Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Do you know what it is to be loved by Death?

‘I’ve been in love with Charlie Spring for as long as I can remember.’ This was what Nick knew to be true. He had been on the planet for 706 years, but he’d been stuck at the age of 21 for 685 of them. He had known of Charlie Spring for twelve years and couldn’t remember when he didn’t feel protective of him. He first came across him when Charlie was around six years old and now, twelve years later, he just wanted to spend eternity with him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

A night in late October, Nick spotted a woman staggering from a shop back to her car, obviously intoxicated. From the shadows, he watched as she got behind the wheel of her car. But what he’d failed to notice at the time was the young boy sitting in his car seat playing a video game, innocently waiting for the woman. One thing Nick couldn’t abide, was the thought of innocence being destroyed. Nick ran behind the car as the woman drove away, weaving her way along the road. The chase felt different this time, his mind was pulled in different directions, but he did know there was something drawing him to this woman. He knew this night wasn’t over. It was dark and the roads were quiet, he ran silently just waiting for the inevitable to happen. Approximately three miles from the shop, the car ploughed straight into a street lamp, the front of the car crumpled and smoking. Nick ran to pull the woman from the wreckage, his instincts making him eager to taste her before she died. He knew she’d been drinking and he loved the taste of alcohol in the bloodstream. It never failed to give him a buzz. He ripped off the driver’s door and pulled her limp body from the wreckage, kneeling over her like a wild animal coveting its prey. Nick licked the wound on her head, an appetiser of sorts, whetting his appetite for the main event. As the blood lust took over, he pulled his head back and allowed his teeth to lengthen. They glistened in the moonlight as they grazed her skin, almost to the vein he was aiming for, when he heard a piercing high pitched cry from the backseat. Nick whipped his head to the noise and his eyes instantly landed on a small head of curls and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. The feeling he’d had when he first started following the car returned, his grip on the woman loosened and he withdrew his teeth as the child watched him. Wide eyes filled with terror. Nick saw tears forming in the boy's beautiful eyes, he watched as he fell pale to fear and the tears started to fall silently into the night.

Suddenly panicked, Nick pressed his finger to his lips, to shush the child. He saw the boy try his best to hold in his cries, to hold the noise within him, his expression telling Nick he wanted to do as Nick instructed, but he just couldn’t do it. His sobs cut through the nightly silence, and Nick felt them piercing through his chest, the wailing was sharp and it was loud and it was inconsolable. The woman groaned and started to rouse to the sound of her son, Nick had to fix this fast.

He moved stealthily over the woman and into the car, closer to the boy. He hummed a song his mother had taught him many years ago, a song that soothed him as a child. And it began to soothe the boy too. The boy stopped his cries, they turned to a sniffle, to a whimper, then to nothing. He fell silent, his eyes never leaving Nick, who was staring, lost in the pools of blue before him.

The boy gave a small smile, a smile that asked if he’d done well, had he pleased you? Nick couldn’t help but smile back, a strange sort of lopsided smile he’d never smiled before. This smile was just for the boy in the car, the boy who was lucky to be alive. The boy who Nick felt something for.

“Everything will be okay. No matter what happens. I promise you, you’ll be okay,” Nick spoke in a whispered tone. He chose his words with care. He knew his ability to manipulate the mind was powerful and he rarely used it. But there was something about this boy who was making him break all of his rules. Something intriguing, something hypnotic, something so damned pure that it overrode all of his instincts. He felt the unfamiliar urge to protect this particular boy fill his mind, the feeling uncomfortable but all-encompassing. He slowly crawled out of the wreckage and back on to the street, his footsteps crunching over broken glass as he walked away. Nick Nelson walked away from someone he had hunted, someone he had deemed to be worthy to drink, someone who was an easy target, someone he had tasted. And what surprised him more, he found himself looking back over his shoulder, watching the woman scrabble to reach her son, to get him to safety. Without realising it he was reaching for the phone in his pocket and calling for an ambulance.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That boy, Charlie Spring, had changed something in Nick that night. It wasn’t a gradual change over a period of time, it was sudden, instant and permanent. Nick wasn’t sure quite what had happened or how this six year old boy had wordlessly taken such a hold on him, but he knew his life would never be the same.

Over the years he watched Charlie grow, he watched him learn and he watched him become independent. He also witnessed him being bullied, taunted and mistreated. He watched as the tall woman who called herself his mother drank herself into a stupor most nights, leaving Charlie and his sister to fend for themselves. He watched as Charlie’s father left, unable to cope with the physical and emotional abuse he was victim to from his drunken wife. He watched as the father left the children and he watched as they said a tearful farewell, begging their father to stay or take them too. He explained how he couldn’t take them but he would come back for them, he knew he couldn’t manage. Nick's teeth ached with desire to feast on her flesh so that Charlie could be free, but he fought his inner beast and he became the ever present observer, merely a presence in the background of Charlie Spring’s life. He couldn’t interfere, it wasn’t his place, he had no right. He shouldn’t even be watching. But watch he did. He watched as Charlie celebrated birthday after birthday, every April 27th. He grew older and wiser and more and more unique, his intellect surpassing anything Nick could have imagined. Nick was spellbound, Charlie was like a drug, and Nick was addicted.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Nick was a vampire who had abandoned the vampire world, isolating himself and turning away from his routines of slaughter, maiming and torture. His best friend Ben didn’t understand his choice. He was always up for the hunt, the game, the blood lust, so when Nick left the vampire lair that final time, Ben vowed he would one day come for him and drag him back, or ruin whatever life he had built.

Nick had once also loved the thrill of the chase as people tried to outrun him, he had loved the eenie, meenie, miney, mo cat and mouse game of who to drink from next. He and Ben had been thick as thieves, a double act of destruction, wingmen to each other's desires. And Nick ate up every last bit of enjoyment and wonder as he made his way around the world with his partner in crime, leaving broken hearts and pools of blood in their wake.

Nick had lived through countless wars and no end of conflicts, taken pleasure in draining the life from soldiers on the brink of death, of women who were left behind, from anyone who looked at him strangely as he walked by. He had seen the world at its worst and thrived on knowing it was its own self destruction. His faith in humanity was completely lost, he was a walking shell of the man he had once been. 700 odd years had taken his soul, made him a monster and Nick relished it, flourished in it, perfecting his craft of inflicting pain in the most brutal ways. He had enjoyed watching the light leave people's eyes. He had loved the feeling of holding them teetering on the line between life and death, having the power to tip them whichever way he wanted in that moment. That was, until he looked into the crystal blue eyes in the back seat of that car. That was the moment everything changed. Nick felt it like a weight around his neck dragging him down. Now he craved redemption, forgiveness, and dare he think it, love. His existence suddenly felt like it had purpose, meaning, he felt like for once he had a future.

Nick watched Charlie from afar. He watched as Charlieslowly withdrew into himself, his light shining less brightly with each cruel word said to him, each punch to the stomach, each lunch stolen. He heard his drumming, hours and hours of drumming to release the tension pent up in his young body. He heard the screams as Charlie drummed through the pain of blisters on his hands and the burn in his muscles. But what disturbed Nick the most was the silence. The times Charlie merely whimpered and sniffed and quietly cried himself to sleep. Until one night, through the darkness, Nick heard him make a strangled sound followed by quick shallow breaths. He could taste the metallic edge to the air and he knew what Charlie had done. That was when Nick’s primal need to protect flared up, and he knew he couldn’t let Charlie out of his sight. He enrolled at the same college as Charlie the very next day.

Monday morning came and Nick had enrolled at Truham sixth form college. He needed to be close to Charlie, he needed to help him, that special boy from the car all those years ago. He needed to help him, guide him and ultimately save him; at the same time, Nick needed to save himself. He had promised that little boy that everything would be okay. For years he had stood by and watched Charlie’s life decline into misery and loneliness, and now it was hurting him too much. He was 18 now and he needed help. Nick needed to help him, to guide him to safety. He could do that. He could do it without getting too invested.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

As Nick walked the corridors to his form room, he was greeted by a teacher sitting at the front of the class.

“Nicholas Nelson I take it, welcome to Hamlet house. You’ll be sitting next to our top student, Charlie Spring.” Mr. Lange said in a very unbothered, slightly pissed off tone. Nick smiled a small toothless smile and made his way over to the table. He dropped his bag to the side of his chair and stood there for a second, expecting the boy next to him to look up and acknowledge his presence. But Charlie never did. He continued staring at his maths workbook, not actually completing the questions, just doodling in the margin. Little circles, lots of straight lines, all at different angles, criss crossed over each other, a small car, a street lamp, something indistinguishable. Nick admired the way Charlie’s pencil moved over the page, a graceful movement making sure and definitive lines. Soon enough, the lines made a face, the face looked to be in anguish, in pain, it was screaming. This doodle from the depths of Charlie’s mind reminded Nick of one cold October night nearly 13 years ago.

He couldn’t stand and watch this beautiful boy depict that night any longer. He grabbed the back of his chair and deliberately scraped the feet across the floor, making an obnoxious noise. Charlie's head snapped up as if he hadn’t been aware Nick had been standing there at all.

“Hi,” Nick said softly with his warmest, friendliest smile.

“H-hi,” Charlie replied shyly and ducked his head back down as if to cower away and become invisible. Nick sat down and gently nudged Charlie’s shoulder with his own. Charlie seemed to be doing his best to ignore Nick, but Nick hadn’t come this far just to be ignored. So he nudged him again.

“Quit it, would you!” Charlie snapped. “You think because you’re massive and attractive and new you can stamp your authority over the small and weak gay guy? Well, just stop it.”

Charlie’s words were not loud, but what they lacked in volume they made up with force. Nick felt every single syllable cut through his chest. Charlie was hurting more than he had imagined. How could he have allowed the poor sweet innocent child he met all those years ago to grow with such twisted, battered and bruised branches?

“I wasn’t, I just wanted to say hi,” Nick replied after a few seconds.

“You already did. Now leave me alone.” Charlie slammed his book shut and leaned forwards onto it, arms folded on the table and his chin resting on them. Only his eyes peeked up and his gaze was pointed dead ahead towards the wall in front of him.

Nick couldn’t help but revel in the aroma of Charlie Spring. He had spent so many years watching, following from afar, fantasising about a moment they would be next to one another. He knew Charlie’s scent, he could smell him on the wind instantly but now, sitting next to him, the source of such wonder, Nick was almost dizzy with desire.

The years had changed how Nick saw Charlie, how he wanted Charlie. When he was young he simply wanted to be near the boy, care for him. He seemed to thrive off the innocence of such a sweet kind hearted boy, as though Charlie was somehow healing centuries of slaughter and mindless violence. In one small smile, a decade of pain fizzled away. Each year spent watching and observing, absorbing the angelic aura of the small boy living his life, Nick felt better.

It was when Charlie turned 16, after ten years of witnessing his life from afar that the feeling within Nick slowly began to change. He didn’t realise it at first, but by the time Charlie was 18, Nick knew he loved Charlie Spring. He supposed he had loved him all along, that was the pull, the draw towards the boy in the car. But his love for this one person had changed from perhaps a parental guardian love to something more, something that Nick desired more than anything; reciprocated love, consensual love, physical love, all encompassing passionate love.

Could he even hope for such a thing?

Throughout his years with Ben, Nick knew that he was attracted to both men and women, he enjoyed the sweet, subtle differences in their blood. He took other pleasures from them too, had his fun before devouring them completely. Ben always said he was weird, disgusting and greedy, but Nick just couldn’t see it. There was never a name for it, it wasn’t socially accepted for many centuries. But in the not so distant history, Nick came to learn that he was bisexual. That bisexual people did exist and that they were in fact accepted. Not that Ben acknowledged it. He was forever making fun of Nick, telling him to pick a side, to settle. Ben would drink and torture anyone that crossed his path, but sexual gratification was strictly reserved for women.

Nick was brought back to the present by the loud, yet dull sound of Mr. Lange’s disinterested voice.

“Quiet down boys, time for the register.” The room fell silent. “I’d like to introduce our new student, Nicholas Nelson. Nicholas, please stand and introduce yourself.”

Nick rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth in frustration. He hated having to do things like this, he much preferred simply melting into the background where he could hide. He stood up slowly to his full height. “Hi I’m Nick, I err, I just transferred from, umm, it doesn’t matter. My favourite subject is history and I like to play rugby.”

“I bet you do, you're built like a brick shithouse.”

“Harry Greene, do not interrupt,” Mr. Lange scolded.

“Umm, so yeah, I like listening to drums, and I find maths interesting even though I don’t fully understand it.” Nick didn’t miss the flash of Charlie's eye line when he mentioned the drums and maths but decided not to draw attention to it.

“Alright well, thanks Nick. That was really informative,” Mr. Lange said sarcastically and then moved on to call the register.

After form, Charlie scuttled out of the room quicker than Nick had ever seen a human move. If he followed at his vampire speed he could have easily kept up, but Nick knew he needed to blend in, and he really didn’t want to spook Charlie. So he had to let Charlie slip through his fingers, disappear into the ether. He had time, he would win Charlie’s trust, earn his friendship and show him how to enjoy life again. The irony of this was not lost on Nick.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

His first day went by in a blur. Nick wasn’t used to regimented routine and rules, he was a renegade, he was ancient and he lived by his own regard. So when he was suddenly ushered along by teachers, told when and where to sit, stand, eat and talk, he very quickly made a mental list of each and every person he would eat, how he’d eat them and when. He only saw Charlie very briefly in the corridors and when he sat behind him in class. He didn’t get the opportunity to speak to him again. At break he lost track of him, unsure where he went; he couldn’t even smell him or hear him which broke his heart slightly, knowing Charlie was on his own in silence. Nick tried to block out all the noise and focus only on heartbeats, he wanted to find the familiar thud thud of the one heart he didn’t want to break. But he was out of practice.

It was at the very end of the day that Nick got one more chance. He saw Charlie at his locker, trying to fit far too much inside in a haphazard fashion.

“Hi,” he said with a smile as he stood before the boy. And promptly got ignored.

“Hi,” he repeated, and saw the eye roll that accompanied a sigh.

“Charlie, you may as well talk to me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“Why not, what?” Nick asked, genuinely confused.

“Why are you not going anywhere? What do you want?” Charlie asked bluntly, halting his locker-sorting to face Nick.“What could you possibly want with me?” He said as he flailed his arms to the side, drawing his hands from his shoulders down his body.

“I just want to be your friend,” Nick replied softly.

“Why?” Charlie asked, exasperated. “Why would someone like you want to be friends with me? I’m a nobody. I’m nothing. I'm insignificant in every way. You’re new here, so I’ll assume you didn’t know, but save yourself before people see us talking. Just forget I exist.”

Charlie turned from Nick and slammed his locker door shut. With a huff he picked up his backpack and started to walk away. Nick could feel the hurt in the boy's tone, Charlie truly believed the words he was saying. He believed he wasn’t worthy, believed he was insignificant, believed he was nobody - just bones and flesh and blood wandering the earth for no real reason but to take up as little space as possible and then die.

“Can I be your friend?” Nick asked when Charlie had taken a few steps away from him. He saw Charlie’s movements falter from their usual rhythm. But ultimately he carried on walking.

It took Nick another couple of days for Charlie to even glance his way. In that time he had joined the rugby team and become Mr. Popular. Everyone knew his name and if they didn’t, they knew him as ‘the cool mysterious new boy.’ It seemed the more Nick started to settle in, the more Charlie withdrew from him. From everyone.

Each night Nick sat by the tree outside Charlie’s window and he listened to him play the drums, he listened to him scream, he listened to the silence that was broken by a slice, a whimper and then the smell of fresh blood. Every morning Nick greeted Charlie with a smile, and Charlie scowled at him or simply ignored him, until one Wednesday, three weeks into the term when Nick was determined to crack the enigma that was Charlie Spring. He thought about manipulating Charlie’s mind, he thought about his raw strength to force him, he thought about a hundred different ways he could get Charlie to talk to him. To get Charlie to do whatever he pleased, whatever took his fancy, but he wanted everything to be on Charlie’s terms and it was so fucking frustrating. In all the years he had followed Charlie’s life, he had never once noticed how pig-headed and down right stubborn he was.

“Do you want to join the rugby team?” Nick blurted out one morning as he stood next to Charlie at registration. Charlie froze. His hand stopped doodling in his workbook, his lungs stopped inflating and his heart stopped pounding.

“Charlie?” Nick said with care as he placed his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie flinched away immediately. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled, making Nick put both hands up in surrender. “Why, the fuck, would I want to join the rugby team? That would be like walking into hell and giving every occupant and Satan himself a free pass at me. Are you fucking mad? I know you’re still relatively new here, but seriously Nick. I’d rather, I don’t know, die by vampire. Literally, just introduce me to a vampire and he can take what he wants, drain me of everything I have and discard my body in the Thames,” Charlie spat each and every word.

“So that’s a no then? I mean that’s a bit of an odd way to go, but we’ll go with it,” Nick giggled. Charlie’s face broke as he smiled a genuine smile. It was small, it was fleeting but Nick saw it, and he treasured it.

“No, I do not want to join the rugby team,” Charlie confirmed and returned to his doodle. This time his pencil was drawing a tree. The tree looked familiar, it was in front of a house, with a small boy in the window. The boy was looking out. As Nick moved to take his seat he saw Charlie’s hand move to draw something crouched in the tree. It looked a little wolf-like, but it was bulky and took more of a human form. Nick watched as the pencil told more secrets than he cared for. The pencil was drawing him. In his usual spot that he thought was hidden. The spot he’d adopted every night for the past twelve years.

“What’s that you’re drawing?” he asked quietly so no one else in the room could hear. Charlie replied just as quietly, “It’s a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah, I kind of sometimes get a feeling like I’m being watched. This tree is outside my house, I feel like something lives in the tree. I’ve never seen anything, I have no actual proof but I just have this feeling.”

“If you’ve never seen it, how do you know it looks like that?”

“It’s just… what I picture it to be,” Charlie shrugged.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

From that moment on, Charlie started to smile at Nick. He responded when he said “hi” in the corridors, and he even started talking to him sometimes in form class. Charlie Spring was opening up, and Nick was loving it. He would nudge Charlie as they passed in the corridors, he’d wait for him when he got off the bus, he would ruffle his hair when leaving form, which initially Charlie hated but eventually Nick would swear he grew to look forward to. There would be shy smiles, little blushes passed between them and each time Nick felt lighter, just knowing Charlie was even just a little happier. He thrived on finding out as much as he could about the boy, he wanted to spend as much time as he could with him. After a few more weeks they’d started spending their breaks and lunchtimes together. Nick noticed people staring but he didn’t care. He was here for Charlie, and Charlie alone.

It was when Charlie started laughing and smiling, showing those beautiful dimples which Nick had forgotten would pop when Charlie was truly happy. The melody of his giggle and the tone of his laugh was hypnotic to Nick and he simply needed more. He spent more and more time with the boy, and slowly but surely, Charlie Spring had become his best friend, his confidante, his unknowing donor.

Chapter Text

Memories are complicated things to remember.

As Nick knelt there, in front of Charlie, he suddenly became aware of just how far they’d come. He was on his knees in front of the boy he desired, about to feel the weight of him on his tongue. He looked up to see Charlie sitting in the chair, completely relaxed, arms laid on the armrests, fingers gripping the material anticipating Nick’s next move. Nick kissed along the inside of Charlie’s thigh, from his knee towards his groin, eliciting a groan which only served to spur him on. He flattened his tongue and made a long lick from the base of Charlie all the way to the tip. The boy before him squirmed in delight and groaned with satisfaction. Nick continued, and swirled his tongue around Charlie’s hot red throbbing tip, collecting the pre cum that had beaded, and was about to drip. He could feel himself straining against his own trousers, and reached down to undo his button and fly.

