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The warm, rich blood dripping down his throat felt way too good.
Owen tightened his grip on the doctor's jaw, making sure he wouldn't squirm. He was a nice man, not only willing to hear him out, but also to feed him... His constant talk about curing Owen was annoying, sure. But he more than made up for it by letting the vampire take just a little bite. He sipped greedily on the hot blood, not letting even a drop escape from his mouth. He could feel Legs' heartbeat, as his heart thumped with fear. Adrenaline tasted simply divine, it brought back the memories of what happened to Oakhurst... The vampire let out a quiet growl when the doctor flinched.
"Owen...?" Legs asked quietly.
He was being greedy, sure. He had already taken more than he should've. Legs only agreed for a little, non-turning and non-lethal bite. He foolishly believed that Owen was starving... Not that day. Since morning, the lumberjack felt a strange sense of pressure building up in his chest. Hunting and feeding on animal blood and flesh helped; briefly, but it did. He was far from starving. But he was still going to take what he felt was rightfully his. After all, not turning the doctor was an act of mercy... And his mercy for humans was slowly wearing thin.
"Owen, I think that's enough." Legs' voice was more stern, but also weaker. But he wasn't fighting back... His 'do no harm' ideology was going to be the death of him, in more ways than one... When he attempted to move his neck away from Owen's fangs, the vampire let out a warning hiss.
"Don't move." He growled, tightening his grip.
His claws dug into the doctor's throat - not deep enough to pierce his trachea. How easy would it be to just... Take him? Go against his promise to spare Legs, and claim him as his meal? In his mind, Owen already pictured himself draining Legs of the last of his blood. Then, he would rip out his stupid lab coat, bite straight into his vital organs, rip them out, have a little feast... He hasn't gorged himself on a human for two hundred years, he missed the feeling so, so badly...
Eventually, Owen pulled away, licking the last droplets of blood off his lips. A small smile appeared on his face when he looked down at Legs. The doctor leaned against a tree, struggling to keep himself upright. He was dangerously close to passing out... If he let the vampire feed on him for barely a few seconds longer, he would be a goner. He was lucky that Owen was feeling somewhat merciful that day, even after how much the other humans pissed him off... The lumberjack straightened his back, watching the doctor with a dangerous shine in his eyes. His whole body was shaking with some sort of powerful, primal itch.
"Delicious..." He hissed, wiping his mouth and licking off the last of the blood. "Now, go. I let you go today. I can't promise this will happen the next time."
Legs nodded. Even if his vision was getting blurry, and he was on the verge of collapse, he agreed to do this. If that would bring Owen to trust him in the future...
"I was never here," He confirmed, before shakily walking off towards Oakhurst.
Owen took a deep breath, putting a hand on his stomach. That felt good- No, that felt better than good. That felt incredible. He felt alive, as ironic as that was for someone in his situation. The comfortable fullness put his mind at ease. No wonder Scott loved it so much... Maybe Owen should take inspiration from him. Have no regard for anything but keeping himself fed and powerful. He deserved it after all he's been through, right?
And then, the itch returned.
Lewis' gift of vampirism was, no doubt, the best thing that ever happened to Owen. The immense power, the prolonged lifespan and, above all, healing his debilitating illness... Or, that's what it was supposed to do. The bad news was - and Owen only found out about it after waking up from his centuries long slumber - that the damage that the sickness had done to his body was here to stay. He kept his bandages on, to hide the scarred, marbled skin from getting burned by the sun. His limping was no longer as bad, but it still affected him after a whole day of hunting. And above all, the uncomfortable itching, and the pulsating pain that his scars awoke in his arms. Back when Owen was still a human, there were days when he would lose feeling in one of his arms - sometimes both. Lewis' gift was supposed to heal that. Why did it come back, then...?
Owen shook his head and turned around, heading deeper into the forest. No, Lewis did nothing wrong. He risked so much and lost everything to heal Owen, to help him... If any sort of damage remained, that had to have been Owen's fault. Maybe if he consumed more blood, grew in power more, then eventually the symptoms would finally be gone... He would be healed for good.
