell him how you felt for him. Andy had urged you to tell Patrick, again and again, promising you the blond would feel the same, but you had always chickened out, had never had the courage to be honest with Patrick. And now it was probably too late. All you could do was go down fighting.
And that's what you did.
You started throwing yourself backwards against the vampire who was holding you, knocking the back of your head right into his face, causing him to let go in surprise. Spinning around you knocked him in the throat, causing him to wheeze and sink to his knees. The moment of your triumph was short lived, because the other vampires started attacking now. You managed to take out two more, but after just a few seconds the fair amount of ten vampires had taken hold of you. Some were holding onto your arms, two even held your legs restraint with which you were kicking around fanatically now. And another two were gripping into your hair, pulling your head back so your throat was exposed to the leader of the gang, who was smiling happily.
"Aw, putting up a fight," he grinned. With inhuman speed he crossed the past meters between where he hand been standing and you, bending down to your neck. "Say hi to Peter for me."
You had always assumed getting bitten would hurt, but you had severely underestimated how much it hurt. You could feel the teeth sinking into the soft skin at the side of your neck, ripping open your flesh, but even through the pain you realised that they were not ripping you apart, they were turning you. As if on command you felt the venom flood into your system. Like fire it worked its way from the wound in your neck up to your head and downwards to your heart, feeling like flames were traveling inside your body. And once these flames had reached your heart, they turned cold. Ice cold. The burning hot turned into burning cold, freezing your body, not at all soothing the pain from earlier, only making it worse.
In the distance you heard someone shout your name and some courses, and then the vampires let go of you, dropping your body to the ground. The impact with the stones of the street was nothing in comparison to the pain that continued to spread through your system as the venom took over. The world had blurred around you, your vision was hazy, the sounds mixed up into an almost even noise of static. Something touched your face, something warm and alive. Then hands pressed against your neck, and you could tell the person was shaking. A familiar smell hit your nose and you knew it was Patrick.
Patrick had come for you. He was here. You were not alone. What you had not expected was the bitter taste on your tongue that you realised next. It started out as just bitter, then it got hot and while whatever it was that Patrick was feeding you impatiently, started running down your throat, it began burning the insides of your mouth. You tried to spit it out, still unable to register anything around you, but a hand covered your mouth and nose, forcing you to swallow, before they made you drink the next mouth full immediately. You did not know what was worse at this point, the feeling of the venom that still furiously spread through your body, the burning sensation of whatever concoction they were forcing into your system, or the feeling of suffocating.
Words were being spoken, and then turned into what almost sounded like a poem, but you were still unable to make out single words. Something touched your forehead, soft and warm and careful, but through the pain you barely registered it. You tried to speak, but if you managed any words at all, they were probably incoherent bubbling. And then, much to your relief, you passed out, the last thing you registered being lifted off the floor by Patrick.
When you slowly began waking up, the first thing you noticed was how cold you felt. It felt like someone had decided to bath you in liquid nitrogen. In fact you were so cold that you could barely move, only your eyelids were following your command and opened slowly, presenting you with the familiar sight of the ceiling in the warehouse in which you and your friends had your base. The sounds around you were familiar as well, the constant humming of the traffic outside, the whispering of some barely working lamp, the sound of someone training with the dummies.
You felt exhausted, all the pain from earlier had drained you beyond imagination. Memories came back pouring in, the attack from the Dandies, the venom rushing through your veins, the terrible stuff Patrick had made you drink- that had probably been the concoction he had mixed up for Pete in order to slow down his turning process. Patrick and the others must have found you, and while Patrick took care of you, the others kept you save from the Dandies, who ran away, now that their goal, turning you, had been achieved.
Patrick. You closed your eyes and thought of him. How he always had been concerned for your safety, how he always had looked out for you. You remembered the long evenings, or rather mornings, when everyone else was asleep, and the two of you had been sitting somewhere on a roof, watching the sunrise over the city. You had always sat close to him, and often he had given you his jacket to keep you warm, even though you had never been one to feel cold easily. But now you did. Now you felt like you were freezing.
You were still contemplating whether or not it was a good idea trying to sit up, when suddenly steps approached you, and the next moment a familiar voice spoke up.
"(y/n)! You're awake?" Patrick sat down next to the matrass on the floor you called your own. He reached out his hand and brushed his fingers over your forehead. His skin was hot against yours. "How are you feeling?"