“N-Nick,” Charlie stuttered. “Nick, do the thing. The thing we talked about.” Charlie's breaths were laboured and heavy with want. Nick knew what he wanted, but he also knew it could hurt.

“You're sure?”

“Fuck yes.”

Nick took hold of Charlie and gripped him tightly, squeezing his shaft to make his tip engorged. He sucked the tip, milking it with his tongue, sucking hard before he started to lap at the underside, rolling his tongue along the sensitive flesh that lay underneath, his grip remained unwavering. Nick could smell the arousal in the air, his senses making him lean into it, the goal, for pain, pain, pain, the monster chanted. Nick shook the thoughts from his head. He made his tongue as rigid as he could, and he stuck it into Charlie's slit, as far and as hard as Charlie’s body would allow. Charlie hissed and writhed above him, his hips bucking at the sensation.

Nick's tongue firmly within the slit, he started to wiggle it slightly, Charlie’s skin tight around him, his saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Up and down, up and down. He pulled it out and went straight back in, all the while his grip remained constant. The boy before him was practically mewling with pleasure. Nick used his free hand to gently massage Charlie’s perineum, the gentlest of touches sending Charlie careening towards the edge.

“I wanna come! I’m gonna, I need to, let me come Nick!” Charlie screamed into the darkness.

Nick released his grip and his tongue in an instant, keeping the pressure under Charlie’s balls for stimulation. Charlie came yelling profanities mixed with Nick's name, white ribbons splashing onto Nick’s bare chest and neck. His orgasm was so powerful and hard that his hips left the chair. Charlie’s body shook and his head rolled backwards as he gripped on the arms of the chair for dear life, as if his body wasn’t his own. Slowly, his orgasm subsided, he stopped spurting semen, and slowly his body started to relax; slowly he became Charlie Spring once more. Nick watched him in awe, he waited for Charlie to look at him before he wiped some of Charlie’s spend off his chest, greedily licking it from his fingers, savouring the taste until they were clean.

“Are you ok?” Nick asked softly as he gently rubbed his hands up and down Charlie's thighs. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, worried because Charlie had offered him nothing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Every time they had been intimate, Nick knew he had to hold himself back. Hold back the monster within that yearned to devour, destroy and digest.

When they had first started kissing, Nick noticed the fingertip bruise marks that matched his fingers perfectly from where he’d held Charlie. He hadn’t meant to mark him, but the lust and desire he felt for Charlie were simply too overpowering. Charlie had paid the bruises no mind whatsoever. Their kisses were hot and hungry. Nick had seemed to have awoken something within Charlie, no more was he the shy, introverted boy who longed to be invisible. When they were alone, Charlie was present. He was demanding, in control and he very much dominated. He would lick against Nick's lip demanding entry. He would map out Nick’s mouth with his tongue, committing every tooth and gum bump to memory. Nick's fangs longed to lengthen, to show Charlie the truth. To accidentally bite him, scratch him, cut him.

Nick saved that for the end of the night.

During the day they would giggle and chat, they would flirt and flatter each other, they would find any moment to be alone, to be who they wanted to be. Nick had started renting a flat nearby to Charlie, he needed an address for school and he needed a ruse to blend in. He also needed a place of safety for them to go back to after school.

One day after school, Nick had walked Charlie home. The reception he’d gotten when they arrived at Charlie’s house was less than welcoming. Charlie introduced Nick to his sister Tori, who unashamedly glared at him from under her long fringe and dead straight hair. The welcome he got from Charlie’s mother was almost as bad. She went even beyond glaring, telling Nick to stay away from her son and to never return to their house. Charlie had snapped at her and invited Nick in anyway. But Nick couldn’t pass the threshold. Charlie didn’t own the house, he couldn’t grant permission. The look in Charlie’s eyes when Nick declined the invitation and took a step backwards, a step back towards the street, shattered Nick. The sadness was immeasurable.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow Charlie,” Nick had offered with his trademark smile.

As Nick sat in his usual spot within the tree, the familiar sounds and scent followed by a weak sob engulfed his senses. Charlie hadn’t hurt himself since they’d started talking weeks ago. Nick hated that Charlie did this, but he felt like he understood it. He too, had been causing himself pain for centuries in a way, rotting away behind the mask of vampirism, using the excuse to be vile, soulless and cold as a release. Now though, Nick had a spark of life, a flicker of hope, a glint of happiness. No longer would he peel someone’s skin like an onion just to see beneath the layer, no more would he indulge in mindless blood play, or tie men up to take chunks of their flesh with his teeth, only to hear the pitch of their screams. Those days were behind him, the thoughts had evaporated, fizzled away into disgust and caused his stomach to swish and swoop in revulsion. Those thoughts reminded him of Ben. He knew this wasn’t the way of a vampire, he knew he could never return home, but Charlie Spring had transformed him. From that very first tentative kiss in the science equipment cupboard to Charlie nibbling and sucking at his nipples, he knew now a different level of pleasure, but it was a new form of pain.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“That. Was. Incredible,” Charlie panted, his grip on the chair loosening as his body became boneless and started to sag. Nick couldn’t help the smile from widening on his face as he watched Charlie’s pulse begin to slow from fast pounding back to a normal rhythm. How he longed for a taste, just one bite. It was so tempting. But he needed to wait. Wait until the end of the night.

The nights always ended the same way.

Nick would utter the words. “I can resist you no longer.”

And Charlie would reply, “Take me Nick, I’m yours.”

Nick would lift Charlie from whatever position he was in and gently lay him on the bed. He would look over Charlie’s smaller body, caress it, worship it and then slowly he would turn Charlie head to one side and his fangs would slowly release. Nick would watch the wonder in Charlie’s eyes, the want held within them. Charlie would repeat, “Take me Nick.” and Nick would bite.

His sharp fangs would pierce Charlie’s flesh, two neat holes and Nick would suck. He would drink. Charlie would reach and would grip hold of Nick, working his shaft into a frenzy. Nick would palm at Charlie, eliciting whimper after whimper, and Nick would drink.

He would suck and devour Charlie, body and soul. He would take and take and Charlie would happily give and give. The crescendo would be when Nick came. His fangs would release, he’d raise his head and with a powerful roar he would come between them. Blood dripped from his mouth while cum dripped from his cock. If Charlie could, if he was quick enough, he’d wrap his mouth around Nick to catch as much spend as he could. But otherwise he’d arch his back into the sensation and come again with Nick. When Nick had regained his ability to focus, he would lap at Charlie’s wound, making the boy hiss and squirm.

“I need to heal you Charlie,” he would say, and Charlie would groan and eventually allow it. Nick would kiss gingerly, he would lick and suck at the puncture holes until they were healed. Until his saliva had healed them. Often Charlie would fall asleep, lulled by the rhythmic licking and gentility of Nick's touch. Nick would then lay beside him, watching the boy rest and recuperate. His body spent in the best possible way. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the tiny snore he would give if still on his back. Nick relished it. And hated his next task even more.

“Charlie, are you listening, can you hear me?” he would say softly next to Charlie’s ear. Charlie would hum in sleepy acknowledgement.

“Charlie, I need you to forget that I bit you. I did not drink your blood. I am not a vampire. You came once tonight, while sitting in the chair. Then you got me off. We chatted for a while about nothing important and I walked you home. I did not taste your blood, I did not bite you.”

“Hmmm,” Charlie would hum in response and Nick knew his words were powerful. He could manipulate the mind easily, and he knew Charlie would only remember what he told him to remember.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Nick remembered the first time he ever bit Charlie vividly. They were in Nick's flat, both lying on their fronts on the floor finishing their homework, when Nick noticed a mischievous glint in Charlie’s eyes.

“You’re supposed to be working,” Nick said with a smirk.

“Yeah, but I’m bored,” Charlie replied, throwing his pen at Nick, earning a huffed laugh in reply.

“You know, we could make this more interesting,” Nick said as he moved to sitting.

“How so?” Charlie asked as he mirrored Nick's movements.

“I could help you. Each time you finish a question, you get a kiss.”

“That sounds… enticing,” Charlie smirked as he picked up his notepad and pen.

“But what if I want more than a kiss?”

“It depends on how hard the question is.”

“Oh it’s hard Nick. Really really hard.” Charlie wiggled his hips from side to side as he said it, showing off his already growing erection.

“I can see that, but first maths. A deal’s a deal,” Nick chuckled as Charlie groaned before starting to write.

…

…

…

“Done,” Charlie declared, placing his pen on the paper and beckoning Nick to come to him. Nick crawled forwards, one limb at a time, long slow movements just to tease. He crawled up and over Charlie’s legs, forcing the boy's body backwards. He could feel Charlie’s pulse rate rising, the sweet nectar that lay within. Nick kissed Charlie’s lips but didn’t deepen it, he kept kissing as he moved his way around to Charlie’s cheek, his jaw, and finally his neck. His fangs started to lengthen of their own accord and he was struggling to restrain the monster within. His sharp teeth grazed the boy's flesh, but Charlie didn’t flinch, he didn’t hiss or whine: he groaned. He groaned in a delicious fashion, in a way that shot straight into Nick's very core. The core he had been denying.

“Bite me,” Charlie whispered, but leaving no room for question. Nick's head started to spin, this hadn’t been the plan, he hadn’t accounted for this. He opened his mouth, saliva filling his mouth in anticipation. He sank his teeth into the skin and Charlie arched his back into it. Nick's body was immediately flooded with the elixir of Charlie, the very essence of him. Charlie’s memories flashed by like a silent movie, allowing Nick to feel the love, the joy, the anger, the pain of his childhood. Nick experienced the bullying as if he were the victim, the degradation, the shame, the hollowness Charlie had come to know. The abandonment, the longing for his father, the betrayal, the pure rage he felt towards him now. The love, the respect, the delight he held for his sister. Nick felt it all as Charlie’s arms flew around him to hold him still. One hand in Nick's hair, the other gripping tightly to his shoulder. Nick swallowed and swallowed. The heady mixture of the scent of Charlie and the taste of Charlie making him delirious with unbridled joy. He didn’t know he needed this, but this was everything. It was euphoric and Nick had never experienced anything like it before. He used to get a glimpse into a person's past, but never in detail and never did he feel everything. The slice of the cold blade on Charlie’s arm and upper thigh, it was as if Nick too had scars. He swallowed some more of the very essence of Charlie Spring, the boy from the car. The boy who had rocked and changed his world. They had now become one. One feeding the other, one hungry for more. It was only when Charlie’s grip started to slip from Nick's shoulder did he pull back. Nick looked at the boy laying on his back, his arms limp by his sides, his eyes rolled, trying to focus, he smiled a small smile and took a deep breath.

“Did you feel that too?” Charlie asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I felt,” Nick stuttered, not knowing quite what to say. It was intense and horrific and wonderful all at the same time. “I felt you,” he said and watched the smile bloom bigger on Charlie’s face. “But I need to take that from you. I can’t let you remember.” Nick sounded so sad even to his own ears. Charlie's eyes flew open and focused on Nick’s.

“Please let me remember,” he whined. “Please Nick. Don’t make this disappear.”

The sound as Charlie begged almost changed Nick's mind.

“Charlie, it’s not safe for you to know,” Nick said with kindness.

“Then at least promise me we will do this again. Even if I don’t remember each time, I want to feel that again.” Charlie's eyes were so blue and filled with sorrow. Nick was transported straight back to that night in October when he found the boy in the back of the car. These were the same petrified eyes pleading with him. Twisting Nick’s insides once more.

“Charlie, I need you to forget that I bit you. I did not drink your blood, I am not a vampire.”

Nick repeated his words quietly but with determination until Charlie fell asleep, before carrying him home at vampire speed. One night he had discovered a loophole, that if Charlie invited him into his room, then Nick was able to enter by the window. He laid him to rest in his own bed and pulled his kitty cuddly out from its hiding place under the pillow, allowing Charlie to snuggle the kitten toy.

“Mmmmhmhhmmhnick,” Charlie mumbled something incoherent in his sleep as he nuzzled into his toy and rolled onto his side. Nick stood and watched over Charlie for a few seconds, one side of his mouth twitching into a smile. He carefully opened Charlie’s window, jumped back out and made his way to his usual spot in the tree, Charlie’s guardian again for the night.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

As he rested his head against the familiar ridged bark of the tree trunk, Nick reflected on what he had experienced when he drank from Charlie. The enigma that was Charlie Spring laid out straight in front of him, heartbreaking, harrowing and fucking glorious all at the same time. As he drifted into the memories once more, savouring the taste on his tongue, he was half aware of a noise within Charlie’s room. A rhythmic rustle, some heavy breathing. He heard the pop of a cap, the satisfied hum of relief. He wanted to peek. He wanted to see. But Charlie deserved his privacy too. Didn’t he?

Nick rested his head back again and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He closed his eyes and in his mind's eye he could see. He could see Charlie’s hand slather lube up and down his shaft. Gliding along the silky skin, the tip beading precome, Charlie shuffled his hips for a better grip and continued.

“Nick,” he muttered, making Nick freeze.

“Oh Nick. Fuck,” Charlie continued. The speed of his movements increased the sounds of wetter skin as his other hand went to his nipple, his finger tenderly drawing circles around it until it was erect. His pumping was relentless as his body twitched and tightened. Just as he came he squeezed his nipple between his fingers hard. His fingers were white with pressure, his nipple squashed, his come spilling over his other hand and onto his stomach. Nick's eyes shot open at the strangled cry of his name. And Charlie's hand continued to pump, the pace continuing as before. The hand at his nipple moved to his tip, swirling around his mess, his body convulsing, his stomach tensing. And yet he continued, until finally the overstimulation became too much and his arms fell to his sides and he lay there, still, relaxed, relieved. Catching his breath, Charlie lay panting in the darkness, his tongue intermittently appearing to wet his dried lips.

Eventually, when he was sure Charlie was sleeping, Nick left the tree. He walked home slowly, hating every step that took him further from where he wanted to be.

Chapter Text

“Would you like to come to Harry’s Halloween party with me?” Nick asked as he sat down in registration.

“I dunno, it’s not really my thing,” Charlie replied, shaking his head dismissively, but instinctively reaching for Nick's hand under the table.

“Please, I want you to be there,” Nick said with pleading eyes, and he meant it. He only ever wanted to be where Charlie was, but he was obligated to go as part of the rugby team.

“Ok,” Charlie said, and Nick wrapped his arms around Charlie’s smaller frame in an instant. “Thank you,” he muttered into Charlie’s neck, smelling his sweet scent with the faintest hint of blood from a few nights ago. Nick couldn’t help himself, he licked Charlie’s neck a little making the boy giggle and crick his neck.

“Nick you big idiot, we’re at school, you can’t get me turned on here,” Charlie said through his giggles, making himself blush.“I’ve missed you,” Charlie murmured as Nick continued to nuzzle his neck.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just been snowed under with assignments,” Nick lied. The truth was he had noticed dark circles begin to form around Charlie’s eyes, and his usual beautiful olive toned skin was looking pale. He needed to feed from someone else, no matter how much it now disgusted him to even think of taking a drop from anyone but Charlie. To taste the thick elixir from someone else. They never tasted quite right after he had bitten Charlie. He had some sort of delicious tang to his blood that made Nick feel alive, and now that he had tasted it he wanted nothing else. But Nick knew he needed to preserve it, he couldn’t be greedy.

“What are you dressing up as?” Charlie asked.

“Hmm?”

“To the Halloween party, I assume it's fancy dress?”

“Oh, yeah, the rugby team are all going as vampires so I guess I’ll just do that,” Nick shrugged, the irony was not lost on him.

“Sounds about right, they’d all suck out your soul given half the chance,” Charlie said under his breath.

“What will you wear?” Nick asked, looking Charlie up and down, and smiling his trademark lopsided smile.

“I have no idea. I’m sure I’ll think of something. Wanna pick me up?” Charlie said, popping the ‘p’ and giving his most earnest puppy dog eyes. It was a look that Nick couldn’t say no to, and Charlie knew it.

“I’ll be at yours at seven,” he confirmed.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Halloween always made Nick uncomfortable. Even when he was in his darkest of days, he resented the reputation vampires received. A mythical beast that is driven by their lust for blood and seduction. Even though this was largely true, he hated the way people wore Dracula costumes, high collars and black jackets, slicked down hair and eyeliner. Vampires just weren’t like that. They blended in, they concealed themselves, they lived amongst the humans. They didn’t draw attention to themselves, and they certainly didn’t wear ridiculous capes and sleep in coffins. They also didn’t have skin that sparkled in the sunlight, that was just absurd. So when Nick had agreed to go as a vampire, he was wearing his usual clothes, but he allowed his fangs to show.

One Halloween that always stuck in his mind had been back in the 50’s. He and Ben had hosted a party at the local gym, they invited all the local high school kids and made it vampire only. They decorated the hall with cobwebs, coffins and everything they could think of that seemed vampire-like. Ben provided lots of fake blood bags that looked suspiciously like the blood bags the hospital used. They had spiders climbing the walls and ghosts haunting the corners. Ben was there welcoming everyone in, increasing their pleasure responses. Nick was busy planting ideas into their minds. They worked in tandem, focusing on the weaker people first. Allowing people to dance and drink and desire each other. Their punch was spiked and the girls were giggling and the boys were untucking their shirts, becoming more free. Nick and Ben bided their time, they allowed them the pleasure of dancing, the hand-jive, rock and roll, they allowed them to get sweaty, thirsty and tired. Tired people put up less of a fight. Nick knew it, Ben knew it.

They continued to work the room, whispering in people's ears; Nick hinting at ideas, Ben making them feel good. It wasn’t long before dresses had been removed and boys were in their slacks. Grinding and swaying together en masse. Hands touching, heads rolling backwards, kisses being shared. The air was thick with lust, the hormones Nick could taste as he licked his lips were indescribable. These repressed teens, finally allowed to be free, to feel free, with no judgement and their behaviour being encouraged, made them even sweeter. The reward for Nick and Ben was even sweeter still.

As Nick danced among them, a male body in front of him, following his movements precisely, a female body wrapped around his back, kissing his neck. The man brought his hand up to palm Nick's face and he twisted his neck to kiss Nick's cheek. The woman was grinding against him, swaying her hips, her breasts pressed against his back, her arms under his, holding the chest of the man in front, all three dancing, grinding, swaying, kissing. Nick licked the man’s neck, chasing a bead of sweat as it ran from his hairline. Their now naked bodies gliding together, over one another.

Nick moved his hand down to the man’s cock, already hard and waiting for him, his other hand reaching behind, finding the woman’s clit. His fingers worked their magic and she panted and writhed against him. Pumping his other hand over the man’s hard cock, swirling his thumb over the tip to collect the pre cum that sat ready to drop. His own erection pressed into the arse crack of the man in front, Nick was grinding, whipping his hips to chase the delicious friction he could feel.

Nick licked the man again, his sweat sweet and salty, warm and delectable. He could feel the woman sucking on his shoulder as her hands moved to his body, while his finger worked her relentlessly and he felt her legs start to tremble. She reached for his cock and delicately wrapped her hand around it. Her knuckles rubbed against the other man’s hole, he started to whine at the contact, Nick continued as he knew his stamina. He also knew they’d taste sweeter when they were high on orgasmic bliss. He started to swirl his thumb around her clit, his fingers delighting in her hot wet body, slipping inside and easily gliding in and out, in and out, while she moved her feet apart to allow him better access.