There was a little herd of wild sheep, walking along the side of the hill. In a matter of seconds, the largest of them was attacked by the vampire that lunged out from the bushes. Owen pinned the animal to the ground, his fangs immediately piercing through the animal's skull. That was not the best spot to sip on blood, true, but the brain was so much more nutritious... Just moments later, he found himself wildly ripping the animal to pieces, feasting on its flesh and insides. Its terrified cries died down quickly. The lumberjack huffed, stuffing the delicious, fresh meat down his throat. His stomach was beginning to hurt. Well, he would have to take that. If that was the price of his salvation, he was happily going to pay it.
Soon, the wild was nothing more but a memory, and a bunch of bones and scraps of wool littering the area. Owen was breathing heavily, blood dripping down his chin and on his shawl. But the itching in his body was not gone... That was simply not enough. He let out a loud, animalistic growl, and pulled his claws through his hair.
"I need more..." He grumbled, before something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
It's hard to notice changes in one's appearance when looking in the mirror. So only then Owen noticed a change in how he looked. His long, tangled, dark brown curls went completely white, and felt even more silky and soft. When did that happen? Was it because he gorged himself on Legs? Or before that? He pulled on his ponytail, a maniacal smile slowly lighting up his face. That seemed familiar... Lewis also looked like that. Only once, however - the day when he was supposed to turn Owen. The lumberjack never questioned why that happened, just wrote it off as a vampire thing. And he was right... He saw the mayor of Oakhurst at his peak, even without realizing that. No wonder he looked so godly, so angelic... A quiet whimper slipped Owen's lips.
Lewis would be proud of him.
Right...?
The vampire took one last bite of the sheep's pancreas. Delicious... The amounts of blood he just ingested made him feel a bit woozy, a bit heavy. Still, he pulled himself off the ground, then lunged after the rest of the herd.
Another sheep fell down to his claws, and soon was nothing more than some scraps littering the forest.
And then, the next one fell victim to Owen's hunger.
And then another one. It didn't go down as easily, but it was also not enough to quell the pain.
And another one.
And another.
And another.
The vampire sat in the middle of the forest, his head spinning from the gluttony he just allowed himself to indulge in. His whole body felt like a rock, too heavy to lift from the ground. Blood came up to his throat, threatening him with very uncomfortable retching. Throwing up blood sounded like a horrible experience... Owen fell on his back and let out a heavy sigh. That felt... Did it feel good? He felt a bit disgusted with himself, that's for sure. Since waking up, he's only been feeding on small animals, quelling his hunger once a day, once every two days. The only time he really had a chance to properly feed was when Pyro fell victim to the vampires - and even then, he let Scott take the bigger share. But the pressure in his chest was not gone, only reinforced by the pressure that built up in his stomach.
And the itching also hasn't disappeared.
"I don't get it, what did I do wrong?!" The vampire let out a frustrated yell. His whole body felt horrible - shaky, heavy, weak... But he was supposed to feel powerful. Not... Not like this. And why wasn't he healed then? Why did his arms still feel so numb, and like he was about to lose his feeling at any moment? He turned to his side, looking down on his trembling arms with frustration. "Why am I not fine yet?! I did what I had to do!"
His teeth dug deep into his own forearm. A sudden surge of agonizing pain shook his whole body, almost making him spit out. But he didn't. He put more pressure on the bite. An uncomfortable scratching sound etched at his skull, when his fangs scraped against his bone. Only that made him pull his fangs out.
But that also gave him an idea.
Still a bit dizzy from his overindulgence, Owen pulled out the edge of his bandage, then began pulling on it to unwrap it. A disgusting smell of rotten blood and pus immediately hit him, putting him even closer to throwing up. Could the others not smell him? Eventually, the bandages from both arms fell to the ground. Even after he transformed, he never took them off before. It was, frankly, really gross, even for what he had to go through in his life... His skin was calloused, tinted an unhealthy shade of greenish grey. Large, open wounds dried over time and turned into dark blemishes that still caused pain when he touched them too much. His fingers were malformed, not enough to render them unusable, but enough to make them harder to actually use. Why didn't all of it heal through the transformation? Was the vampiric ability to heal not enough for the damage that he carried?
