Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sleep is always easier with the sound of rain. Such a notion proved true to the small blonde girl curled up on a tattered couch. She was not entirely submerged into the land of slumber, but the calm behind her closed eyelids certainly helped drive away the restlessness that had begun to seep through her wakeful mind. Sleeping during the day still felt odd, but as she had concluded with Zack, it definitely worked out well. Skip from town to city to town by night, and hide away in whatever shelter they could find during daylight. Though he hadn't outright said it, Rachel suspected that Zack lived similarly (though with a great deal more blood) before his time in that neverending basement.

A stumbling crash sounded from just outside the door, and cold blue eyes snapped open while the girl's body shot to attention. With a single sharp heave to the door, Rachel watched as a tall figure moved to lean against the doorway, the muted afternoon sky making it easy to recognize her companion. Though now soaked to the bone, he hesitated before entering, as if pushing against an invisible wall that only crumbled once he stepped fully inside. The door stayed open, the floor of the abandoned almost-shack, which was already half drenched from what had leaked in while the door was closed, quickly gaining a few more inches of water now that there was no barrier stopping it.

And there the figure stood, looking an inch away from collapsing.

"Zack...?" No reply, other than a few halting steps in her direction. She couldn't catch his eyes as they cast downward at empty space. Her first instinct insisted he was hurt, but memory reminded her that he never acted like this, even when injured.

"Zack," she tried again, voice blank as her expression but somehow tinged with concern at the same time.

He finally looked up, unreadable stare melting into confusion as he seemed to regain his consciousness. One blink. Then another. His spine stiffened, and the familiar look of frustration lit up his face. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Are you hurt?" Another blink, then a hand dragged across his face.

"No," he grumbled. "But seriously, what the fuck? I don't even remember how I got here!"

Rachel hummed. "Maybe you should sit down. Any trouble with police?"

Absentmindedly he obeyed, slumping down into the battered cushions and let his head loll back in exhaustion. "Nah." He paused, squinting his eyes at the ceiling. "At least, I don't think so," he mumbled.

She suddenly noticed blood on his neck. Fresh, glistening blood, unlike the dried stains of the other night. She was right. "You're hurt."

"Huh?"

"Your neck is bleeding. Were you shot at?" Her hauntingly emotionless voice failed to betray the worry in her eyes as she settled on the arm of the couch, turning his head towards her to see the wound properly.

"Huh? No, I wasn't shot at! Don't you think I would remember that?!" Suddenly his eyes widened, then narrowed down to a scratch on her arm, pulling at her wrist to see it better.

That's right, she recalled. Zack was still out when I scratched my arm on something jutting out of the back of the couch.

"Th' hell happened?" His voice was nonchalant but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the still-wet blood that somehow made it through the small, almost negligible wound.

"Some metal was sticking out of the back of the couch and I didn't realize it. It's not a big deal," she assured, though still wondering why he cared about such a small scrape.

"Y'should really cover it up." He did not move to relinquish her arm. As they watched, a tiny bead of blood managed to drip down, following the direction of her arm hairs. The sight didn't bother her; in fact all that crossed through her mind was the fact that she didn't think the scratch was deep enough to bleed. Well, that was all that she thought about until she felt something wiping up the droplet. Something wet.

Rachel looked down at the tongue that made quick work of the blood, her gaze following the appendage up to the mouth of the man in front of her. She blinked, this time. After a moment, she finally raised her unsteady voice. "Zack."

His eyes briefly flickered to hers, then back to the scrape, then she felt his body tense. Jerking back when he flung her arm away, she didn't move any farther. "What the fuck?!"

She noticed the wound on his neck start bleeding again, and once again guided his chin toward herself to see it before he knocked her hand away when he realized it was the same arm with the scratch.

"Don't do that," he growled, starting to pant as his eyes darted between her eyes and the scratch.

"Zack, I need to check the wound," she urged, starting to reach toward it again. He grabbed her wrist to stop the approach.