Nick could feel her stomach contracting as he moved through his well practised motions. He saw Ben pass by and suddenly their bodies went into overdrive. The man in front started snapping his hip in Nick’s hand, the woman pumped Nick harder and harder, edging him to oblivion. He continued thrusting his fingers in and out of her hot wet hole, feeling the ridges, relishing in her moist vagina. He spread his fingers apart a little to stretch her and she cried out with pleasure. He felt his fangs lengthen as his body prepared and he bit into the man’s neck just where he had been licking. He bit hard, and he sucked. Nick could feel the man start to throb, he wasn’t far off either. He doubled his efforts and continued to suck, drinking the delicious blood of a man in ecstasy. Nick was flooded by a rush of endorphins and greedily swallowed with each mouthful as the man before him came. He spilled over Nick's fingers with a cry of pain mixed with pleasure, as Nick sank his fangs in that little bit deeper as he finished his job. The woman kept her attention on Nick's cock, her other hand reaching for his nipple which she tweaked and twisted and flicked adorably. The man’s now lifeless body slumped to the floor. Nick slowly turned to face the woman, twisting his fingers inside and not losing contact. His thumb swiping and swirling and stimulating. He whispered in her ear, “I’m going to drink you too, come for me.”

Her breathing quickened and her body started to convulse. Her hand faltered on his body and she whimpered in pleasure. And then came the pain, as he licked his lips and sank his fangs into her neck. She cried out, but her cries were swallowed by the joy of her orgasm. Her body not her own, Nick was the puppeteer.

He let her limp body slip through his hands as his fangs left her flesh. He brought both his hands to his face and sucked off the mixture of bodily fluids collected from his victims. He stepped over her body, not looking down as he spied his next victim. She was skinny, looked a little shy, wearing a blue dress with yellow flowers dotted on the fabric. She had dark tight curls of hair that framed her face, her skin much darker than all the others. She played with a thread in her dress, winding it around her finger tighter and tighter then releasing, and repeating. He could hear her singing softly along to the music, her voice small and fragile but he could zone into her voice over the din of music and screams. Ben was having his fun, but he was not nearly so subtle or alluring. She was sitting on a chair to the side of the room, a wallflower of sorts. He strode towards her, wearing only the blood of others that had run down his body and the large erection that refused to settle. As he stood in front of her, he watched her chest rise and fall within her dress, pushing her bosom up and down, up and down. He was almost captivated by it, but then he saw her pulse in her neck.

That artery is his favourite. He has drunk from many places on people’s bodies, but he finds there is something intimate and sensual about the neck. The tiny hairs that lie around the back and tickle his nose as he sucks, the smell of perfume that they sprayed hours ago, the softness of the skin. It all just appealed to him.

He felt his cock twitch at the thought, and she finally looked up at him. Their eyes locked, and for a split second he saw the vulnerability, the fear, and he thrived on it.

“May I have this dance?” He asked, extending his hand to her, the other placed at the base of his spine, as he bowed slightly to her. She hesitantly placed her hand in his and he pulled her towards him. This one would be different, he would be gentle. He started to sway them with the rhythm of the music and hummed the tune close to her ear. He knew the song was hypnotic, whilst his voice was seductive but reassuring. He told her softly that she would be ok, he would be kind. He knew that he doesn’t need words to control her mind, everything he needs is contained in the hum.

He slowly started to undo her dress, and pushed it over her shoulders to release her breasts that looked so tempting from above. He was not disappointed. They were plump and soft, and his hands started to caress them, grope them, play with them. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her breathing shallowed. He loved that he could pleasure her before her death. Her dress gone, she stood as his toy, a doll to be used. He moved a curl from her face, admiring her individual beauty, “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Tara,” she replied quietly and he smiled, it suited her.

“Well Tara, I’ll be gentle, just lean into me.”

She moved her hair, brushing it over her shoulder with the back of her hand, and arched her head to one side exposing her neck for him. He ran his tongue over his teeth, his fangs exposing themselves, like two pearly white daggers. He opened his mouth wide, eyes zoning onto that precious artery. Then he pierced her flesh, she hissed in his ear and he sucked harder. She gripped on to him as he fed, gripping his shoulders in her hands, she encouraged him, she allowed him, she enjoyed him.

“Take everything,” she whispered, knowing he’d hear her. And he did. He felt her grip on him start to weaken, her body in his arms became heavier and heavier then the light in her eyes faded and she was gone.

‘Ding dong’.

Nick was distracted from his memories as reached to ring the Spring’s doorbell. From behind the closed door he heard the thunder of footsteps running down the stairs making him smile.

“You are not going anywhere dressed like that!” Nick heard shouted from behind the door.

“It’s a Halloween party, Mum. And anyway, I’ll be with Nick,” he heard Charlie reply sternly.

“I don’t trust Nick, you know that. That boy is no good for you.”

“Mum please, he’ll hear you!”

“Good. I want him to know.”

The door opened swiftly and what stood before him took Nick's breath away. Charlie, slightly breathless from running, was wearing white converse trainers, a red pleated mini skirt, a tight white crop top with red writing. ‘Save the Cheerleader save the world’.

“Hi, Nick, what do you think? I just need blood splatter,” Charlie said as Nick looked on in surprise.

“I,” Nick cleared his throat. “I can help with that.” Nick swallowed thickly as Charlie produced a packet of fake blood and a stick on scar.

“Here, it’s supposed to look like a vampire bite, I thought it would be fun to tell people you bit me,” Charlie giggled, completely unaware of the irony of this situation.

“Come with me Charlie, I’ll make it look really good.” Nick led him around the corner into a little nook between two houses. “I’m going to bite you, but I’ll only drink a little to make it leak,” he whispered looking into Charlie’s eyes. “You will think it’s your stick-on scar and fake blood, then at the end of the night, I’ll heal it with my saliva and you’ll think I’ve just cleaned it off.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Bite me Nick, bite me hard, let me hear my vein pop,” Charlie encouraged.Nick tucked a loose curl behind Charlie’s ear, tenderly angling Charlie’s head just so. He slowly leaned in so as not to startle Charlie, and peppered little kisses by his ear, eliciting a small moan. He arched his head back to open his mouth, his fangs lengthening at Charlie’s scent, the pounding pulse in Charlie’s neck such a sweet invitation. There was a squelch, and a crunch as Nick's teeth broke the skin, and grinding of sorts as they sliced through Charlie’s flesh and punctured the desired vein. Nick swallowed hungrily, he had been denying himself the taste of Charlie for too long. His eyes rolled in his head as the exquisite taste flooded his senses once more. All too soon, he pulled away, wiping the blood from his chin and allowing Charlie’s neck to ooze the crimson jewel.

“There, all done,” he said quietly as he stood straight again.

Charlie gently tapped the wound with his finger tip, “Seems well stuck on. Thank you, can you take a picture so I can see your handy work?”

“Yeah, pass me your phone.” Charlie handed Nick his phone and posed for him blowing kisses at the camera and generally being a menace. “Now one of us both,” Charlie said excitedly, beckoning Nick over. “You could pretend to be biting me.”

“Char, you know I don’t like pictures,” Nick groaned. He didn’t mind group photos, where he could mask his face easily, but close personal pictures left room for him to be exposed, people could notice him not ageing through time. Sometimes he really hated modern technology. “And anyway, we’re gonna be late if we don’t get going,” he said as he handed Charlie his phone back.

“Fine, but we’re taking a picture later. I have zero pictures of you!” Charlie pouted as he slipped his phone into the pocket of the cycling shorts he was wearing under the mini skirt.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The school gymhad been decorated with black, white, and orange streamers. There was a net holding hundreds of balloons at bay, as well as the compulsory plastic spiders, ghosts, skeletons and cobwebs. Everything about this room made Nick shudder.

They carried on in, Nick's eyes flitting around the room, taking it all in. The boys spiking the punch, the girls putting glitter on each other, Ben drinking someone behind the curtain.

Fuck.

Why the fuck is Ben here? How did he find me?

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” Charlie said as he attempted to let go of Nick's arm. But Nick tensed suddenly, his muscles trapping Charlie’s hand between his bicep and forearm.

“Nick?” Charlie giggled.

“We can go together,” Nick said without leaving room for question but not taking his eyes off the far too familiar shadow behind the curtain. He could hear him, sucking, swallowing. He could hear her stifled cries, Ben wasn’t drinking to kill, he was just playing. What is he doing here?

“-ck, Nick?” Charlie had been saying his name a few times, Nick could tell by the disgruntled look on his face.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted punch or juice?” Charlie said with a cup of each in his hands. Nick took the juice.

“What is up with you? You seem really distracted,” Charlie asked half an hour later as Nick's gaze once more was stolen by a subtle movement in the shadows.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he answered as he heard Charlie giggle. “You make it sound like you're a vampire hunter or something.”

“Oh shut it you,” Nick grinned, finally feeling a little at ease.

“Rugby squad to the photobooth. Rugby vamps to the photobooth.” They heard Harry Greene shout into a microphone over the music.

“Ugh,” Nick rolled his eyes and looked apologetically at Charlie. “I’ll be right back okay? Just wait here.” Nick kissed Charlie on the cheek in a rare public display of affection that seemed to even catch him off guard.

“Go, you rugby idiot,” Charlie laughed as he pushed Nick away.

Nick's eyes left Charlie for a split second as he took his place with the team. But when he looked back to where Charlie had been, he wasn’t there. He quickly scanned the room, he neither saw Charlie but more worryingly he also couldn’t find Ben.

“Alright lads, we’re going to take a couple of photos. First one’s a serious one,”

“One, two, three,” the photographer counted them down and clicked.

“Alright now, pretend to bite the player to your left.”

All the boys started larking about, pretending to be in pain or enjoying the stereotypical vampire shenanigans. Nick was a victim which he found oddly amusing as he craned his neck and bared his soul to Otis who had plastic fangs in his mouth and ended up dribbling down Nick’s neck.

The photos continued and with each one Nick became more frustrated as he couldn’t locate Charlie. The bass of the music was too loud to hear his heart and there were too many people to be able to smell him. His eyes continued to scan the room. And then he saw them. Charlie was standing with a fresh glass of punch next to Ben, and he was laughing? Ben was smiling, but Nick could see the all too familiar glint in his eye. He needed to get to Charlie.

“Ben?” Nick hissed as he reached them.

“Nick! Hey, you already know Ben?” Charlie asked with a smile.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nick asked, ignoring Charlie’s question but placing his body slightly between the two.

“Don’t be rude, Nick,” Ben said plainly.

“Sorry, yes, I already know Ben, we met a little while ago,” Nick answered Charlie with an apologetic tone.

“That’s odd, Ben said he’s new to town,” Charlie replied, sounding a little confused.

“Okay, well it was nice to meet you again Ben. We’re going now,” Nick said as he took hold of Charlie’s hand and tried to take him to the dance floor.

“Why are you being so weird?” Charlie asked as he looped his arms around Nick’s neck when they reached the dance floor.

“Did he hurt you? Did he touch you, Char?”

“What? No. He was just asking how long we’d known each other because we looked really happy.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said that we sat next to each other in form and became friends. What’s this about?”

“I don’t trust him, Charlie. You’ve gotta stay away from him.”

“You’re being ridiculous, he wasn’t mean to me at all. In fact he even complimented your stage makeup on my neck. He said it looked really realistic.” Charlie's hand once again reached for his wound and he touched it gently. “Although it’s a little painful, I might take it off.” Charlie took a step back from Nick, “I’m going to the loo,” Charlie stated. Nick nodded, knowing he couldn’t go with him without looking even weirder. He kept his eyes on Charlie as he walked the few feet alone and disappeared behind the door.

“Well well well, I see you have a toy,” Ben snarled behind him, making Nick cringe.

“He’s not a toy,” Nick hissed.

“So you haven’t tasted him?” Ben said knowingly, “Because I think you have. I think you’ve done more than taste him.” Ben circled Nick, running his hand over Nick's shoulders as he moved.

“How did you find me?” Nick asked sternly.

“I have my ways, I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Ben replied, looking Nick up and down.

“I’ve missed you Nick,” he said, taking a step closer into Nick’s space.

“Wait until you see my surprise.”

“What have you done?” Nick questioned, eyes snapping from the toilet door to Ben's smirking face.

“Let’s just say, those balloons are filled with a little more than air. I know how you like your treats covered in blood.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” Nick hissed.

“Mmmmhmm, sure you don’t. Not now that you have your toy.”

“He’s not my toy,” Nick repeated, grinding his teeth.

“I’ll be seeing you Nick, and Charlie seems lovely,” Ben said from behind him. Nick snapped his body round but there was no sign of Ben. He briefly saw the door close and knew he was gone.

Shit.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

At midnight the balloons were dropped, it was a moment that would go down in Truham history. There was screaming, there was running, there was falling and crying. Ben had been true to his word, the balloons were filled with blood and drawing pins so when they fell they made each other pop. Nick had made Charlie stand at the side of the room so they came away unscathed, but the rest of the rugby team and other students were not so lucky. It was horrendous. Nick was mortified that it brought a reminiscent smile to his face.

“Can we go?” Charlie asked, watching the scene in front of him, assuming it was fake blood and a prank from the rugby team.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Nick replied.

As they made their way back to Nick’s, he could barely keep his hands off Charlie. His hands roamed over his body, feeling the lines of his muscles, the soft hair on his legs. One hand found its way beneath Charlie’s skirt, palming at the bulge in his cycling shorts.

“You have looked fucking sexy all night, it’s been maddening. You’ve been driving me crazy in that outfit.”

“Oh, you like a boy in a skirt?” Charlie asked, with a cheeky smile.

“I like you in anything,” Nick replied, pulling Charlie into him, their bodies flush together, their kiss passionate and wanton, full of desire. Both of Nick's hands went below Charlie’s arse, hitching up his skirt as he lifted his feet from the floor. Charlie wrapped them around Nick's waist, neither willing to break their kiss.

“Nick I- I want,” Charlie said breathlessly.

“What do you want, Charlie?” Nick asked as he moved his kisses to Charlie’s neck.

“You, I want you,” he said, grinding his hips into Nick best he could.

“You have me. All of me,” Nick replied.

“Bite me,” Charlie cried into the night.

Nick salivated at the command. Something about Charlie just left him no choice, something within Charlie knew what Nick needed. He bared his fangs and re-entered the puncture wounds from earlier. He sucked, and he whipped his hips, seeking the friction between them. Charlie rolled his hips into Nick as he rolled his head backwards. Nick sucked and drank and swallowed even more of Charlie’s soul.

He felt Charlie’s body go limp, Charlie’s cock lost his erection and his arms sagged to his sides. His breathing shallowed and he was silent. Nick couldn’t help it, he just couldn’t help himself. Charlie was so close to death he sucked a little more as the boy grew paler and paler.

Chapter Text

Time heals all wounds, but Death still awaits us all.

“Muuuuum!!” Nick bellowed as he burst through the door kicking it clean off its hinges. “Mum! Mum, where are you?” He shouted, panic clear in his voice.

Sarah wasn’t his real mum, she wasn’t his mum when he was alive. She was a nurse who cared for him all those years ago. She was the one who found him near dead in his hospital bed, half drained of blood and starting to transform. He had been turned by a vampire, and left to fend for himself. It is a cruel and selfish way to create new vampires.

The process is brutal physically and emotionally.

The vampire drinks from the victim, leading them to the silver line of death's horizon before stopping to drink with only a few beats of their heart left. The vampire drips a few drops of their own blood into the wound, licks over the flesh to seal the blood inside and that’s all they need. The vampire's blood works its way around the victim’s body, their heart is weak but continues to pump. The vampire blood mutates its host, changing each cell it touches. Changing it to something twisted and dark, the anti version of its true self. And the blood multiplies. In the time it takes, the host is in excruciating pain as their body morphs and moulds. It feels like an electric pulse flowing through the body, zipping and zapping everything in its path. Killing and destroying anything good, anything pure.

Sarah had seen it only a few times but she knew the signs to look for. As Nick flew through the door with Ben in his arms, Sarah flinched at how scared he looked. He had been friends with this boy Ben. They were always together, always causing trouble but nothing horrendous. They’d let the chickens out of the farmer’s coop and laugh as he ran around trying to catch them. They’d steal washing from the washing lines and muddle it up with other villagers’ just to watch their confusion. It was harmless fun really.

So when Ben became ill with the plague Nick had panicked. He brought him to the hospital, carrying the sick boy in his arms and begged for help. Sarah was on shift, she knew the policy: no plague in the hospital. She hated doing it but she turned the boys away. Nick had pleaded with her to help, but all she’d been able to do was to give him some water and a bit of food.

To her surprise she saw Ben about a week later, more pale than usual and his eyes were sunken and darker. She had her suspicions, no one had ever survived the plague. So the night she saw him hunched over a villager, with blood running down his chin and his claw-like fingers ripping the flesh to pieces as if he were a lion, she shuddered at what would become of Nick.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Nick became ill with the plague too, it was a ruthless beast that couldn’t be tamed. Sarah bent the rules, she had the ability to take away pain, so she whispered in Nick's ear, and she broke his arm, snapped his bone like a twig and admitted him to hospital. She, of course, reset it and healed it soon after. She nursed him as best she could, but like all the others Nick wasn’t getting better. And when the boils started forming she knew it was only a matter of days.

So, one morning when she saw him lying in the bed, looking lifeless, her heart sank. She felt a bizarre mixture of sadness and relief, until she saw his eyes move. She moved closer and saw two small holes in the side of his neck, badly sealed over and there would certainly be a scar. It was careless and it seemed rushed. She could hear his heart, struggling to continue. It creaked with pain as it tried its best to beat again. She placed her hand on his forehead, as if it were her window into his mind. She could see what he could see. And it was horrific. Nick's body was on fire. He was screaming internally, his tears sizzling away before they had a chance to fall. His blood turned to poison, changing him from the inside out, snuffing out all that made him Nick and replacing it with darkness. Sarah knew instantly that he was turning.

She felt sick that he was alone. She lifted his body and took him back to her hut where she lay him on her bed and sat with him, whispering comforting words to him. Even this pain was too much for her to take away, but she could - and would - be a comfort. The removal of one’s soul was something you deserved to feel.

It wasn’t long before Nick started to open his eyes. He squinted and scrunched his face, unknowing where he was. The light was so bright, all his senses heightened. He could hear the horses clacking their feet on the cobbles outside, he could hear the chickens mindlessly clucking away on the farm on the other side of the village. He could hear all the voices of everyone talking, he could hear the wind, taste the pollen in the air. He started to panic.

“Shhh, shhh,” Sarah cooed, “you’re safe sweetheart. You’re safe here with me.” Nick flinched at her soft words, even those too loud to his ears.

“Wh-where am I?” He asked with a husk to his voice, his throat sore and his mouth dry.

“You’re in my hut Nicky, you’re safe my darling.”

At the mention of his name, Nicky, knowing only one person called him that, his body relaxed. He believed her, he knew he was safe.

“Sarah?” He asked as she passed him a glass of water, knowing it wasn’t what he needed but rather what he would expect. He took a sip and promptly spat it all out, grimacing. The water tasted like acid on his tongue.

“What is happening to me?” He asked, his eyes wide with fear.

“I promise I will tell you. When you are ready to hear it. But for now, would you like something to drink?” She asked, holding his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Not water,” he croaked, making Sarah chuckle a little. She stepped away from him and moved to a cupboard. To Nick’s shock and horror, Sarah pulled out a man who looked like he was gagged and bound to a chair. His wrists and ankles tied tightly. It took a moment but Nick recognised him. It was Sarah’s husband?

“Nick I know you don’t really know what’s happening right now but I want you to meet Stéphane. He will provide for you.” At that, the man tried to raise his arm. Sarah swiftly reached down and untied the rope. The man, not taking his eyes off Sarah, presented his wrist to Nick as Sarah soothingly stroked his hair. “Good boy,” she said softly, and Stéphane rested his head on her body.

Nick looked at the stranger’s wrist, his eyes focusing on the bouncing vein just below the surface. He licked his lips, salivating. He looked up to Sarah who nodded her approval. He sniffed the man’s wrist and as his top lip brushed the skin, his fangs grew. Nick instinctively opened his mouth wide and bit.