You closed your eyes for a moment, and Patrick's hand immediately moved to the side of your face, ready to shake you awake again, but you quickly looked up at him.
"Tired, exhausted, cold, in pain, angry, sad, hopeless,-" you listed.
"Well, I got good news and bad news for you," Patrick joked, but his eyes were sad and concerned "which ones do you want first?"
"Hit me with all the bad stuff you got." You tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a whimper.
"Well, the bad news is that these bastards bit you, and we were not there in time to stop them."
You nodded. You remembered this much. Deciding you needed to sit up, you propped yourself up on your elbows, barely managing to sit, but Patrick quickly helped you, and sat next to you, in order to support you.
"And, also bad news, I got more of this wonderful stuff for you."
When you saw he was holding up a huge cup of thin, red liquid, stinking of garlic, you almost threw up. It was the same stuff they had made you drink down in the street, but now that your senses were a little clearer again, it stunk worse than you could have imagined.
"Really," you sighed, knowing you had no choice.
Patrick shrugged and handed you the cup.
"I mean, I could say it's for your best, if that makes you feel better," he offered, to which you only gave him a stern look, before starting to drink the disgusting mix of whatever was in there.
The liquid once again burnt your mouth and your throat, but it did not seem to be as bad as the first time. What was worse though was the instinct to throw the contents of your stomach back up again, the general disgust at the contents of the cup, as if someone had asked you to drink your own puke. You tried pushing that picture aside, instead focusing on how you used to like garlic, and eventually managed to empty the cup, before placing it aside with shaky hands.
Patrick had watched closely, amazed how bravely you had done as he had asked of you. It had taken Pete weeks to be able to drink a small espresso cup full of the stuff, before that he had only managed to consume the concoction drop-wise.
"You said there are good news," you eventually managed to ask, when it felt safe to open your mouth again without throwing up, "please tell me there's good news?"
Patrick nodded, and smiled a little.
"Good news is that we were there incredibly quickly, and Joe's idea to always carry some of that drink with us came to use. And the priest was there too, so we were able to prevent the worst, thanks to holy water, garlic and prayers."
Surprised you looked up at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," Patrick grinned and gently reach out his hand to brush his fingers over your cheek, "that we are certain you won't turn into a full blown vampire as Pete will, at least not if you keep drinking this stuff here."
He nodded towards the empty cup.
"What- what are you saying," you stuttered, unable to wrap your head around the words Patrick had just spoken.
"You might have a bigger appetite for raw meat and blood sausages, probably will get a nasty sunburn when exposed to direct sunlight, but you most likely won't feel the urge to attack people or drink blood when hungry."
Shaking, you took a deep breath.
"These are good news," you agreed, feeling relief flooding through your system. If what Patrick was telling you, was true, then you would definitely be able to arrange yourself with drinking this disgusting drink he had created.
For a long while you and Patrick looked at each other. You remembered how much you had longed to see him one last time, when you had been attacked. And now he was sitting right in front of you, his eyes softly looking into yours, a timid smile on his lips. Oh how badly you wanted to kiss him right now!
As if he had read your thoughts, Patrick suddenly leant in, but you stopped him. Immediately an expression of pain and embarrassment painted across his face, and he was about to draw back, but you closed your fingers around the jeans jacket he was wearing, holding him in place a few inches away from you.
"I don't- it's not- it's not that I don't want to- " you mumbled, looking up helplessly at Patrick before casting your eyes down into your lap, "What if you're wrong? What if I hurt you?"
You could feel Patrick relax, and a warm hand closed around your cold one, which was holding onto his jacket.
"First of all, I'm extremely certain that I'm right," Patrick's voice sounded as if he was explaining something to a small child, and you could tell the frown had turned into a smile again, "and secondly: I trust you, alright?"
Hesitantly you looked back up at him. He had leaned in closer, so close that his forehead was almost resting against yours. His eyes were watching your every reaction closely as he leant back in, but when you did not stop him nor drew away, he finally closed the gap between your lips.
You could taste the blood underneath his skin, could feel his pulse against his lips, and the warmth of his body flood through his clothes into the air around him, and into you. But he was right, you did not feel the urge to tear him to pieces or anything, it was just irritating to be able to feel him be so alive.
Patrick gave you time to get used to everything, but when you wrapped your hands in his hair, pressing closer to him, he lifted you into his lap, never breaking contact to your lips.
And while you were kissing him in this old warehouse, you could not help but starting to believe that maybe things would eventually turn out okay.