"I said don't!" Zack flinched when he realized he'd accidentally brought her arm closer to his face and quickly released her. "And what's that smell? Did you find food?" The scent permeating the single-roomed structure smelled nothing like anything he could think of, but his mouth started to water instantly.

She shook her head, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "No, that's what you went out for, remember?" He finally seemed to notice that he'd come back empty handed, but the scent remained at the front of his thoughts. "Zack, I really need to look at that wound. You seem a little... out of it."

"I'm fine," he grumbled, once again trying to tear his gaze away from her arm, which thankfully had stopped bleeding.

Rachel hesitated. "Zack, open your mouth."

"Huh?" He turned his head to meet her eyes. "Why th' fuck would I...?" He trailed off when she grasped his chin, using her opposite hand this time, and pulled his lips to see his teeth.

"Zack..." Uh oh. That tone does not sound good. "You have fangs."

"What?!" He reached up to poke at his canines. His significantly longer canines.

Licking blood, fangs, what the hell's going on here? "Shit."

"Zack, do you remember anything from when you went out?"

"Yeah, I remember a little." Pretty much the first thing he did after he left was slash up some junkie he found giggling in the alleyway, but that wasn't exactly unusual.

Rachel watched his face scrunch in thought. "Were you attacked?"

He paused. "Come to think of it, yeah. Some assholes I found havin' at it in the alley. Th' bitch squealed and ran, but the dude thought he was real brave tryin' t' pick a fight." Now that a few of his memories were resurfacing, Zack could recall what the little shit said to him. "Told me to put down my blade and fight like a man." Zack rolled his eyes.

"Did you?"

He snorted. "Yeah, I did. Didn't think it'd take much to pin him and drive my knife through his throat, but then after a second he started playin' dirty, scratching and biting and shit." He tapped at his neck. "Got me real good here."

"Did you notice anything... odd about him? Like maybe some fangs or something?" Ray glanced at his neck apprehensively. It has started to bleed again.

Zack tried to think back, but drew a blank on anything to do with the guy's face. "Nah, I don't remember," he huffed. "Man, I'm hungry! And what the hell smells so good?"

Rachel blinked. "Zack."

"Eh?"

"I think I know what you're smelling, but I want to test something first."

"Huh? Spit it out, what is it?"

She tilted her head. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Please."

He narrowed his eyes at her, confusion painting an amusing expression on his face. With a huff, he relented, letting his eyelids fall. Gingerly, Rachel lifted her arm, the scrape still uncovered, closer to his face and let him take a breath.

"Is this what you smell?"

He felt his mouth start to water at the sweet smell. "Uh, yeah? Why?" He cracked an eye open. "Wait, what? Ray, what the fuck are you doing?" And why does it smell so good?

She sat back, taking on an expression Zack knew well. He could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to work out how best to explain her train of thought. "So you got bit." She looked to him after each piece to check if he was still following. "And now you have fangs, and like the smell of blood." And taste of it too, she thought, but didn't want to embarrass him in case he decided to stop listening.

He looked at her as though she were a doctor about to give him news of a terminal illness. Rachel sighed lightly, barely a sound at all and easily muffled by the unending torrents of rain surrounding them. "Those are characteristics of a vampire."

Zack blinked, then started to make gagging sounds from the back of his throat. "What?!"

His eyes darted back to the scratch, swallowing back some of the gathering saliva. "So, assuming that's actually what's going on here..." He glanced at her neck, quickly redirecting his gaze to her eyes. "What- what does that mean? Am I going to, ya know...?" He gestured to her neck. "That?"

"If you want to, I suppose."

He balked. "Whaddya mean, if I want? I told ya I ain't gonna kill ya yet, so don't you go sayin' shit like that!"

"I mean," Rachel started again, "if you need to eat- well, drink, then I'm sure we can figure out a system so you can get what you need without taking too much."

Huh. Leave it to her to take the logical side. "Fine, whatever," he muttered.

She hummed. "We still have a few hours until night, do you want to get some sleep?"

He raised a brow (she assumed), then turned away, getting comfortable on the couch again. "Yeah, sure."