His teeth pierced Stéphane’s skin, sinking into the soft flesh beneath, then the red nectar flowed into his mouth freely and he knew he needed to suck. He needed it like a human needed oxygen. His shoulders raised as he pressed the wrist firmer to his mouth, his tongue rippled, milking the vein beneath. His eyes rolled backwards in ecstasy, as he groaned, sucking deeply at the open wound.

His body suddenly felt alive, more alive than it had done in a long time. His mind began to clear, but he was distracted when Sarah quietly cleared her throat, his thirst left unquenched as she placed her hand on his shoulder, a silent ‘that’s enough’. He drew back from the arm in front of him, Stéphane now completely slumped against Sarah. Taking his arm from Nick’s firm grasp she licked the new wound. Nick watched intently, not even blinking, a line of blood dripping slowly down his chin. His eyes turned from black to honey brown, she was showing him how to heal with care and kindness. A few moments later, Stéphane took a deep breath in through his nose, it would have startled Nick if he hadn't been watching so closely. Sarah slid the gag from out of his mouth and kissed Stéphane on the cheek, making the man smile before she placed him back in the cupboard. “Sleep now my love,” she said softly as she closed the door gently.

“He’s my husband,” she said plainly. “I don’t keep him there all the time. Just when he needs to heal, we don’t want him walking around looking like a ghost now, do we,” she chuckled. Nick sat there completely befuddled.

“What’s going on Sarah, what’s wrong with me?” He asked with tears in his eyes, his emotions bouncing around his mind, unsure where to land.

“Oh baby. You’ve been turned. I, there’s no easy way to say this. But sweetheart, you're a vampire.”

Nick sat stock still, just blinking, trying to process the words he had heard. He zoned in and out of the noises in the room, in the village. He focused on the smells he could sense, fresh bread from the bakery down the street, the gangrene on someone’s foot in the hospital, the shit in the public wash. He could sense it all. It was powerful and overwhelming.

“Vampire? But, but how?” He looked down at his body, he padded his hands over himself, he felt the firm muscle beneath.

“It takes an existing vampire to make you,” she said softly with love in her eyes. “Nicky, darling. You were dying, you had the plague.”

“So that means someone can turn me into a monster?” he shouted, instantly regretting his tone.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so, so confused.” He relaxed his body and fell backwards to lay on the bed. Staring at Sarah’s ceiling, looking at the aged cracks, the straw poking through from the thatching, the tiny spiders building their webs.

Nick wanted to ask, he wanted to know, but he couldn’t seem to form the words. His mind wouldn’t allow it, but he knew he needed to know eventually. He needed to ask who made him. But until he was ready for the answer, the words in the question would sit heavy in his chest, a weight to keep him grounded.

Sarah took care of him, helping him understand himself as a vampire. She helped him realise his talents - his strength, his speed, his type of mind control. She taught him how to control his fangs, how to stalk and pick and choose his prey, how to eat without making a mess. How to enjoy the abomination he had become. She taught him how to avoid the sun, and she provided him with her own blend of creams to protect him from the sun if unavoidable. She became a mother to him, teaching him and supporting him through the early years of vampirism.

She taught him how to pick someone that would stay with him and allow him to feed. Someone who would take care of their needs both nutritional and physical. She explained to keep her life simple, she would always find someone called Stéphane or Stephen. Nick found a girl called Imogen. She was a bubbly villager, a bit ditsy but kind enough. After watching her for a short time, following her at a distance, witnessing how she lived, one overcast day he approached her and using his vampire skills, he wooed her during her afternoon stroll, and that was all it took to hold her under his vampire spell. He manipulated her to be his person. Knowing that vampire saliva could heal wounds, he realised that repeated use also seemed to lengthen their persons’ life. Each Imogen he found, he kept for 20 years. Then he would devour them and slowly peel the skin from their bones, feeding it to animals nearby. He would scatter her bones in nearby forests so as not to draw attention to one place. Sarah had taught him well.

Nick was on his third Imogen and he was enjoying a quiet life. He had asked which number of Stéphane Sarah was up to, but she simply smiled and replied, “A lady never reveals her age.”

Sarah had helped him adapt, and realise that being a vampire could be a useful thing. They could care for the sick without getting ill, which also handed them plenty of snacks along the way. So he too, became a nurse at the hospital.

He had been with Sarah for 150 years when Ben returned.

Something strange happened when a vampire stayed with or met their maker. It seemed to unleash a primal animal, an insatiable beast in the person that had been turned. Sarah tried to warn him, but as Nick's eyes turned darker she knew she had lost him. He left that evening and Sarah rarely saw him again. She kept tabs on him, which wasn’t difficult; a massacre here, a slaughter there, she knew if it were him.

It became easy to spot the tell-tale signs, victims called Imogen popping up frequently, and for Ben, he preferred Charlotte’s, or Colette’s or Lottie’s, all on the theme. Sarah despised Ben for taking Nick's soul, she hated the monster he had created out of such a kind hearted innocent boy, she wished Nick had been left to die and rest peacefully. But alas, he was Ben’s toy, he wielded him and moulded Nick in his image and together they were devastating.

Sarah knew who had created her. His name had been Stéphane; not long after they had started courting they had gone out for a walk along the river. He had complimented her, saying her eyes sparkled like the dancing stars in the sky. All those years ago and she remembered it as if it were yesterday. He abandoned her to transform and learn on her own. She had never forgiven him, so she took her revenge every evening when she drank from a Stéphane and cursed the original one. She had carved a life for herself over the centuries, she had settled and created a rhythm of life that worked to keep her secret and keep her safe.

She discovered that her maker had tried to find her once, and even after all this time, her anger towards him had not subsided. On the day of his death, Sarah was feeling particularly ruthless and lured him into a trap. She mourned her old life but she had worked too hard on her own to build herself back together again to allow him to jeopardise her achievement. It was the one time she had enjoyed torture and murder. Murdering the undead seemed acceptable, but she never wanted to be a savage beast. She paid her penance by taking in new vampires and caring for them in her own way.

So when Nick came bursting through her door, as infrequently as it was, she was still not at all surprised. He always returned to her when he needed to, he loved her and Sarah was always there for him. She took him in as if he were her son, continued to care for him and hold him dearly.

It had happened a few times when he had killed people by accident. He formed a bond with them, he would spiral about it for a few years and lay low with Sarah while avoiding Ben. He would slowly start to feel his true self come back, his soul take form, the monster within would lay and rest. Until Ben would reappear, that is, and the cycle would start again.

One time Nick came home, he had four men tied together all bearing Stéphane’s name. Knowing Sarah's hatred for the name, he presented them to her for her birthday. A tradition held by the undead, that every 100 years those in close circles would bring gifts to one another.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Nicky?”

“Mum, help me,” he pleaded as he stood in her doorway holding Charlie's limp body in his arms. The boy was barely alive.

“Nick, what’s happened? Who is he? Are you turning him?” she asked with fear in her eyes. Nick had never once turned someone, he was adamant he didn't want to curse someone to this life. “If you turn him, you can’t be with him,” she stated.

“Help me save him, Mum,” he cried. She rushed over and took the lifeless boy from his arms.

“He weighs nothing, Nick,” she said with concern. She lay Charlie on her bed while Nick grabbed her nursing bag on his route to follow. She cannulated Charlie easily as Nick fetched some IV fluids from Sarah's supply. The perks of working at the hospital, she always had medical supplies. He grabbed a bag of O-Negative blood from her blood fridge. He primed the lines, his years of nursing flowing back through muscle memory. Sarah connected them to Charlie, she took his observations and set him up with a blood pressure machine. His blood pressure was low, his pulse slow and his temperature not nearly where it should be. She wrapped him in blankets and dimmed the lights to allow him to rest.

“Now we wait, Nicky. He needs rest, you brought him here just in time. Any longer and I think we would have lost him.”

“I can’t lose him Sarah, I can’t,” Nick pleaded, running his hand through his hair with nerves. Sarah looked at him quizzically, he knew exactly what the look meant, if he was able he knew he’d be blushing.

He had come out to Sarah many many years ago, before there was a name for it, before he even knew what it was he was feeling, before he could understand it, way before the 18th century. She was of course understanding and accepting, she never questioned Nick or made him choose. He made the decision to keep an Imogen around, decade after decade he had a girlfriend or wife as a cover, but in the shadows, in the dark secluded privacy of his own making he would take a man, enjoy a man and then drain a man leaving nothing to be found.

“You really like this boy?”

“I love him Mum. I didn’t know I could feel this way,” Nick said as his eyes filled with tears. He glanced at the lifeless body on the bed, hooked up to fluids and blood. A small smile played on his lips.

“I’ve followed him since he was young, I’ve watched him grow, seen him struggle and flourish and now he wants me. He has chosen me, Mum. I can’t lose him now. This is Ben! He did this. I- I normally stop, I normally only just take enough, but I couldn’t. I just, I couldn’t stop Mum. It was like I wasn’t myself.”

“Oh Nicky baby, calm down sweetheart. He will be okay. He just needs time. How often do you drink from him?” she asked with concern.

“Maybe once or twice a week? I try to limit it so he doesn’t suffer, but Mum, he begs me. He loves the pain, he thrives on it. He causes himself pain and when we’re, you know, he thinks of ways to make it hurt and then release. It makes him taste electric, the endorphins… we’re both addicted.” Nick could feel his fangs start to ache with desire. The memory of tearing through Charlie’s supple flesh, sinking into his body, becoming one. Nick shook himself out of his reverie and focused back on the body in front of him.

“The elders won’t be happy with this,” Sarah said softly. Nick nodded a knowing reply.

“Bringing a human to the lair is dangerous. You know it’s forbidden.” Nick nodded again.

“I know, Mum, but I needed you,” he said, looking up at Sarah with desperate need in his eyes. “Charlie needed you. Fuck the elders,” he said with venom.

“Nick! You be careful. They can retaliate and they won’t hesitate to punish you.”

“Punish me? They need to find Ben! He’s messed everything up. I walked away from him and he’s never forgiven me, he promised he’d ruin me and he’s found the perfect way.” Nick sobbed into his hands.

“Oh my sweet boy, Ben has been nothing but trouble for you for too long. The best thing you did was cut him out of your life. But you knew he wouldn’t take it kindly,” she said, placing a cup of warmed blood in front of him. He took it with haste, he was hungry.

“Can I ask one thing?”

“Of course, Mum.”

“Why is he dressed as a cheerleader? And what have you come dressed as?” She asked with a mischievous smile and a wink. Nick groaned and rolled his eyes.

“We were at a Halloween party, I’m a vampire. And he’s the cheerleader from Heroes,” Nick replied with a smile, knowing Charlie loved his costume.

They continued to chat over warm cups of blood, Nick told Sarah all about Charlie, how he’d found him in that car, how he’d watched him grow and succeed, how his love for the boy had morphed and transformed with age. And now it was a love beyond measure. But he did begin to wonder if the pain was worth the pleasure.

Chapter Text

Let me deliver you into the gentle hands of Death.

They came silently like moths in the night. Nick didn’t see them coming, Sarah didn’t sense their presence until it was too late. Their staff had been struck to the floor, and before Nick could process what was happening, his head was bowed, a hand ran over the back of his neck leaving four clean slices in its wake. The mark of an elder, their nails like razor blades across his skin. He could feel his blood seep from the wounds, the nape of his neck trickled with crimson that beaded and fell down his spine. It stung with a venom that made it burn, but he kept his head respectfully low and showed no sign of discomfort.

He knew Sarah had been treated differently. She was standing beside him, head low with respect, her wrist had been taken and punctured. A single hole made by a thumb nail, deep and raw. She left her hand dangling by her side, her thick blood slowly dripping from her fingers. The room remained silent, Nick knew better than to speak as the elders moved around the room. Their cloaks flowed as they seemed to glide across the floor. Their hair a silver white, and their skin a stone grey, Visha had the staff which never touched the floor except when demanding a command.

The two elders loomed over Charlie, prodding the boy's body with their fingers, one of them bent and sniffing at his skin, “His radial pulse is weak.” “His carotid artery is still plump.” “But he’s tainted by this.” A finger nudged the blood bag hanging at the bedside as they muttered between themselves. Then one of them, the taller one, leaned close to Charlie’s ear, enjoying the pounding pulse in his neck, his tongue poked out to touch and a tiny lick was taken. Nick could feel the anger burn within him, he strained to control his trembling rage; how dare they touch Charlie.

“Nicholas Nelson, you have defied the order.” One of the elders, Xavier, said as he stood straighter to face Nick with an echo of authority to his voice. Nick remained silent and still. “You have broken a sacred rule of the vampire lair,” he continued, and again Nick remained silent and still.

“You will be punished for your actions. I could snuff out the tiny ember of flame left within this child,” Visha crowed as he again leaned closer to Charlie’s body, seemingly listening to his heart. Nick raised his head slightly to look, anger boiling behind his eyes.

“Do. Not. Touch. Him,” Sarah ordered before Nick could move. She moved swiftly and with the grace of an elder, her wrist now completely healed as if nothing happened. She placed her hand on Visha’s arm before he could lay it back on Charlie.

“Serephina,” he whispered as he retracted his arm and stood with a bowed head. Nick watched in awe and the atmosphere in the room changed in an instant. It was less bitter but no less tense.

“Serephina? I didn’t know,” Visha said meekly as he withdrew into himself.

“Nicholas is under my protection. There shall be no punishment,” Sarah declared, without raising her voice, but the intent was still present. Nick had never heard that tone before, he had never heard her be called Serephina before, he had never known respect as she was being shown before. She caught his eye and he saw the familiar sparkle within.

“Visha, Xavier, I suggest you tell Alaric, if he has an issue with Nicholas, he will report to me. Now, I have someone to care for, if you don’t mind?” She said with a strange kindness to her voice as she gestured to the door patiently waiting for them to leave.

“Of course, Serephina,” Xavier and Visha said in unison as they bowed their heads once more, and walked backwards towards the door, not turning their back to Sarah. On his way past Nick, Xavier brushed his hand once more over Nick's neck, over the oozing wounds healing them instantly with his touch, the only remaining proof of any damage was the small pearls of blood that lay congealing along the faint marks.

Once the door was shut, Xavier having lifted it back on its hinges, Nick took a deep breath in and rushed over to Charlie’s side. He had a thousand questions buzzing in his head, yet nothing mattered more than Charlie. He took hold of his hand, feeling the fragility within his grasp. He felt cold, light and brittle.

Sarah walked to the kitchen and switched the kettle on. She placed two mugs on the side and within her glass teapot she placed a herbal ball.

“He’s going to be okay, Nick. He just needs time. Come on sweetheart, come and have some tea with me,” her words were full of love and comfort and Nick couldn’t help but to step away from Charlie. He released his hand reluctantly and watched Charlie take slow breaths in and out as he walked toward the kitchen without taking his eyes off the boy.

As Sarah cleared her throat he whipped his head at the sudden noise and saw her teapot placed in the centre of the table. Nick watched as she dropped a strange looking ball into the boiled water and it started to bloom. As the water infiltrated the tight dried ball, he watched in wonder as it delicately burst to life. He gently sniffed the air as he watched the small green bud elegantly unfurl into a graceful arch of jasmine flowers laced with intricate silver needles of tea. Together providing a subtle taste of green tea enhanced with a whisper of jasmine. He already felt calmer just watching its magic. It was only a few moments and Sarah poured them both a cup.

“So,” Sarah said quietly over the rim of her cup.

“So,” Nick replied, with a fond and knowing smile. “You’re an elder then?”

“Well, I suppose you could say that, although I’ve never much liked the term,” she replied, scrunching up her nose and waving her hand dismissively in the air.

“And your name is actually Serephina?”

“Well, technically, but I haven’t used it in such a long time.” Nick snorted a little knowing he’d known Sarah for over 700 years and never once had he heard that name.

“Who turned you?” he asked. He didn’t mean to, he knew not to, Sarah had only ever told him his name was Stéphane. Nick watched as she took a deep breath, composing herself, a small sip of tea and she looked straight at him.

“He was a man who broke my heart, and he was a man who lived over 2000 years ago.” Nick's jaw almost hit the floor, he knew Sarah was older than him, but that age brought you respect, and a type of protection within the vampire world. He’d heard rumours, whispers, stories that elders had developed extra powers over their years, a sort of evolution to help them move through the centuries. Of course, most elders isolated themselves from society, having their meals and playthings brought to them by younger, more disposable vampires. But even that was seen as an honour, to serve an elder.

“So you’re…” He put his mug down, afraid his shaky hands could spill its contents. Sarah nodded as Nick's mind pieced together the information.

“Why me?” he asked as he looked up at Sarah. “Why take me in?” he clarified. Sarah seemed a little surprised by the question, but it was a flash of emotion which she quickly masked with a trademark warm smile.

“Because you were such a sweet boy. You were always so kind and funny, you never minded being around people, and you were kind of tall?” The last fact she said as more of a question. Nick knew he was tall but he never would have thought it a factor before. “I just, I saw you in the hospital bed, alone and in excruciating pain. I could feel your pain, sense what you were going through and I had this undeniable, overwhelming urge to protect you, care for you, be a mother to you. It’s so hard to explain, but I just couldn’t do anything else, leaving you there didn’t make any sense,” Sarah replied as if it was a secret she had been holding for too long. And soon enough her body was supported by Nick's warm embrace as he wrapped his arms around her.

This woman who had taken him in during his hour of need, cared for him, healed him and loved him regardless of the atrocities he had committed. She was always there, and even now, today as he broke a sacred law, she stood by him, revealed herself as an elder and put his name to hers for protection. As they sat at the table sipping their tea and catching up properly, Nick's body began to relax. He could still feel the effect of Charlie’s blood in his system. It almost seemed a waste now, he couldn’t enjoy the usual euphoria he craved, he couldn’t float on the high of Charlie’s taste. He had been so scared of losing him, he had run so fast, and so far to get Charlie to Sarah, his body had actually ached. But now, in the presence of Sarah, and the jasmine tea he relaxed. Nick relaxed and he allowed his tears to fall.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Nick ran across the field, he caught the ball as he jumped in the air and continued to run. The burn in his muscles was delightful, the sweat on his brow made him feel alive, the mud on his shins, his forearms, his face and his knees told him he’d played a good game. And as his legs carried him past player after player, he flew through the air and then smashed the ball into the ground in a triumphant flourish. His team mates leapt on top of him as he lay on his front on the cold wet ground. He loved the weight of them as they piled on top, he loved the feel of their bodies moving as one. Grinding and writhing together as they celebrated the win. Nick knew he could have won the game in his sleep, his vampire speed could give him an advantage, but he played dumb, he slowed himself and he blended in. He wanted to win on their terms, by their rules. Because only then the reward would be even sweeter. Ben knew it too. Ben always knew to organise an after party. A warehouse, a factory, a school hall, he was never too choosy. They worked together, in tandem, a double act, a dastardly duo, a deadly mixture of light and shade.

He watched as the team arrived, all jeering and happy, still high on endorphins. All youthful and healthy. He watched as Ben lured them in, got them to drink, made them all tipsy. He watched as Nick delved into their minds, sweetened the deal as Ben planted ideas in their brains. Ideas as before, the pattern never changed. Get them tipsy so their blood is thinner and quicker, easier to drink. Lower their inhibitions so they dance loose and free. Kiss and touch and love and feel no fear. They realise nothing, until it’s too late, until they are trapped, until it is their turn. But by then it is far too late. Their screams are swallowed by loud thumping music, the bass of the band. Their shouts for help drowned into the night. Their panic, softened by Nick easing them into submission. Ben's mind games helped them not see what was coming, covering their sight in a veil of uncertainty and wonder. Nick's hands made him want to close his eyes, but he couldn’t, no matter what he tried, he was forced to watch as Nick made love to several people at once in various different ways, bodily fluids flowing freely until he bit them, and drank them dry. Sometimes Nick would bite them just to taste, but he’d bite over and over in different places, just to see his teeth marks ooze blood all over their bodies.