Maybe he just needed to start the healing process manually.
Owen took a deep breath, to brace himself for what he was about to do. As much as he hoped Lewis was somewhere out there, watching him in the afterlife, he really needed him to avert his eyes for a moment.
And then, he took the first bite.
The itchy, damaged skin immediately burned in pain, his brain sending signals to him to stop whatever the hell he wanted to do. But he already made up his mind. He pulled on the damaged tissue, the uncomfortable sound of ripping skin reaching his ears. Once more, blood came up to his throat, and he barely stopped himself from throwing up. Not yet, not yet... Owen shut his eyes tight, letting out a painful groan. And then, the first chunk of his own meat came off, leaving a big, gaping wound. The smell of rotting meat - his own rotting meat - hit him. This time, he couldn't hold back. He turned to the side, the retched blood and tissue painting the grass scarlet.
With his eyes hazy from pain, he looked down at what he managed to do. A serious chunk of his sickly skin was missing, exposing his muscle and even bone. At least he wasn't bleeding, he couldn't as a vampire... He could do without the smell, though.
But that reinforced the thought that his idea was good. If he ripped out his own damaged skin, and let his vampiric traits heal it over... It would return good as new, right? True, it would probably take quite a while to fully heal over... But it had to work. If it didn't... Well, that would mean even the supernatural couldn't save Owen from his fate.
After recollecting himself, the vampire took one more bite. That one went a lot easier. He was getting used to the pain. That, or his nervous system decided he was not going to deal with this bullshit.
"See, Lewis?!" Owen yelled into the ether, really hoping the words would reach no one but his long lost friend. He swallowed the chunk of flesh, wincing at the bitter taste. Would that even count as consuming meat to strengthen himself? Well, only time will tell... "I can do this! I can be strong! I will-" He paused to take another bite, this time from the inside of his palm "I will be just like you! Healthy, and powerful, and..." Another wave of sickness hit him. He wasn't quite sure whether that was from overeating, the disgusting taste of his rotting meat, or both. "I will be... Like you... I promise..."
One of his hands was fully chewed through at this point. His illness was gone, at least visually. The itching turned into a tingling feeling, as if water dripped upon his exposed nerves. Arguably, he was feeling even worse than before he started. But he was already committed, he couldn't quit halfway, right?
Owen glanced at his other hand. It was horribly shaking, as if it knew what was going to happen in a moment. And then, he plunged his teeth deep, deep into his flesh once more.
"I hope you're proud of me, Lewis..." Owen chuckled to himself as he stumbled through the forest. There was one spot he wanted to visit before returning to the castle that was being rebuilt. He was slouching, dragging his arms, shuffling his feet. His whole body felt numb with pain, the uncomfortable fullness in his stomach had not vanished despite how many times he threw up. "I'm just finishing what you started... And, maybe, it can... It can make up for what happened to you... Since I couldn't stop it... The people of Oakhurst already paid their price, but... But so should I..."
Something moved in his peripheral vision. Was he being watched? Followed? Stalked? By who? A fellow vampire, or a bloodthirsty human? Owen let out an animalistic growl, hoping it would keep the intruder at bay. He was in no shape to fight at the moment, with the feeling in his arms almost completely gone. He wasn't even sure whether he was still holding his bandages - the perception in his fingers was completely gone at this moment.
"Who's here?" The lumberjack growled. Something moved again, this time to his side. He turned around, opening his fangs and ready to use them. "Show yourself!"
But nothing appeared. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or was there really someone here, watching him? Of course, they wouldn't just come out from his taunting... So it had to be a human. A vampire would probably notice his state and approach him, aiming to help. Or would they? Could Owen trust them after all, with what he's been through? There was only one person in the world he could trust. But that person was long gone. He was on his own, only able to count on himself. He bared his teeth, hoping to scare off anyone who dared to approach him in such a vulnerable moment.
"Come out and fight me! I'm not scared of you!" He yelled. "I will destroy you, and feast upon your insides, you hear?!"
Something moved again. This time, there was a lot more. They were all around him. Owen shivered, cold chills gripping his back.