Charlie didn’t want to watch. It was like the worst version of a horror movie. But as though he were in ‘A Clockwork Orange’, he was being forced to see. His eyes held open by an invisible force, he willed himself to look away, turn his head, shut his eyes but he couldn’t. All he could do was watch the monster within Nick work in his prime, devour and desecrate the people before him. It was primal, it was brutal but it was also alluring. Charlie knew he shouldn’t want to watch, but seeing Nick pleasure others, seeing Nick be pleasured by others, seeing his toned body, covered in sweat and blood and tears and cum. Charlie didn’t want to not see. It was a sweet form of torture to see but not touch, as Nick sauntered past him, fully naked and fully erect. He wanted to reach out, to be the next victim of pleasure, but just like blinking he just couldn’t. He was being tested by Satan himself, he was sure of it. He tried to call out to Nick, but no matter how loudly he screamed, Nick's attention never wavered. It was as if Charlie was watching a memory, a very distant memory. But it wasn’t his to see. How can he? How is he? What’s happening? The panic began to build within him. Something wasn’t right. Something didn’t feel right, this was wrong, all wrong. The images before his eyes started to speed up, flickering through like a child’s flip book. Faster and faster and faster, Nick's movements became jagged as if affected by strobe lighting, Charlie’s mind unable to keep up. The blood, the cum, the tears all blended as one, the kisses, the strokes, the orgasms, the bites all happened so quickly. People bleeding, people suffering, people dying before his eyes, bodies fell to the floor. Littering every spare space as Nick stepped over them as he moved around the room. Charlie's voice was hoarse from shouting, screaming and crying. When had he started crying? He just wanted to blink, look away from the scene before him. Then the screen went blank.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

A man strapped to a wooden vice, one like the stretching racks Charlie had seen in the London Dungeon exhibition one time. His arms strapped together above his head, his legs both tied at the ankle, stretched out wide. He was gagged and blindfolded with rags. Blood dripping from his nose, he snuffled and snorted as he tried his best to breathe. Nick in front of him, on his knees, his lips around his hard cock, Nick’s hand palming himself to mirror his mouth's movements. The man started to groan, his legs trying to shake, and Nick continued. His head pulling forward and back, forward and back, Charlie could hear the wet sounds they were making between them, and then, suddenly the man let out a blood curdling scream, his legs shaking against their shackles. Charlie knew he was coming, hard, how long had Nick been teasing him, edging him to within an inch of oblivion? But there was something else, the scream was soul destroying, it hurt within Charlie’s chest just to hear it. The man’s face was twisted between ecstasy and anguish, then he saw it, the blood dripping. Nick came off the man’s now flaccid cock, it was dripping in blood, two lines either side, Nick had carved into him with his fangs as he came. He had drunk everything the man had to give. The man’s head hung forward, his body limp and only supported by his restraints. Pain and pleasure, pain for pleasure, his pain and Nick's pleasure. Charlie couldn’t decide which was most accurate as he saw the freeze frame in front of him as if someone had hit pause. Once again Charlie tried to scream but only a garbled noise seemed to escape him, as if screaming underwater. He wanted to close his eyes, look away, but this torment wasn’t over.

Then the screen went blank. That was worse. The darkness, the silence. It was worse.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

What the fuck is going on? Charlie's heart rate was too fast, he could feel it beating against his chest as if his heart was trying to escape. The lights came back on, blinding him momentarily as he adjusted out of the dark. He was placed in yet another scene, this time he saw three women, all dancing happily. He must have been in the 1920’s since they were dressed in flapper dresses with their hair styled just so, set in a room filled with mirrors and art deco adorned with black and gold. It was elegant and decadent and screamed expensive.

Nick arrived, all suave and attractive. He was dressed in a tuxedo, tailored to fit him perfectly. He sauntered in as if he owned the place, and people’s heads turned as he moved around the room. Like Bruce Wayne in Gotham City, he attracted attention but no one approached him. He walked with an air of authority, a celebrity figure of sorts, Charlie could see people whispering, twitters and chatters, ‘ooo’s and ‘aww’s. Nick didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he paid it no mind. It looked like he had only one goal.

The girl at the far end of the room. The girl in a wedding dress?

“Imogen, my love, may I have this dance?” Nick proclaimed as he bowed to the girl, one hand behind his back and the other extended to her.

“You may, my love, my husband, my Nicholas,” she replied with a smile, taking his hand in hers and stepping forward on to what Charlie now recognised to be a dance floor.

The house band started playing ‘Ain’t Misbehavin’’ by Fats Weller and Nick spun his bride around the dance floor with style and grace, she seemed to float effortlessly from move to move within his expert hands. Charlie had never seen him move in such a way, he had rhythm, he had gentility and he looked to be enjoying himself. He spun her, twisted her, supported her and dipped her. Then he kissed her, passionately with what could only be called fans clapping all around them. As they finished their dance, Nick held Imogen close, Charlie could see him whisper something in her ear but couldn’t tell what, he squinted to see more clearly. He watched as Imogen gently brushed her hair from her neck, she arched her head perfectly to one side. Nick supported her lower back as she extended her arch with a flourish. Charlie watched as Nick opened his mouth, his fangs extending and glistening like the diamonds on the chandeliers. He sunk them into her. She didn’t wince, she didn’t fight, her body became limp in his arms. A waiter came with a wheelchair and placed it behind her, but Nick, once he had tasted enough, scooped her up in his arms, and carried his bride out of the room. Not a single person said a word as small drops of blood trailed behind them. As Charlie watched Nick exit he felt a tear escape and roll down his face as the door closed. It was then he heard a voice, a faceless voice in the darkness. It was cold, and eerie. Charlie felt the chill run down his spine like an ice cube.

“One of his many ‘Imogen’ brides. He likes to drink but never hides.” Then the screen went blank.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Hush, little baby don’t you cry, Benny’s gonna sing you a lullaby.”

The voice sang softly in the darkness, offering Charlie no relief. He felt something brush past his face and it made him flinch.

“Shhh, shh, shhhhh, we don’t want to wake Nicky boy just yet,” the voice cooed softly, Ben's voice.

Charlie started to shake his head furiously from side to side, trying to rid himself of the voice, of the feeling that was pumping through his body. His body. His body was stuck. He tried to move his arms, stuck, heavy, weighted down. He tried to move his legs, stuck, heavy, weighted down. Now he was trying to move he realised he could feel a cold, hard something across his middle, pinning him to the cold hard surface he was laying on. It wasn’t the soft warmth he had known. It wasn’t the comfort of a mattress or a pillow. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness. He could smell something, he took a deep breath in, he felt the cold hard something tighten across his middle as his body expanded. Jasmine? What the fuck is going on?

Chapter Text

Hello darkness my old friend.

It was cold, and the room smelt different. No more Jasmine, but stale… something. Charlie couldn’t name it. He couldn’t help but shiver, since suddenly the only thing he could focus on was trying to identify that smell. It was dark, far too dark to see anything at all, and it was silent. Too silent. He tried to move his head, but felt a strap across his forehead holding it down, the sharp edge digging into his skin. It was useless, even if he could move his head, he couldn’t focus on anything in the pitch black oblivion before him. A complete sense of nullity washed over him, he felt small, weak, and powerless.

All at once there was a cool breeze over his skin. Any skin that was uncovered, that was - his cheerleader costume offered no protection. He tried to move his arms with no luck. They were shackled out to the side. He strained his eyes left and right, but it was futile, he couldn’t see anything other than the blurred outline of his own nose. He could feel the binding around his wrists as he jerked frantically but fruitlessly to move them. Tied painfully tight, and restrictive to the point where his fingers felt numb and tingly. The cold band across his middle remained, and as his breathing quickened in panic he felt the skin of his ribcage hit against it again and again and again. Calm down, calm down Charlie, calm the fuck down, he told himself. Panicking definitely would not help him escape this - whatever this was.

He didn’t bother trying to twist his ankles free, since he knew they were tied just as tightly as his wrists, each ankle stretched out and secured by uncomfortably hard restraints to the corners of the slab he was splayed out on.

Another cool breeze.

That irked him even more, where was it coming from? There was no window, he couldn’t see any light to give away even the outline of a door. He wanted to scream, but silence. No noise escaped him.

Yet another cool breeze, this time joined by a gentle hum of something electronic.

Then, in the darkness, little red numbers shone. An alarm clock, he gathered, since 02:56 flickered in the darkness. Charlie had no way of knowing if that time was even true, and honestly, he didn’t care. But the little red numbers, and the tiny red dots that flickered each second were something to look at, something to ground him, something to help him focus at least.

The softest of touches skimmed over his cheek, and his breath hitched in surprise at the touch, his heart racing in his chest yet again. He instinctively twisted his lips to one side in a vain attempt to move away, his back jerking and twisting off the hard, cold, unforgiving surface to no avail. The touch stayed, and his body shivered again, the room was just so cold, he could feel the goosebumps rise on his flesh. He could feel the gentle tap of his skirt hem, and a new cold patch where one of the pleats had shifted to expose more of his upper thigh. The breeze had gotten stronger.

An ear piercing scream ricocheted around whatever void he was lying in, the scream of a woman. She sounded scared, so, so scared. And in pain. Her screams were like something out of a Hitchcock film, relentless and impossible to ignore.

“No, no, please!” she pleaded, breathless as if she had been running, but Charlie could tell it was pure fear. “No, noooooo!” she screamed again as a dull, wet thud sounded and the screaming stopped.

Then, heavy breathing. A panting beast, it sounded like. Charlie could hear the wetness of its breath, the saliva collecting and dripping thickly from its mouth. He heard its jaws gnashing, tearing and ripping flesh. He heard the splatter of blood hitting a wall, and the growl of the beast in its delight.

The noises made Charlie want to be sick.

The breathing, it was as if he could feel the hot breath across his cheek, he could feel the primitive growl vibrating through his chest, and the smell of blood, sweat and a faint twist of floral perfume curdled within Charlie’s nose.

Bile rose in his throat, and he vomited, despite his best efforts not to, panic forcing a silent sob before his body betrayed him. Unable to twist his head he choked on it, forcibly spitting it out, and he cringed at its acrid warmth as it spilled down his chin onto his neck, and seared its way into his nostrils. He heard his stomach contents drip onto the slab with a splash as he retched, his stomach contracting until it ached and every last drop had left him, just bile burning his throat as he spat it out the best he could, his head forced to stay still by the strap.

The smell of his own vomit permeated everything, his brain unhelpfully conjuring pictures of him eating his dinner happily before Nick came to collect him, but now it held a sinister twist. It had obviously been his last meal.

His mother had cast her usual opinion, unsurprisingly. “Charlie, what are you wearing? You look like a slut.” “Charlie, take yourself seriously.” “Charlie, boys will take advantage of you. Go out in a skirt and just see what happens.” Her words had been venomous at the time, chipping away at his confidence and self assurance. Charlie knew better than to listen, he’d worked hard to build that confidence in the first place, but he just couldn’t help hearing it. Each poisonous word had been backed up by Harry and the rest of the bullies, each action Jane had taken against him - rationing his meals, refusing him water, gripping his arm too tightly. Every action over the years that he could remember flashed through his mind. Even moments he had buried, and refused to think of, the moment Julio left, the moment Jane hit him for the first time, the time she’d dragged him through the living room by his hair, the time he’d dared to fight back and her rage had hit a whole new level. Then, the moment he cut himself that very first time, and the shoddy bandage job he’d done afterwards with shaking, bloody hands - the process far messier than it ever needed to be. Those eyes that looked at him when he was in that car seat all those years ago. It all flashed through his mind, it was dizzying, maddening and heartbreaking. But one thing Charlie did realise through all that was bleak. He realised he was vertical, as the acidic bile from his chin dripped down onto his clothes.

“Like what you see? What a sad, sad, little story, his favourite thing; to skin them alive from coccyx to cranium.” A cold voice whispered with a sneer right next to Charlie’s ear. ‘Fuck off’ he wanted to snap, but he couldn’t form the words. He wanted to flinch away, but he just couldn’t move, the sharp straps holding him, cutting into his skin as they fought against his weight. ‘Wake up, wake up, wake up’, he told himself over and over again. But it came with a cackle of laughter from the breeze. He wanted the words out of his head, but they’d taken root, spreading through his body like poison.

“You think this is a dream? How sweet. This, my dear, sweet, innocent little Charlie, this is a nightmare.” The voice was dripping with false sweetness, a harshness behind it that filled him with dread.

He heard material ripping from somewhere close, a slow, methodical noise like scissors through fabric, or a knife through frozen butter. It was a clean cut, then a rip, and he felt that breeze again, but this time it brushed over his bare chest.

“Look at those bones, how neat they look through your skin, how prominent. And that stomach, hmmm…” Charlie heard the hum of want and smacking of lips, more than a touch of hunger to the voice. “So sunken that I can see your blood flowing.” The voice continued, in a snake-like fashion. The voice was ghosting over his newly exposed torso like barely there fingertips, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The chill in the air made his hair stand on end, his nipples painfully tight and erect. He wanted to curl into a ball, he wanted to hide. No one had seen him this way, only Nick, and only ever through the veil of darkness and shadows.

Then, he felt it. The ghost of a touch turned to fierce pain, like a burning wire on his skin, a rough, dragging movement from the edge of his clavicle, towards his throat. A piercing heat of burning flesh, slow and deliberate. He wanted to scream but his jaw was locked shut, frantic, shallow breaths rasping through his nose. His eye let out a single tear, and its journey down his cheek was a blessed relief from the searing pain he could feel across his chest.

“… Look at your pretty little chest, opening up just for me. Not enough though, let me help the skin a little.”

Charlie felt something hard against his bone, he didn’t want to look down, he didn’t want to see, and he was glad he couldn’t - his eyes searching the infinite darkness for anything to distract him. The image in his head was infinitely worse. It flooded his brain against his will, a flat metal knife laying over his collarbone. It was inching its way under his skin, prising it free, ripping through the sinew, separating it like the top layer of an onion. He felt his blood dripping down, cooling as it tracked across his rib cage, into the divot by his hip. He tried not to breathe because breathing hurt even more.

“Oh, but you like that, don’t you Charlie boy? You like the cutting. Don’t you? Go on, answer me.” The questions were like ice on a bonfire, as a chill ran through his body that he could only assume would turn into the numbness of shock. Fuck he wanted to feel numb. He wanted to pass out, or leave his body, or something. Anything. Because the truth was, he did like the cutting, but he only liked it when he did it. It was all about control, and at the moment he had no control at all.

“I said answer me, didn’t I?”

Charlie opened his mouth to speak, and the first sound he could make, the only sound his body allowed him to make was a small, pathetic whimper, and he hated himself for it.

The truth was, the metal blade was sitting under his skin, a foreign object invading his body, only against his will.

A boyish giggle was what he heard next, and then another burning sliced through his flesh, causing him to arc into the slab, unable to fucking escape it. This one was from the top of his sternum down, a straight line down his chest. It burned like acid, and for one ridiculous moment Charlie panicked about infection. It was deeper; it tickled his bones, bumping over the ridges of them as it tore its way down his body.

“Oh Charlie. Look at you. Look at you bleeding for me,” the voice said with a smug satisfied tone, followed by a sick, pleased chuckle. Charlie just wanted his heart to stop. He wanted his blood to stop flowing, he willed himself to just not, fucking, bleed. But the burning line continued, down his stomach, through the softer skin. His muscles tensed, making the voice hum and groan in delight. It left a sour taste in Charlie's mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate not to whine, of all the sounds his mind and body could conjure, a whine was not what he wanted. So he stayed silent. He looked behind his eyes, into his memory, and forced himself to think of happier times. Times with Tori, times at the zoo, times in the park on his own, times with Nick. Those eyes. Those eyes, those honey brown eyes from all those years ago, the eyes that looked at him full of concern, curiosity, confusion. Those eyes he’d seen so often in his dreams. He needed them now, he needed them to promise everything would be okay.

But the burning continued.

The smell of stale vomit, the darkness, those little red numbers stubbornly continuing to show 02:56, the tiny red dots continuing to flicker. His eyes rolled back as he lost focus. Straining to see, straining to stay present. The pain was excruciating, and then, just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore of it, it stopped. Gone as quickly as it came. The metal blade was slowly, agonisingly slowly removed from under his skin, grinding against his bone. He refused to scream. A gentle hand touched his finger tips, caressing them tenderly.

“Such slender fingers, such beautiful hands,” the voice cooed. The tip of what felt like lips brushed Charlie’s nipple, and he couldn’t help it, the sensation made his cock twitch.

“Ah, interesting. There he is,” the voice became gravelly as the lips brushed past him once more, then a warm wet something licked over the top. A cool breeze followed, making him shudder and his cock twitch once more.

“You do like that,” the voice said, sounding pleased with himself. “Shall we find out what else you might enjoy?”

There was a loud clinking, metal chains grinding against each other, and Charlie started to tip forwards. He could feel his body press against the restraints as he sagged forwards - searing the open wound on his skin. The sharp edges of the straps on his forehead, his abdomen, wrist, and his ankles increased tenfold, his body weight held at these five points. He felt his skin flap open where the metal blade had prised it apart, the cold air rushing in foreign, and unwelcome. The pressure in his head, gravity working against him. The cold slab his back had rested on slowly pulled out, dragging down his body and making it shudder as it left him unceremoniously attached to a frame. He could no longer see the little red numbers of the clock stuck at 02:56, his one little facet of reality, the one thing keeping his focus. His entire back now exposed, his ripped top was sliced yet again down the middle and fell to his sides. He couldn’t help it as his breathing quickened, and all the slices to his torso throbbed as the new pressure made his blood ooze out yet again.

Then the burning started again. Across his shoulders, left to right, a signature. Three large letters. Three slow, tormenting letters that he could easily follow: B.E.N.

Charlie allowed another tear to escape into the perpetual darkness, he was in the hands of Ben of all people. Of all creatures. Of all earth’s vilest creations, it had to be Ben. A burning flame licked its way down his spine this time, firing up his synapses, the pain all encompassing. Every faction of his body screamed at him, begging for it to stop. But the blade didn’t stop. To the base of his spine, the crack of his arse. It sliced through his skirt which fell away with ease. A finger pressed into the tiny space between his cheeks, and he tensed his muscles on impulse.

“Yes, oh you good boy, yes make it tighter for me. Let’s see what you can stand, shall we?” The breath was hot over his back, but as it caught the small drop of blood collecting there was a cool relief.

“What does Nicky boy see in you, hmm? What makes you so damned special for him to turn his back on me?” Ben snarled as he licked his tongue forcefully between Charlie’s cheeks. He hummed delightfully. “Delicious. Does he make you sweat?” He asked, flattening his tongue and licking again. “Do you sweat when you come? Shall we find out?” Another lick. Charlie's skin was crawling, he felt disgusting. Unable to keep his muscles tense any longer, he released and the tongue instantly went deeper with a guttural moan as he licked at Charlie’s hole. Charlie could feel his face pressed against him, his nose nestled between his cheeks. Then he felt his fangs as they grazed the sides of his muscle. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop the whine that escaped him.

“You like that don’t you? Yes, keep whining for me Charlie. I can give you pain and pleasure. I know that’s what you like. I can sense it,” Ben sneered seductively. Charlie wasn’t whining out of pleasure. He whined because he was ashamed that his body was reacting the way it was. Here in the darkness, strapped tightly to a frame and hung face down, Charlie’s body had betrayed him and he was hard, and weeping. He practically bit through his tongue to stop his noises as it ached with want, more with each deep pass of Ben's tongue. He wanted this torment to end, he just wasn’t sure how he wanted it to end. He could feel the pit of his belly start to stir and tighten as Ben lapped against him, his breath mixed with the motion was slowly sending Charlie into a frenzy. It felt shamefully good, and his body was willing his brain to give in, tears falling freely. He felt ashamed that it wasn’t enough, that he needed more, his body started to ruck against his shackles, seeking friction that would never come. Ben, deliberately not touching his body in any other way. Charlie perpetually caught on the precipice of euphoria, his hardness straining and begging for attention against his deeper will. The darkness only aided him in escaping to a fantasy, his mind imagining Nick between his thighs, Nick showing him attention, Nick prising him apart and loving him, Nick, Nick, Nick.

Nick.

That was the thought that pulled him from his haze. This was not Nick. This was not what he wanted. He whined again, but it was a whine to say stop. He tensed his muscles trapping Ben's tongue between his taut cheeks, the only way he could protest.

“Trying to fight back again, are we? I admire your tenacity, but I assure you it will be short lived.”

Charlie whined again as Ben dragged his tongue all the way up Charlie’s spine collecting the beads of blood as he went. As he got to Charlie’s neck, he inhaled deeply over his artery. The feel of him close to his neck made Charlie shudder in disgust, but he was powerless to stop it.

“I could bite you, you know. I could drain you, and there isn’t a single soul here to stop me. Your precious Nick isn’t here to stop me,” Ben whispered with a growl, and then licked all the way up Charlie’s neck to his jaw. Charlie whined, and mentally kicked himself. He wished he could make a different noise, why can’t I make any other fucking noise? He yelled at himself in frustration. His body was aching, bleeding, covered in his own vomit and bile. His muscles were on fire and he was tiring fast. He felt so fucking small, and weak. He felt a thud against his heel, his skin chafing against the rough material as the cold base was replaced along his back, stinging and re-opening the cuts that were still oozing. The clinking of the chains returned, and the pressure on Charlie’s head eased as he was slowly turned back to vertical. He could see the soothing red numbers of that infernal clock. 02:56, forever 02 fucking 56, the tiny red dots just flashing to taunt him, telling him that time was passing, yet it remained stagnant. But at least it was a break in the darkness, the black of eternity, hell.

Charlie’s body jumped as he was suddenly touched by something cold rolling over his stomach. He tensed his muscles again as his breathing quickened in surprise and fear. When would he get a fucking break?

“I know you like pain Charlie, but I want to give you pleasure. Only one problem. I want to fuck something Nick hasn’t.”

Charlie had no idea what that meant, but he knew Nick had touched him everywhere. He tried to control his breathing as the cold metal continued to roll over his skin. What is that? What is he going to do? His mind kept chanting as the metal rolled left to right and back again. His eyes were wild, trying to see anything in the darkness, but they could only find those little red numbers. 02:56 was nowhere near as comforting as it had been before.

“I'm going to pierce you with this fire poker, and then, sweet boy, then I’m going to fuck the new hole I’ve created,” Ben said with utter malice. Charlie whined, the only noise permitted to escape. Ben seemed to take it as encouragement.

“Left? Or right?” Ben asked as he tickled Charlie’s flesh with the tip of the poker, side to side and back again.

“I can see your muscles tense as I tease you. You like this, I know you do. You’re practically begging for it.”

Charlie felt the tip of the poker stop just below his right side ribs, he felt the pressure against him increase, his skin starting to tighten as it dipped with the tip pressing inward. He smelled a thick, pungent smell of burn, barbecues in summer, heard a sick sizzle that he couldn’t understand. The pressure increased, he didn’t breathe, just waited for the inevitable pop of his skin, as his cells finally gave way. The relief of pressure was exquisite, but as the poker tore through his muscles touching his nerves, ripping the hole bigger, the pain was punishing. He couldn’t help but breathe in, only exacerbating the poker's route into his body, but he felt no blood dripping this time, only heat, white, hot burning that radiated through him. Ben twisted the poker within his fingers, a mocking laugh as Charlie whined, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Worse came when the poker was slowly pulled out. It caressed Charlie from the inside, gliding past his muscle, grazing his rib and slick past the flesh opening. Charlie was finally able to take a deep breath in, but it pulled taut, like scar tissue. The poker hadn’t been cold, but white hot, his poor overwhelmed nerve endings unable to tell the difference.

Ben hummed, displeased. “Nope, not good enough.”

A sudden tear ripped a pained cry from his throat, as four fingers jammed into the cauterised wound, and pulled in separate directions.

He could feel his blood dribbling out of the puncture, running down his side. He felt Ben’s finger catch the running blood, he heard his groan and the sickening wet noise as Ben sucked his fingers.

“Want to taste?” Ben asked as he scooped more of Charlie’s free flowing blood. Charlie felt him wipe his fingers over his whimpering mouth, and he sucked his lips in around his teeth, desperate not to taste himself, but Ben pushed harder. Charlie’s teeth were pressed into his lips so tightly he could taste blood in his mouth regardless, but the taste was immense as Ben's fingers breached into his mouth. The thick viscous substance formed a layer on his tongue making him gag as Ben slid his fingers deeper and deeper into Charlie's mouth, and a dull, blunt object teased at the entrance of the newly stretched hole. ‘No no no, please,’ he thought, trying to squirm away, after everything feeling so stupid for this being his breaking point.

Charlie was just about to vomit again, when there was a sudden flash of white light. He squinted his eyes at the blinding scene, Ben’s fingers flying from his mouth with no grace or ease. Charlie couldn’t see anything, just for a different reason this time, the light was too bright for his eyes, and he couldn’t adjust. But then he heard a low growl that didn’t come from Ben.

In that moment his body was renewed, all cuts and slices healed in an instant, his puncture disappeared, the blood no longer in his mouth, his shackles purely imagined. The pain had dissipated, his clothes now fully intact, and he could breathe.

It had all been in his mind. Ben had been playing games, but Charlie wasn’t sure who had won.

Chapter Text

The shadows Death casts in the light of day.

The bright white light started to blur around the edges, it was disorientating and painful for his eyes to adjust. His arms felt weightless as he moved them to rub his eyes, his left hand had something in it. It hurt a little, but nothing to what he’d just experienced. His hands flew to his chest, to his clavicle where the slice had been, where his skin had flapped and a metal blade pressed underneath. Now though, nothing, not a blemish. His hands roamed his body, checking all of the invisible scars, the cuts, the burns. He found no trace, his clothes were intact, his arse was untouched. The confusion was overwhelming. The scent in the room had changed, it was warm and comforting, the air was fruity and soft, with a gentle breeze. He was laying on something soft, his head atop a pillow.

Charlie was dizzy with perplexion, he just couldn’t figure out what had been real, what had been a dream. A dream? No, a nightmare. He had no idea what had been the nightmare, or how his brain had conjured it up. The images of Nick, in different moments in time, with so many different people, pleasuring them, then, biting them? Killing them? Nick was gentle and loving, he had the energy of a golden retriever. Never would Charlie have thought he’d kill anyone. But his brain had imagined otherwise. But it all seemed so real, it all felt so real. He took a deep breath in, relishing the fact it didn’t hurt. In through his nose 1, 2, 3 - hold 1, 2, 3 - breathe out through his mouth 1, 2, 3 - repeat. It helped to centre him, soothe him, bring him back to the tiny pain in the back of his hand. His eyes slowly began to focus, he looked at it: a small cannula. Taped down securely, with two lines attached - one red, one clear.

His arms felt weak, his body ached, he had a headache and his mouth was dry. Charlie tried to sit up but his body was stiff and his muscles were tired, even as he raised his head from the pillow he felt light headed and woozy. He lay there, staring at the ceiling. The lampshade above him was nice, it was an up light that had flowers etched into the glass, and would cast a pretty glow once switched on. He turned his head to the left and saw the wall beside him, wallpaper adorned it, a grayscale forest of trees that looked neverending. He rolled his head to the other side, and that’s when he saw two figures clash in front him. His mind had been so focused on his body, and the vortex of confusion he’d been occupied with that Charlie hadn’t heard the noises before. The grunts, the gnashes, the thuds, the smacks, the growls, the roar. The single most bone chilling sound he had ever heard, the roar, a war cry. It was angry, but a type of anger that only boiled up on the rarest of occasion, the John Wick type of anger when he found his puppy dead, the type of anger that is completely indescribable, the hot anger that burns in the eyes of the person and they can see nothing but red and hatred. That was the type of anger embedded in this roar. It was guttural, primal and it made something ache within Charlie’s heart.

He could make out two silhouettes, one had charged at the other, one was big, muscular and broad, the other was smaller, skinnier, longer. Both packed power and dominance. Charlie watched in horror as arms were drawn backwards, thrust forward and thrown into the other body, heads were knocked off kilter, bodies were punched, ribs were broken. The smaller punched the bigger in the stomach, doubling him over, before punching him again with an uppercut so forceful that the bigger man flew backwards and smashed into the wall, the beautiful wallpaper ruined with a larger crack and body shaped dent stamped into it. He shook the rubble from his hair and regained his bearings quickly to grab the back of the smaller one’s head, yanking backwards, bending his neck unnaturally with a howl. Charlie saw the lithe neck swallow, his Adam’s apple bob up and down nervously, the mouth fell open unable to stay closed, but there was a devious glint in their eye. A swift elbow to the ribs and the bigger bent over double releasing the smaller with a gasp. As they parted, it was only then Charlie could squint and make out and recognise that it was Nick. Nick was here, and he was fighting. Fighting for what? For whom? Fighting Ben? Charlie only just met Ben, what was going on?

“N-Nick?” he croaked quietly, but Charlie went unheard as the two bodies came back together with another crash.

“Stay out of my head!” Nick growled as he caught Ben's head between his bicep and forearm, squeezing with all his might, his muscles bulging, his veins straining.

“Fuck you, why is he so special?” Ben spat in a breathy husk. Then in retaliation he bit through Nick's flesh to make him release his hold. Charlie watched as Ben tore Nick's flesh from muscle. Nick shoved Ben away from him, making him stumble and fall on the floor.

Nick was panting, shaking his arm and Ben ran towards him as Nick turned his back. He leapt onto Nick’s back, wrapping his legs tightly around his waist, all ten of his razor sharp nails digging into Nick's shoulders. A roar of pain filled the room. Nick started flailing his arms, trying to reach behind him as Ben dragged his nails slowly through Nick's flesh, leaving deep red ravines in his wake right down Nick's shoulder blades on to his back. Nick was heaving and twisting and his jaw was gnashing, saliva flew through the air, his fangs caught the light and looked terrifying. He looked out of control, maddened, desperate. Charlie could smell the metallic tang of Nick’s blood as it poured out of the fresh wounds.

Suddenly, Nick jumped into the air, straightening and tilting his body so he landed backwards, onto Ben's body. The crack of bones, the crunch of Ben's body was so loud in the quiet, it was deafening. Charlie could hear the breath leave his body. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. He watched as Nick rolled off Ben's now limp body, Ben's legs falling to the sides. He watched as Nick rolled his shoulders backwards, righting himself to standing. He cricked his neck, and looked at the body on the floor before him. Charlie watched with curiosity as Nick rolled Ben's body over. Making him lay on his front.

“Never again will you torment me,” he boomed with determination as he stamped on one of Ben's legs, just at the knee, a sickening crunch ringing in Charlie’s ears. “Never again will you control me,” another stamp to Ben's other leg. “Never again will you touch Charlie.” This time the stamp was to Ben’s lower back, the snap of his spine reverberated through the room. “Never again will you hurt anyone that I love,” Nick yelled as he lifted his foot once more.

“Nicky!” A woman’s voice broke the moment and Nick stumbled backwards at her interruption.

“Mum?” he asked.

“Nicky, he created you, you can never undo what you’re about to do,” she said calmly.

“You killed Stéphane,” he spat back, staring at her, his breathing heavy, his body tense.

“I did. But I have never felt complete since. Your creator is a part of you, remember that.” The kindness in her voice was a tone Charlie had rarely heard, it was caring and loving and without judgement. It was the tone of a mother’s unconditional love.

“Ben is no part of me,” Nick spat with force, anger filling his words, anger and disgust. Charlie watched as the woman, Nick’s mother, turned her back and walked away. Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off Nick, his shoulders red with his own blood, his breathing heavy, a war within him on show, obvious to see. As the body below groaned, Nick's head snapped to look down.

“Roll over,” he commanded with no emotion, only strength. Ben groaned again, and flipped his body over to lay on his back.

“You are a pathetic little man, a vile excuse of a being. You have caused me to do awful, hideous acts that I am ashamed of, you have controlled my mind for far too long, and now I’m taking it back once and for all,” Nick said, his eyes not leaving Ben’s. He lifted his foot one more time, and with all his might, with all of his hurt, determination and strength, he stamped it down.

The scream was blood curdling, it shot through Charlie’s body and made bile rise in his throat. The feeling was rapid and intense. Teeth flew in all directions, parts of Ben's skull flew in all directions, blood splattered in all directions. Nick withdrew his foot and stood looking at the sight below him. Ben's lifeless body, a pool of blood and brains where his head used to be. Nick wiped his shoe on Ben's stomach, removing parts of Ben from the tread of his sole. Charlie watched in horror at the action. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, he didn’t want Nick to notice him. That person who had just been fighting, who had just killed Ben wasn’t Nick. Not his Nick. His Nick was kind, gentle and loving. Charlie quickly laid back on the bed, shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

“I know you’re awake Char, I can hear your heart beating fast. I can feel your breathing move the air and I can taste the fear around you,” Nick said quietly, but in a tone Charlie hadn’t heard before, it was stern and cold, it was menacing. Charlie remained still and silent.

“Charlie, what did Ben show you? What did he do?” Nick asked as he turned to face Charlie. Charlie peeked one eye open the tiniest bit and saw panic on Nick's face. He also saw blood, anguish and pain. Concern and love? He looked at Nick, opening his eyes fully, he took in his body, the blood, a heady mixture of his and Ben’s, he looked at the ripped clothing, he took in the bite marks now healing, the parts of Ben's head that had remained on Nick's boot. It was an impulse, his body working on its own, but Charlie’s vomit erupted from him, spilling over his chest and sploshing onto the floor as he twisted from the bed. Eventually he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he took in gasping breaths, tasting the acid on his tongue.

Nick took a step toward Charlie, his boot squelching on the carpet, Charlie instantly shuffled back on the bed, into the corner, holding his arms around his legs.

“Charlie, it’s me, it’s Nick. Ben he, he can’t hurt you anymore,” Nick said imploringly, but Charlie shuffled his feet closer to his chest, his arms held tighter around his legs. His eyes remained wide and he shook his head, so slightly it was almost just a vibration.

“Charlie, Char,” Nick continued as he took another slow considered step towards Charlie, the boy quivering with fear on the bed.

“He can’t hurt you anymore.” Nick’s voice was so soft, it had once been comforting, now though, it fell on Charlie’s ears as disconcerting, almost threatening.

“He showed me, I-I saw…” Charlie couldn’t stutter anymore words. His eyes had filled with tears as he continued to stare at Nick.

“I saw you. You killing, eating, fucking. I saw you Nick, I saw you in different times. What the fuck did I see?” Charlie asked, desperate for some kind of answer.

“H-how did I see? Why did I see?”

“Charlie,” Nick said, resounding now that he needed to explain everything. He needed to tell Charlie what he was. He needed to tell him he was a vampire. He took a steadying breath and was just about to speak when Charlie continued.

“He cut me Nick, he sliced me and tortured me, and abused me, and I, I’m so ashamed. He knew things about me, things only you know. How did he know those things Nick? How?” Charlie had started shouting, his fear had dissipated and made way for anger. He released his body from the coiled spring and stood at the side of the bed, adrenaline coursing through him. Charlie only swayed a little at being vertical, he ignored the head rush and kept his eyes on Nick.

“He did unspeakable things to me Nick, but you!” He shoved Nick's chest with both hands as hard as he could, Nick didn’t even wobble. “You have done far worse. You’ve taken parts of me that I can never reclaim, you have taken my heart and my soul and you did it with kindness and love. You fooled me. You tricked me, you brainwashed me. You fucking lied!” Charlie screamed in Nick's face having stepped closer to him, spittle from his words landing on Nick's face. “This is your fault Nick, all of it.” Nick stood there silently, looking at Charlie with nothing but sadness in his features. His shoulders slumped forwards, he was a shell of the beast that had been in the room just moments ago. He raised his arm to touch Charlie’s shoulder, “Don’t fucking touch me! You don’t get to touch me Nick, not now, not ever,” Charlie screamed. “You lied Nick, you made me fall in love with you, but everything about you is a lie,” Charlie said quietly as his voice cracked in pain, a heartfelt pain that Nick despised.

“You think I don’t know it was you. That I don’t remember the exact shade of your eyes. The eyes I’ve dreamt about each and every night I can remember. You don’t think I’ve been yearning for the man, for the monster that saved me, for you. The thing that promised me everything would be okay. Have you finally come to deliver? Make good on your promise, the promise you made to a scared six year old boy?” Charlie shouted as he ripped the cannula from his hand and stepped past Nick, not looking back, not wanting to see, not caring.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Would you like me to take you home dear?” The kind woman asked as Charlie walked towards her, away from the carnage of the other room.

“Umm, no, no thank Mrs. Nelson,” Charlie stuttered, wiping tears from his eyes and snot from his nose.

“Please, call me Sarah,” she replied with the same kindness and love as she had shown Nick.

“It’s not quite what you think, you should let him talk when everyone’s calmed down,” she squeezed Charlie’s shoulder as he tied his converse.

“Calm down? He fucking killed someone in front of me, what even is he?” Charlie asked with a scathing tone.

“He’s a vampire,” she replied as if it were the most normal thing for Charlie to hear. “He’s a vampire that just killed his creator to protect you,” she added. Charlie looked at her, hearing her words but not understanding the weight of them.

“I-I met Ben at the school Halloween party,” he spoke quietly, almost untrusting his own voice.

“Yes, I’m sure you did. Ben had, well he had a way about him. He could manipulate people’s minds. Their subconscious minds, normally.”

“What?” Charlie asked, confused.

“It’s not important now, what is important is that you are okay. Are you okay?” she asked, offering him a cup of her jasmine tea. He looked quizzically at the blooming tea within the clear teapot, having not seen anything like it before. The smell though, it seemed familiar, it stirred something within him, anxiety perhaps, he’d smelt the tea before.

“How did -”

“How did Ben get to your mind?” she asked, as if anticipating Charlie’s question. She gave him a warm smile, and pushed the plate of biscuits towards him, he took a bourbon biscuit and started to nibble the edge.

“One thing about Ben, he was always very fast. Faster than any vampire I have known. He came and he drugged us, Nick and I. Then I guess he just sat next to you. Whatever it was you saw, or felt, or experienced, it was pure fiction, his fantasy. You can’t believe anything that happened.” Sarah spoke so plainly, as if it was simple to ignore the lies Nick had told, ignore the pain that had been inflicted, the pain that no matter how unreal it was still left an ache in its wake, a memory of pain, a mental scar if not a physical one. He took a sip of his tea and continued to eat his biscuit slowly.

A few nibbles later, his eyes met Sarah’s once more, “Why am I here?”

“Because Nick was scared you were going to die, and he knew I could help.” Once more Sarah’s candid version of the truth was refreshing. It wasn’t sugar coated and it wasn’t hidden, she told Charlie how it was in the simplest terms. What she hadn’t told Charlie was that it was Nick's fault that he was close to death. Nick under the influence of Ben. A toxic combination.

They sat in silence sipping their tea. Until their comfortable silence was broken by Nick standing in the doorway, leaning on the door frame looking very sheepish.

“Charlie?” he said softly, as if not to startle him. Charlie stood from his chair, adding distance between them.