"Owen... Owen, darling..."
His face went completely blank. He knew that voice... No, no, it couldn't be it..."
"Owen, dearest... Why did you leave me to die? Was my gift not enough for you?"
"Lewis..." The lumberjack let out a muffled half-whimper, half-moan. No, it wasn't real. It was all happening in his head... Or was it...? "Lewis, I'm sorry, I- I couldn't- I didn't- I thought we had-"
"You wasted my gift, Owen." A bright, ethereal figure emerged from between the trees. Owen flinched back like a startled animal. The details were fuzzy, as if he wasn't really there... But he felt so real. Owen wanted him to be real... Even if all of his animosity, all of his disgust with him was true. He would take that any day, over the heart wrenching loneliness the people of Oakhurst doomed him to. "You wasted my life. Was that not enough for you...? Maybe that's why you're still sick. You never deserved healing in the first place."
The taste of rotting blood filled Owen's mouth. Maybe this Lewis wasn't real... But what he said was true, and Owen believed him right away. He pulled his damaged arms closer to himself, before running off, as far away from the vision as he could. His eyes filled with tears - he wanted to gouge them out. His lungs hurt from strained breathing, he was on the verge of falling unconscious and collapsing. The voice of Lewis boomed inside of his skull. He was right. Everything that happened to him, to them, was his fault.
Maybe there was a way he could still fix it, though...
Eventually, Owen ran straight into a ruined tower, standing atop the hill. The heavy, dusty air filled his lungs, making him cough. He knew this place all too well... Lewis took him there a few times, back when he was alive. He learned a lot there - about vampires, about Lewis, even about himself. He would never forget the nights they spent together there... Which is why he took refuge here after the massacre, and this is where he spent two hundred years sleeping. All this time, he hoped he just wouldn't wake up...
While still struggling to calm down, Owen was reminded of something that was left here an age ago. With his strength almost completely depleted, he dragged himself upstairs. Lewis left some of his clothes once upon a time... It was something more befitting a vampire, rather than the old commoner's rags that Owen still wore. With his hands numb and shaking, he reached towards the shirt and pants his friend left behind. Maybe this way, he could always carry a piece of him with himself... Maybe even become him, one day. Maybe that would make up for all of his faults.
Maybe.
"Oh, look at you! This is so much better!" Scott grinned as soon as Owen transformed into a human, after arriving at the castle.
Lewis was a bit taller than Owen, so his clothes ended up being a little too big for the lumberjack. However, with the amounts of blood he gorged on that day, he managed to just fill them out. A well-fitted dark red shirt with golden buttons, and black, slightly loose pants. He let down some of his now bright white hair, forming it in a way that he remembered Lewis having it. He smiled at the compliment.
"Well, I needed to celebrate reaching my final form, so I... Borrowed some clothes from an old friend."
His mind blanked for a second. Maybe that was a stretch, but he could almost swear he didn't sound like himself. He sounded like... Lewis. Well, his voice didn't sound like Lewis - his was so much softer, like the clearest glass bell - but his accent and tone... He shivered at the realization.
"You do look mighty fine in them..." The elder vampire smirked, licking his lips in a suggestive manner. "I will have to take a closer look later... And, uh, in the meantime, want to help me finish the roof to this place? So that we don't, you know, burn in the sun all the time..."
"Right, on it."
Owen approached the chest with their supplies and put his hands on it to put it open. Suddenly, a surge of pain shook his whole body. Before he changed into Lewis' old clothes, he took his bandages and wrapped them tightly around his damaged arms. Maybe if he didn't leave the regrowing skin much space, it would grow back healthy... But now, it burned worse than if he got splashed with holy water. And the uncomfortable pressure in his stomach was not gone yet (he didn't make it better by devouring a whole cow on his way back). The urge to puke was still there, in the back of his head. But it was fine, right? He was going to heal, and he would be fine. He would continue to carry Lewis' legacy. That's the least that he owed him. Maybe one day, he would no longer be this sickly, weak lumberjack that caused the entire town of Oakhurst to vanish overnight. Maybe, just maybe, one day... He would be fine.
But not that day, that's for sure.