“Char, come on. Please?” Nick was begging Charlie to listen. He had stepped closer to the boy, but for every step forward Nick took, Charlie retreated the same towards the door. Charlie took a last look at Nick and turned his back to face the door.

“I love you,” Nick said softly, his heart on the line for Charlie to take or break.

But Charlie had his hand on the door handle, he paused for a split second then pushed the door open and walked away. He walked away from Nick, from Sarah, he walked away not knowing where he was, or where he was going. He stepped into the night, but somehow that felt safer than staying.

Chapter Text

Was it all worth it as you stare into the face of oblivion?

In the week that followed, Nick felt nothing but empty. He felt empty of emotion, devoid of feeling and worst of all, he hadn’t fed. His body was empty, weak and hurting. He felt an ache in his chest, where his heart used to beat. An ache he didn’t think he’d ever feel again.

Sarah had warned him that killing his creator would leave him feeling incomplete, but it wasn’t Ben’s absence that made his body yearn, made his mind race with apology. It wasn’t Ben’s demise that left him not wanting to feed, punishing himself, not wanting to exist. It was Charlie. Charlie had walked away from him without even a glance backwards. Nick had told him he loved him and he had walked away as if it meant nothing. Nick hadn’t known he could feel that way again, as a vampire he’d never felt anything but numb and the craze of blood lust.

The boy from the car seat all those years ago, he had cast a spell with those piercing blue eyes, he had made Nick feel more alive than he ever thought possible. Through the years, as Nick watched and protected, those eyes remained constant. A constant beacon that called Nick forward, made him be better, his best self. His existence had become so much better because of that curly haired, blue eyed boy.

But now that boy was gone. He had walked away, and everything Nick had loved about him had been ripped away and that was even worse. Nick had tasted perfection, experienced the lilt of Charlie’s giggle, felt the way his body moved, his muscles tensed beneath his hands, he knew what Charlie liked, how he made his tea, every tiny nuance of Charlie Spring had become the fabric that held Nick together, stopped him slipping into the darkness, turning back to Ben. Charlie Spring wasn’t only his lifeline, he was the love of his life. A love he had been searching for and not knowing he needed for over 700 years. And he had fucked it up.

He knew he had fucked it up the moment Charlie looked at him with fear in his eyes. The split second Nick let his monster show, the instant he killed Ben. Charlie knew he had been lied to. He knew Nick had withheld from him, taken advantage of him, and almost killed him. And for that Nick would never forgive himself.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Ben's body had turned to ash within moments of his demise, all remnants on Nick's clothing, his hands, his boots blew away in the wind. Sarah assisted Nick in collecting as much of it as they could. She gave Nick a Tupperware tub and they scooped Ben inside. Nick sealed the lid, and taped around it, ensuring it didn’t spill. They sat together in silence, Tupperware between them on the table.

“What am I going to put my sandwiches in now?” Sarah asked, not taking her eyes off the box. But it had the desired effect, Nick huffed out a laugh and smiled warmly at her.

“I’ll buy you a new lunchbox,” he said with humour in his voice.

“Are you going to scatter them and let the wind take him?” she asked once their laughter died away. Nick looked at his mother and shook his head.

“I’m going to pour them into the river. The water can wash him clean and hold him down like a prison.” Nick knew they were just ashes, mere fragments of the person, but he didn’t want them to be free, he didn't want them floating around for all of time. He wanted them heavy and wet and cold and destroyed and then epiphany hit, he knew exactly what to do with Ben.

“I don’t want my box back,” Sarah added, knowing just what to say to break the mood, lighten the thoughts she knew were swirling in Nick's mind. He had a long history with Ben, a long and complicated relationship, they had been friends, for better or worse, they sort of loved each other as brothers. She knew this would weigh heavily on Nick’s conscience.

He stood from the table and kissed his mother on the head as he walked past. He collected the Tupperware of tub and tucked it under his arm, pulled the door gently behind him and allowed its soft ‘click’ to ensure it was closed. Nick made his way to his car and sat in the driver's seat. He didn’t use the car very often, trying to keep the facade of his younger age. But as he sat in the cool leather seats and tightened his grip around the steering wheel, his first generation 1960’s Ford Mustang was a treat to drive. He bought it straight from the manufacturer as soon as they were released.

The one perk of being immortal means you can invest and make money in start-up companies that grow into huge empires. He and Sarah worked together to cultivate their fortune and they made sure they never wanted for anything. Nick tried to redeem his soul by donating to charities, the more time he spent with Ben, the more Sarah would donate in his name. And when he broke free to stay with Sarah again, he thanked her endlessly. Ironically, he had never let Ben inside his car before, worried he’d find some way to sabotage or ruin the interior. He loved the feel of it, the creak of the leather, the new car smell, the glide of the gearstick. He loved everything about it, it was his happy place, his sanctuary. He loved the way it would swing around corners if he tapped the accelerator just so, he loved the smoothness of the brakes, he loved the crackle of the old style radio, the window winders, the chrome highlights on the dash. He loved filling it up, the smell of petrol, the click of the pump, the people who admired his car as they walked past. All of it made him happy, but today there was no joy to be had. He wedged the plastic tub containing Ben’s ashes under the passenger seat. He clipped his seatbelt into the clasp and ran his hand along the smooth material of the belt itself. He pushed the key into the ignition, sure and steady, it was accepted with ease. A twist of his wrist and the car made its usual gorgeous guttural sound of coming to life, Nick took a deep breath as he gripped the steering wheel with one hand and moved the gearstick to first, he released the handbrake and revved the engine.

He found the bite point with ease and pulled away. He drove until the buildings turned to trees, the trees turned to fields and the fields turned to sand. He knew exactly where he wanted to dispose of Ben. The place that Ben hated most of all: the beach. He hated the sand, the endless noise of the waves lapping in and out, the predictability of the tide, the smell, the salt, just everything. As the sun started to set, Nick parked the car and took in the beautiful pinks and purples, oranges and reds of the sun on the horizon. Pink fluffy clouds scattered in the sky like melted marshmallows and cotton wool. He smiled to himself with bemusement that anyone could find this place anything but idyllic. Then his smile widened as he remembered the way Ben had described it. A wasteland, a fish toilet, uncomfortable and boring. He pulled the Tupperware from under the seat and gave it a shake for good measure.

“You see that? You are going to see that every day for the rest of eternity,” he spoke quietly as he lifted the corner of the box slightly then quickly closed it again with an irrational fear that part of Ben might escape.

He made his way down the clifftop on to the beach, kicking up the sand as he went. It had been a long time since he had been at the seaside. He made his way towards the water, the tide was out but on its way in. He looked up at the sky, the stars just beginning their nightly twinkle, the moon peeping out from behind a cloud. He smiled to himself at the splendour and beauty as he knelt down and started to dig. He dug a hole deep enough not to be discovered and took great delight in covering the box containing Ben with sand. “You get to stay here, forever in a Tupperware tub, covered in one thing you hate, in a place that you hate, covered in salty water that you hate.” Nick spoke the words with such venom and disdain. “You liked messing with people’s dreams so much? Now you can be a sandman,” Nick chuckled to himself, that seemed fitting. Now, as he watched the waves and the sea foam come and go, threatening to soak his trainers any second, he moved slightly backwards almost as if allowing the tide to creep further up the beach. In the moment, the final moment he had with Ben, he couldn’t imagine a time that he actually liked Ben, and couldn’t understand why he had ever been friends with Ben, but then 700 years can change you, he guessed.

He watched the waves creep closer and closer, slowly made his way back up the cliff steps to his car, and sat in his sanctuary, watching the tide come back into its home. He watched as it covered Ben, seaweed swirling in the murky, dark waters below. And he chuckled to himself. Fuck you Ben, he thought, the last thought he ever wanted to have regarding the box hidden in the sand.

The drive home was far more enjoyable. Nick turned the radio up and wound his windows down. He had always loved driving at night, he loved the way other car lights sparkled through the glass panes, he loved the street lights reflecting in puddles and the splash of the car tyres as he drove through. He loved the chill in the air and the quiet of the road. He remembered a time before the first motorcar, horse and cart were the transport of choice and he loved that too. The rhythmic clatter of horse shoes on the cobbled ground, the gentle rock of the cabin as it moved with a clunk and a sway. The journeys taking forever but no time at all, the smell of the horses, dust and sweat, the sound of their braying when tired or hungry. He loved it all. He had his own two horses, one of which was called Nana, the other Duke. Duke was always a bit grumpy and stubborn and took no shit; if he didn’t want to walk, he simply wouldn’t. Nana, however, had a much calmer, softer demeanour and Nick often found himself confiding in her whilst he groomed and fed her. The stables had been his refuge, a safe haven of calm and peace. It was a simpler time back then, and he relished the idea of simple once more. But as his engine revved and he filled the petrol tank he knew those days were far behind him. He knew there was only one way forward and it was with Charlie Spring.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Night after night he sat and thought of Charlie, he thought about what he might be doing, where he might be and with whom. He thought of the nights he had watched Charlie as a young boy, scribbling away in his notebook eager to learn more and more. He thought of the nights Charlie had stayed awake crying into his sister's arms, then into the pillow once she left, he thought of the times Charlie had cut himself, the simplicity of the act and the damage it had caused. He thought of the nights they had spent together, pleasuring one another, talking, laughing, bonding, loving. He knew now that he loved Charlie.

He loved the way Charlie’s hands ghosted over his shoulders when they were kissing, he loved the way his curls had grown longer, and the way they splayed out on the pillow when Charlie laid back. He loved the ease of them stripping naked in an instant, both seemingly hungry and impatient for the other. He loved the weight of Charlie on his tongue, the saltiness of his cum, the moans and the groans and the muffled noises Charlie would make. He missed the way Charlie pushed himself to endure more pain for a higher satisfaction, ranging from orgasm denial to overstimulation. He loved the way Charlie would bite his bottom lip as he allowed the waves of pleasure to pulse through him. He loved the way Charlie would make him feel, so loved and so cherished when Nick had felt so vulnerable in his arms. Snuggling after Charlie had topped him for the first time was one memory that Nick would hold dear forever, he had felt so cared for, so safe with Charlie. He wasn’t used to having any vulnerability, he worked with the knowledge that nothing could harm him, he could overpower anyone, but with Charlie, this bravado would crumble and shatter, he was complete putty in his hands, pure vulnerability, his heart was on his sleeve and his emotions were raw, yet Charlie made him feel safe and secure and never judged or condemned. He loved the softness of his breath when he slept, he loved the lilt of his giggle when he was truly happy. He loved all those things, he loved them and he missed them. He missed the way Charlie’s chest rose and fell as his body calmed, he missed the way his faint amount of stubble scratched his skin, he missed the way Charlie begged him, pleaded with him and then goaded him. He missed everything, he missed Charlie. He missed the sparkle of his eyes, the pulse in his neck, just everything.

Sarah had told him to give Charlie space, she assured him that all he needed was time, a moment that was his to process what had happened. Nick knew Charlie deserved this, he knew he should give it to him, and he tried so hard, so very hard to give it to him. But the endless amounts of voicemails that had filled his message box, the unlimited amount of texts he had sent, the insta messages, the Facebook DMs – Nick had become obsessed and he had become more desperate with each unanswered communication.

So on the fifth night, he decided to go and sit in his tree and just allow himself the knowledge that Charlie was okay.

It was a wet, cold and stormy night. Nick shrugged on his hoodie and left the warm and dry comfort of Sarah’s house. She looked up at him from her knitting with a sad empathetic smile, he bowed his head to her and turned to leave.

“Leave him be Nick. Remember he just needs time,” she warned as his hand reached for the door handle.

“I know,” he replied with a sad edge to his voice.

He walked into the night, the rain pelting down on him, soaking him within mere minutes. He didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel the cold seep through the fabric of his clothes, onto his skin, into his bones. He didn’t feel the squelch of his shoes as they stepped through the river of rain on the pavement. He didn’t care for the water running from his hair into his eyes. He just had one thought: Charlie.

As he turned corner after familiar corner, the rain and wind swirled around him like a personal tornado. It mirrored the thoughts in his mind. The thoughts that Charlie would hate him, despise him, or even worse – fear him? The branches of Charlie’s tree finally came into view as Nick turned the last corner on his journey, and he saw a figure standing outside, a small lithe person standing under an umbrella. The person seemed to notice him and turned to his direction.

“Where’s Charlie?” Tori spat as Nick approached.

“He’s, he’s not here?” He questioned.

“No dumbass. Otherwise I wouldn’t be asking,” she replied, voice filled with such venom.

“What did you do to him anyway? He’s been so depressed these last few days. I had to take him to A&E two nights ago, the cut was so deep I couldn’t stop the bleeding.” Nick's heart fell through his chest, he knew Charlie would have been struggling, he knew this and yet, he had only just come. Five nights Charlie had been alone and struggling, five nights he needed Nick, five fucking nights.

“When did he leave?” he croaked, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Four hours ago, just before it started raining,” Tori replied coldly as she gripped tighter to her umbrella, the wind swirling even harder. Nick saw her body shudder with cold, he could hear her body shivering yet she stayed still, out on the pavement, lit by the flickering streetlight beside them. Her features dark and wet, her make up had run down her face, the umbrella at this point just for show.

“I think I know where he might be,” Nick said quietly but didn't miss the hope flicker in her eyes and her pulse quickened in response.

“Then go,” she commanded, looking Nick straight in the eye. He nodded once and turned from her. His feet pounded the pavement splash after splash, thud after thud, his breathing was heavy and as soon as he had rounded the corner, he ran at vampire speed. He knew Charlie would be in the music room at school. He knew that Charlie always snuck in when he needed it. There was a window that had a broken lock and Charlie was small enough to fit through. If Charlie had broken the lock then that was his secret to keep. The buildings blurred as Nick's speed increased, his body running at full capacity, the rain flew off his shoulders and his hair blew backwards in the draft. In minutes he reached the school gates. The benches outside glistening in the moonlight, the rain bouncing off the sodden wooden planks. It almost looked beautiful. Nick stood there, calming his body, catching his breath, he didn’t want to frighten Charlie any further. But as he stood, he heard a small whisper of a breath. A tiny heartbeat, ticking slowly. He stood stock still, it wasn’t an animal, the beat was far too slow, the breathing almost non-existent. He stood and concentrated, he inhaled deeply, but all he could smell was rain and wet grass, and…

He could smell Charlie’s aftershave, the spice and floral mixture he couldn’t ignore, he knew it was Charlie. He complemented his own beautiful musk so delicately. But it was watered down by the rain, the wind carrying it off in all directions. The howl of the wind masking the noises from the boy, Nick tried to pinpoint where the noise was coming from, he looked around him frantically, benches, bus stop, trees, gates, everything just seemed normal. But then a small movement, an arm and a curled up hand flopped from behind a tree. Nick ran and in an instant, he saw Charlie. He saw Charlie slumped against the tree, his body limp, pale and so, so cold. His heart beating so slowly, his breathing shallow and light. Nick took his hand, it was frozen, he’d never felt Charlie so cold. It didn’t move within his grasp as if it were stone. Nick saw Charlie's eyes roll behind his eyelids, his mouth opened slightly.

“Nick?”

The sound was barely there, carried off in the wind, dampened by the rain.

“I’m here Char, I’m here.”

“S-so ccccold,” he stuttered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.

“I know darling, I know,” Nick cooed as he wrapped his warm body around the boy. It was then he noticed the puncture marks to Charlie's neck, he noticed the faint pink of rain washed blood on his skin.

“I, I forgive you,” Charlie whispered as he tried to lift his hand to touch Nick's cheek.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Nick replied softly, kissing Charlie’s curls.

“And yet, yyy-you have itttt,” Charlie’s teeth chattered and his body shivered once more.

“It www-was all www-worth itttt to bbb-be with yyy-you.” Nick could see Charlie struggling with his words, fading into the darkness.

“Charlie? Who did this?” he asked, panic in his voice as he looked over the boy. But Charlie remained silent, his breathing impossibly shallower, his pulse even weaker.

Charlie was dying. He was dying in Nick's arms. Nick held him tighter, an internal battle of what to do. Should he let Charlie die? Should he allow Charlie’s life to end prematurely? For him to rest in peace, a peace Nick would never know. He would be cursed to walk the earth for all eternity alone, knowing the one person he had truly loved had died in his arms and he could have saved him. Saved him the way Ben had saved Nick. Would Charlie ever forgive him for that? Could Nick ever forgive himself?

“I-I love y-yyyou,” Charlie spoke, the words so clear and yet so fragile.

The rain seemed to have slowed around them, the wind had calmed as if time itself was stopping. Nick had never created a vampire, he had always seen it as an excruciating curse, a damned existence, but here, now in the dark, glistening rained-on world, with Charlie in his arms, could he do it? He held the boy’s limp body tightly, feeling his heart start to stop.

Charlie was dying. He couldn’t do it.

He held him, he stroked his hair as Charlie took his final breaths, he spoke words of love and gratitude, he spoke of a future together in a different universe, a different time. He spoke of the wonders of death, the comfort and release of the pain Charlie felt. He spoke of the peace and the tranquillity of an endless slumber. As Charlie took his last breath, as his heart beat for its final time, Nick held him impossibly closer and told Charlie he loved him.

Chapter Text

What does it mean to die? When you can live until the end of the world. And what is the end of the world, except a teasing phrase as you wait to die.

As Nick slumped to the floor, the rain now ceased to provide any protection to mask his crying, his tears flowed freely dripping onto his sodden clothes as he continued to hold Charlie’s lifeless body in his arms. Holding him as a precious jewel, fragile and delicate.

“We will meet again, mon amour,” he whispered softly into Charlie's ear, then laid his body gently against the trunk of the tree. Charlie’s arms flopped down to his sides and his head lolled to the left, he looked to be asleep. Finally at peace from the torment of his life. The sun was threatening to peek out from behind the trees, sunrise had crept up on Nick like a thief in the night. He knew he needed to find shelter, any cream he was wearing for protection washed off by the rain. He didn’t want to leave Charlie, but he knew he needed to. He stood and with a final look he backed away and ran into the shadows once more.

When he arrived back at Sarah's, he was inconsolable. She of course had waited for him, of course she had tea brewing, a relaxing lavender smell wafting gently through the house. But Nick crumbled as he took a step over the threshold. He fell to his knees and sobbed. The cry he made, the noise that escaped him was harrowing, it was as if a wild beast had been slain. Sarah didn’t need to ask, she started to hum a lullaby, and watched as Nick's body slumped and relaxed. She was working her magic once more, dulling the pain of someone she loved.

As his body calmed and his tears ran dry, he looked at Sarah, his eyes full of hurt and despair.

“Visha,” she said with such sadness. Nick's eyes turned in an instant, they turned from complete anguish to pure rage. He knew what he needed to do. His breathing rate started to quicken as the hatred and anger coursed through him at the realisation that it was Visha that had killed Charlie.

“Nicky, you need to calm down sweetheart,” Sarah warned. “You can’t do anything rash,” her voice was full of concern. But Nick couldn’t hear her, he was deafened by fury, blinded by hatred. He stood from the crumpled heap he had been in his mother’s arms. He stood to full height, staring at nothing, but completely focused in his mind. Determination etched in his features.

“I’m going to fucking kill him. I’m going to kill them all,” he declared. Sarah’s body slumped as she knew she couldn’t persuade him otherwise. Nick was going to kill the elders, end their reign of authority, their reign of tyranny and their rules.

“Nicky, they will overcome you, they are stronger, faster, elite,” Sarah warned.

“I will kill them,” he said forcefully. “For Charlie,” he added in a much softer tone.

Flashes of memories, memories of the boy, the blue-eyed boy, who played hopscotch with his sister on the pavement, all knobbly knees and gangly arms. The boy who found a love for music and thrived in the rhythm he made, determined to master and perfect his craft. The boy who faded into the background, the boy who took a chance and became friends with Nick. The boy who fell in love, the boy who was playful, sneaky and a bloody menace. The boy who was Nick's life force for so long. The boy who had been killed because Nick had broken a rule. He had fallen in love with a human, he had taken him to the vampire lair and exposed them. And now, it was Charlie’s life that paid the price, but it was Nick who would end it all.

Nick heard a whisper in his mind, Charlie’s voice gently spoke. He could hear him, he hadn’t left. Always to be with Nick, knitted into the fabric of his very being. And Nick would hold onto him so dearly. With one last look at Sarah, he saw the sad knowing look in her eyes, he knelt before her.

“Thank you, Mum. Thank you for everything. I love you and I cherish you. But please continue, save new vampires just like me. Save them and teach them a world of kindness. A world where you don’t have to embrace the monster within, where you can live in peace. Please do that for me.”

“Oh Nicky, you make sure you come back,” she pleaded, but he shook his head as he bowed it low to her.

“I can’t mum. I-I just, I don’t want this anymore, I never wanted this,” he said with such a resigned feeling. Sarah reached up and gently cupped his face, he instinctively leaned into her touch.

“Go my love. And say hi to Charlie for me when you get there.” Nick cocked a sad smile and nodded, he kissed her cheek for the final time, assisted her to stand and without looking back for fear of crumbling, he walked out of Sarah’s house one last time.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

He knew where they’d be. He knew exactly where they’d be. They’d be in the deepest room of the lair, and they’d be drinking someone. As he shrugged off his wet hoodie, and ran his hands through his hair, he composed himself for what was coming. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, he was just one vampire, a mere 700 years old; young really in the grand scheme of things. He knew the elders were ancient, they had seen everything, heard everything, experienced everything. But one thing they took for granted was that they thought they had respect. Nick knew better.

He knew they were despised by most, apart from a few loyal vampires who stayed on their good side for fear of punishment. He knew others would relish in their demise. He wouldn’t do this just for revenge, but for the lifetimes of pain and fear they had cast on hundreds of vampires.

He stood in the dark tunnels under the town he had called home for a moment before he slowly started walking forwards. Forwards towards near certain death.

As he moved towards their chamber his pace slowed, he listened for activity within, he walked carefully, the squelch of his wet trainers almost eradicated. He could smell the blood within the room, it was seeping out through the cracks in the door. It was blood filled with alcohol and drugs. Blood from young women, young men.

He pressed his hand flat against the door and pushed.

“Nicholas Nelson, we were wondering when you’d join us,” Xavier snarled with a sly smirk on his face. Nick took in the sight before him, Xavier had a man laid over his lap, stomach upwards. His sharp claw-like nails drawing patterns in his skin. Visha was more traditional, he had a woman straddled over his lap and he was drinking from her neck.

“Which one of you killed him?” Nick asked. His voice lacked any emotion but continued to hold strength.

“Who?” Xavier asked, his smile dropping from his face as he took in the anger within Nick's eyes.

“Oh, you mean that runt of a human? He was delicious. I can see why you kept him around.” The words came from Visha as he pushed the woman off his lap, allowing her to unceremoniously flop to the floor. Nick's eyes snapped to him. He heard the words before he could process the meaning. His vision was turning red from the edges, pinpointing Visha in his sights.

Visha wiped the woman’s blood from the corner of his mouth and licked his fingers as if they were covered in barbecue sauce, and Nick could feel himself losing control. His body vibrated with rage.

“Now Nicholas, we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid, not over a measly human. Just find another play toy,” Xavier said dismissively, but Nick couldn’t take his eyes off Visha.

“You knew you’d be punished for breaking the rules. And besides, you could have turned him,” Xavier added with a shrug. The words bounced around Nick's mind, ‘You could have turned him’ – those five words would haunt him.

“And condemn him to an existence of misery, pain and slaughter?” Nick spat, turning his head sharply to Xavier.

“I can see what you’re thinking, young man,” Visha said in a patronising tone.

Nick lunged forwards, towards Visha, arms out in front, like a lion to an antelope. Visha stood from his seat in an instant and caught Nick’s body as he crashed into him. He wrapped his arms around Nick's body as they both fell, his fingers puncturing Nick's skin as he dug his nails deep into his back. Nick roared in pain but continued his assault. He bit into Visha's neck, tearing chunks from his flesh. He held him down, using all of his body weight as he straddled Visha beneath him. Visha dragged his nails down Nick's back, creating deep cavernous cuts from his shoulders down his sides. Nick was numb. He drew his arm back and punched Visha repeatedly. Visha withdrew his claws and dug them again deeper into Nick's side. Penetrating his body at a new angle. It wasn’t lost on Nick that Xavier just sat and watched as his fist hit Visha’s face. Slowly the claws within him slipped out of his body, and Visha’s body went limp. But Nick knew better than to believe he’d won. With one hand over Visha’s face, he held his head still, he leant forwards and whispered in his ear, “This is for Charlie fucking Spring.” With his other hand he punched through Visha’s neck grabbing hold of his spine and ripping it from his body.

Nick sat atop of Visha’s lifeless body, panting with exertion, his blood running down his back and Visha’s blood dripping from his hand. He dropped the bones with a clatter onto the floor.

Then he heard a hollow noise, a slow clap from behind him. Xavier had stood up and was slowly walking over to Nick. He placed a hand on Nick's shoulder making him flinch, “Well well young Nicholas, what have you done? Tut tut tut,” Xavier spoke slowly and methodically wagged his finger as if a parent to a child, his other hand remaining on Nick's shoulder, gripping him tightly. Nick twisted his neck, he was finally able to take his eyes from Visha and look at the hand that had dared to touch him. A familiar sense of anger rose within him.

“Get your hand off my shoulder,” he growled, his fangs bared and sharp, dripping with the blood of Visha. Nick rose to his feet in one smooth movement, Xavier took a single step away.

“Nick,” Xavier said cautiously. “I told him not to. I tried but he just kept drinking,” Xavier continued to back away as he spoke. The air in the room was thick with Nick's fury, with the vengeance he sought. As if a robot, Nick turned to face his target, eyes locked on Xavier.

The next few movements went by in a blur, a whoosh of violence, a spurt of blood splashed along the wall. Pain ripped through Nick's body as Xavier fought back slicing his chest, biting into his shoulder, pulling off chunks of flesh. But Nick was in a craze, a rage and hate-filled void, he felt nothing. Nothing but the bones of Xavier crunch under his fists as he hit him repeatedly. By utter brute force and willpower he managed to pin the elder to the wall. He held him there with a hand grasped around his neck, Nick lifted him off the floor holding his hand high above his head.

“You think this is just about Charlie? He was the catalyst, but you have had this coming for centuries. This is for freedom. For the safety of new vampires. For Sarah,” Nick sneered.

“You think you’ll survive this? You think there won’t be retribution?” Xavier croaked as his Adam’s apple threatened to slice through his throat due to the tightness of Nick's grasp.

“I have no intention of surviving,” Nick replied plainly. And with a snap of his wrist Xavier's body went limp, and Nick punched through Xavier’s chest and ripped out his heart. A cold, grey, stone-like object, devoid of any life or love. He stepped away from the body slumped in front of him, and looked around at the carnage of the room. He saw Visha’s body turning to ash, he squashed the heart in his hand and crumbled it to dust letting it fall to the floor. He didn’t know if Charlie would have been proud of him, but he knew the world would now be a better place without these two elders haunting the shadows.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

As Nick made his way back to his Mustang he could feel the wounds to his back and chest starting to heal, muscles and fibres knitting and stitching themselves back together to show no trace of what had happened. He listened to the roar of the engine come to life. The comforting purr as the car sat idle awaiting instruction. There was only one place Nick wanted to go.

The drive wasn’t too long as the night started to fade, making way for another morning. Nick reflected on his long life, his long cursed, tormented life and he knew this was the right decision at the right time, he was ready, he was tired and he needed it to end.

As he drove, he could sense the sun on its ascent in the sky. He could feel its warmth starting a new day, the last day he would see. He felt a sense of calm and peace as he drove.

He parked his car at the top of the cliff, the sun now beginning to peep through the clouds, the storm had passed and the sky was clearing. He knew it would be a beautiful day. The type of day where birds sang cheerfully and everything glistened with fresh rain in bright sunshine. The world always seemed so much more alive and vibrant like that. The sky would be blue and the air would be warm with a gentle cool breeze. It was his favourite type of day. But this day, this one last day would be his favourite of all.

He switched off the car's engine and readied himself. He looked out to sea, watching the waves gently lap at the shore, he watched a dog chase a ball into the water as his owner threw it again and again for him, the dog barking with sheer joy. The joy of life and unconditional love. He smiled as he watched through the safety of the car's glass. The sun slowly rising higher in the sky.

Once the sun had cleared the clouds away, he took off his t-shirt and opened his door. This was it. The last thing he would see. After over 700 years, Nicholas Nelson would watch the happiest of dogs playing on the sand, and he would allow his body to finally float away in the wind. Forever free.

He stepped out of his car with a smile on his face, a smile of contentment, a smile of calm. He stood, leaning forward on the rickety wooden fence. The sky a delightful mix of blues merging to pinks making a subtle purple, Nick hadn’t seen a sunrise in nearly a millennia but this one. This one he was witnessing, took his breath away. The clouds, soft puffs of white, a minimal breeze to move them on to pastures new. His attention was shifted as he heard the happy bark of the brown and white dog running across the sand, jumping and barking and lolling its tongue to one side. He watched the owner get covered in sand and water without a care in the world. He watched as he bent to pick up the sandy ball for the dog who was bouncing with excitement at his feet. He couldn’t help but think this morning was pure perfection. He felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. It tingled a little, but nothing too uncomfortable. As the colours of the morning enveloped him, they smoothed over the cracks of his life, seeped into his very being. He didn’t quite know what to expect, but he was excited at the potential to see Charlie once more, hold him again and finally spend eternity together. He stood and watched the man and the dog enjoying the simplicity of life, the ball bouncing between them, linking them together in joy. Under the sun's rays, Nick Nelson slowly turned to ash, his body carried by the breeze, as light as a feather. Finally happy, forever to be free.

Forever at peace.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ————————

Chapter Text

The world seemed to blur as though rain running down a watercolour painting. The fabric started to crinkle at the edges. Blues running into yellows, an ombré effect of sunrise. The dog’s barking began to fuzz, melt into the background. The background of what though? Nick's body continued to tingle as it floated into ever smaller pieces, the world that he was once tethered to, drifted and warped away, the dog barking happily; becoming muffled and silenced. The sea salted air filled his senses as he took a deep breath, the final part of him drifting off into the ether. Gripping onto that splintered rickety fence, he took extra notice of the wood grain, the roughness of the unsanded, untreated, unloved wood that had weathered many a storm. But it slipped through his fingers, just as everything else. The silence was deafening, he began to yearn for the bark of that happy dog.

Nick closed his eyes, pleading with himself to hear the dog just one more time. When he finally opened them again, the bark returned. It was different, it sounded hollow, almost empty as it echoed around him. The colours of the world had changed. No longer the beautiful pinks and blues of sunrise, now it was as though the world had turned into the negative version, an alternate universe, if you will. Shadows turned to light, brightness turned to dark, and yet the world remained beautiful, even more so if that was even possible. As Nick stood there, his hand remained on that rickety wooden fence, it somehow felt more fragile, but strangely it felt stronger at the same time, as though it were indestructible, everlasting; just one more storm in the wind. He stood as he had before, the sun's rays now not affecting him, his skin no longer tingling, his endless hunger no longer eating him from the inside, his thoughts no longer consumed by blood. For once his mind had found clarity, no longer flooded with the ideas to kill, torture or drink. No longer tormented with the endless want for flesh and pain. He felt light, floaty and free.

“It’s you.”

The voice broke his reverie, his peace. The voice quietly drifted towards him from beside his car. He had heard it only once before, but he remembered it. He remembered the slight wisp of breath, he remembered the tone, the lilt, and tiny amount of roughness. It was a little sad, despondent and yet somehow kind. He turned his head towards the voice but saw nothing. He saw his car, he saw the world that had fallen away. He saw the breeze rustling the nearby trees and he saw the seagulls caught in an updraft of air.

“Nick?”

The voice spoke again, this time from right beside him.

“Tara?” He asked, his voice just above a whisper. She gave him a warm, reassuring smile. One he knew he didn’t deserve.

After a few moments just standing together, watching the dog run around on the beach below them, she replied, “Hi Nick.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me. I know I don’t deserve it,” he muttered, not taking his eyes from the beach below. To his surprise, he felt a hand, a comforting weight on his shoulder, a thumb moving in little soothing circles.

“That wasn’t you Nick,” she replied softly. Nick could hear the emotion lacing her words, the empathy and understanding; the forgiveness. She seemed to understand his confusion.“Nick, that wasn’t the right time for me. Being Black in that community, but being Black and a lesbian in the community, I couldn’t be my true authentic self, I wasn’t free, I was as imprisoned just as you were by Ben.”

Ben.

The name sent a shiver down Nick's spine. If he was meeting Tara, would he be able to meet Ben? Could Ben find him and haunt him once more?

“He’s not here,” Tara comforted, once again reading the fear in Nick's eye. “He’s not here, only people who have unfinished business are here,” she added.

“Unfinished…” Nick looked off into the distance, over the waves, the water sloshing in and out in its relentless pattern, the ebb and flow following the moon's instruction. Nick could see it now, he could see it all so clearly. Everything was linked, cause and effect, action and reaction, life and death. Of course Ben wouldn’t be here, he never left anything unfinished because he simply didn’t care about anything. No cause and effect, no give and take, just Ben: his wants, his desires, his needs. And he’d take whatever he needed from anyone he came across to satisfy himself.

“I’m sorry that you’re here,” he said quietly, a tear falling gently down his cheek. Tara gave him a small sad smile, but it was a comfort.

“I’m only here for you, I came back for you.”

“You, you came back?” He asked, his gaze broken from the waves and he focused on Tara’s eyes. They sparkled with a little mirth as the corners of her smile ticked up slightly.

“Are you happy?” He asked.

Tara huffed a little giggle, “Yeah,” she replied. “I’m really happy Nick. I had to wait here a little while, but eventually they came, they found me and we both moved on.”

“They?”

“Darcy, my person,” Tara said, as her smile grew even wider. It was an honest and true smile, it lit a tiny fire in Nick's heart.

“We couldn’t be together before, but when they finally passed, well, we can be together now.”

“But you come back?”

“I wanted to be the one to explain, to show you, help and guide you.”

“How do I know what my unfinished business is?”

Tara started to giggle once more, she truly was beautiful when she laughed so honestly and carefree. Her face lit up with a sort of happiness Nick had long forgotten could even exist.

Happiness.

He had been happy. He had found happiness. Was that what he needed, he needed to find what made him happy? He looked to the beach, the man, still playing with his dog, the dog bounding back and forth. Both just existing and enjoying.

The man was tall and slender and had a grace about him that seemed a little familiar. Nick watched his movements as the man crouched down, knees tucked into his chest to pet the dog. The dog laid on the sand, rolled over. Then he heard it, as the sound of the waves disappeared from his senses, the dog silenced by the joy of a belly rub, he heard the man say, “You are so adorable.” The words weren’t familiar, but the tone, the richness of the voice was known to him.

It was a voice he knew he would never forget, but it was a voice he didn’t think he would ever deserve to hear again.

“Is that?” Nick croaked as he looked at the scene before him, his eyes instantly filled with tears. Tears of hope, of love, of wonder.

“It’s him,” Tara confirmed.

“Why is he here?”

“Because he’s waiting for you,” Tara said simply though her words were filled with empathy and compassion.

“H-he’s..”

“Mmhmm,” Tara confirmed without needing Nick to finish his question. Nick took a deep shuddery breath.

“Go to him,” Tara said softly. Nick shook his head, tears falling freely down his cheeks.

“I can’t, he deserves so much more than me.”

“Oh, Nick, he loves you.” Nick turned his head to look at Tara, her vision blurred through his tears. Tara cupped his cheek gently. “You're his unfinished business,” she said with kindness. She wiped her thumbs over his cheeks to move the tear tracks. “Now, you go to him, and you love him forever,” she said, holding Nick's face in her hands, not breaking eye contact.

Forever? Nick liked the sound of that. He sucked in his bottom lip to stop it quivering and slowly nodded with another shuddery breath. Tara gently removed her hands from his cheeks, and took a step backwards.

As she stepped further away, she began to flicker as though a faulty hologram.

“Tara?” Nick asked quickly in panic.

“It’s okay Nick, it’s time for me to leave,” she replied with surety and confidence.

“But, but I need you!” he exclaimed, trying to reach for her hand, but his fingers passed straight through her. She smiled at him.

“I’m at peace Nick, I’m at peace,” she reassured as she began to fade, her smile never wavering. Just as she had almost fully disappeared he saw another figure swing an arm around her shoulder. A kiss to her cheek, he could only assume it was Darcy by the way Tara beamed. She really was happy. He stood and watched until Tara had completely disappeared, then his attention was back to the man on the beach. The man was now laying on his back on the sand, his dog laying next to him; he had made an angel mark in the sand. He was smiling.

Could he really see him again? Did he deserve that? Nick stood watching the man below idly stroking the dog that lay next to him, the slow motion of his hand. He could almost feel the soft fur beneath his own fingers, the warmth of the dog's body, the movement of panting, he wiggled his fingers as if to lace them through the fur. They looked peaceful, content. But the tide was relentless, the noise of the waves were back in Nick's ears, he could see the sea foam moving closer and closer to the man and his dog. The tide was the ruler of time, it was making its descent back to the beach, unwavering and unforgiving. Would the man notice? Would he move in time before he was consumed?

With one last look, Nick took a step away from the rickety fence that had grounded him so consistently, the one permanent in this new world, the only thing that had made any sense. The wood grain, the hardness of the planks beneath his fingers. The grits of sand that had worked their way into the indents, the crookedness that had evolved over time. He took a step back and looked around for a way down. He saw some steps carved into the cliff edge and he started to run.

The tide was relentless, a ticking clock, an hourglass of time was free falling away from him, he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t slow it, he couldn’t pause it. He couldn’t run as a vampire, his pace was slow and laboured, but he reached the steps within minutes. They were crooked and steep and daunting. He held onto the handrail and refocused his mind. He could do this, he needed to do this. He said he would always be there, and with that thought, the thought of the small frightened boy in the car all those years ago, he took his first step down the stairs. Step after step after step, the stairs seemed endless, the last trial of determination. He continued, on and on, down and down, until the hard stone suddenly turned to soft sand beneath his boots. He’d made it, he’d reached the beach. The man was still laying on his back, his dog, his trusty dog remained by his side. The tide, a mere metre away from them.

He stepped again on to the soft sand, his foot sinking, sand covering his boot. Step after step felt difficult, like wading through quicksand, it was heavy and he was falling deeper and deeper. Until the dog looked up and saw him. It barked excitedly as it sprang to its feet, jumping over the man again and again.

“Ugh! Nellie you’re getting sand all over me!” the man exclaimed as he sat up.

Nick's breath caught in his throat, completely overcome with emotion, the man in front of him was Charlie. His Charlie. But he was a little older, time must move differently here - he looked the same age as Nick. His body more filled, his features more mature. His smile; exactly the same, flanked by the same deep dimples. Nick's heart started racing, the thrum of excitement in his chest, seeing the man before him scramble to his feet and stand up straight, the dog bounding between them paled into insignificance. The two men stood facing each other, Nick's chest rising and falling, Charlie’s chest rising and falling in anticipation. Nick took a step forward, a step towards what he hoped would be his forever, his new eternity.

Charlie looked calm, a little coy perhaps, but his smile; permanent and warm. His voice was soft, welcoming, loving almost. A single word which captured all of Nick's hopes and dreams - “Hi.”