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Fever Dream

Summary:

Damien is very, very sick.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Damien muttered a “Thanks” to Benjamin as the butler set a mug of coffee down next to him, Mark smirking from across the table.

 

“Have a little too much to drink last night, Dames?”

 

He scowls at his best friend.

 

“It’s entirely your fault and you know it.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Damie.” Mark’s voice is incredibly amused. Damien scowls at him again and sips at his coffee. Celine is grinning smugly.

 

“I hate you all.”

 

“You love us, petit frère.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Not even me, love?” William’s tone was mock offended.

 

“My hangover is just as much your fault as it is Mark’s. I absolutly do not love you.”

 

“We’re hungover too, you know!” Mark sounds offended.

 

“I hate you anyway.”

 

“We love you too.” William leans over and presses a soft kiss to Damien’s cheek, melting his scowl for a moment.

 

“...Thank you, cher.”

 

William smiles sunnily. “Of course, dear.”

 

Damien takes another sip of his coffee, glancing up briefly- only to let out a choked, horrified gasp as he catches a glimpse of Celine, her eyes black and bleeding ink.

 

“Dames? What’s wrong, are you alright?” Concern colours Mark’s voice.

 

“You- Celine -” Damien can barely get out any words, staring with shocked horror at his sister.

 

“Damien?” William puts a worried hand on Damien’s shoulder as Celine speaks. “Damien, what is it?” She starts to stand. Damien finally moves, scrambling up and away from the table, terrified.

“Stay the fuck away!”

 

Celine stops, her expression growing more and more worried as her eyes continue to drip black.

 

“Petit frère, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

 

“Dames, what’s happening?”

 

“Don’t you see her eyes !?” Damien’s voice is hysterical. Mark, Celine, and William all exchange extremely concerned looks.

 

“Damie, love, there’s nothing wrong with her eyes.” William’s voice is as gentle as he can make it. God knows he doesn’t want to upset Damien any more than he already is.

 

“Yes there is! They’re black and bleeding ink like she’s- she’s some sort of demon !” Damien is starting to tremble, terrified. Everyone’s concern grows.

 

“Dames, Cel’s eyes are perfectly normal, I promise .”

 

“They aren’t ! Why can’t you-” Damien’s voice is cut off, his horror growing as Mark’s eyes turn black too, ink starting to drip down his face. Damien looks at Will desperately. “Cher, please, we have to go, I don’t know what’s happening but we have to go .”

 

“Damien, please , nothing is happening!” Will reaches out and presses a hand to Damien’s forehead, understanding crossing his face. “Oh, love . You have a fever, Damie, you’re sick. You’re seeing things that aren’t real.”

 

“I’m not fucking hallucinating!” He’s shouting, terrified , desperate for William to understand, to believe him. William holds his hands out, pleading.

 

“Darling, please, you have to believe me, you are !”

 

“Why are you lying !? Are you- you’re- you’re one of them too, aren’t you!? Your eyes are going to change too!” As Damien speaks, Will’s eyes turn black and start to drip. “I knew it! What are you all!? What have you done with my family!?”

 

“Petit frère, it’s us , I swear. You’re just sick , Damien!”

 

“Shut up!” Damien grabs the butter knife from the table, backing away while pointing it at all of them. “Shut up , go away , give them back !”

 

Mark and William freeze in place at the sight of the weapon but Celine approaches Damien determinedly. She wasn’t going to just watch her little brother suffer like this.

“Petit frère, s'il te plait.” Her voice is soft, and calming. “Lâche le couteau, Damien. Personne ne va te faire de mal. Nous allons bien ici, d'accord? Nous sommes tous ici et tout va bien. Il n'y a pas de démons. Je le jure.”

 

“Tu ment.” Damien’s voice is shaky, as is his grip on the knife. “Tu ment ! Je peux voir tes putains d'yeux! Reste loin !” His voice raises in pitch and volume as he speaks, terror mounting. Celine keeps approaching him anyway. 

 

“Il n'y a rien de mal à mes yeux, Damie. Je promets. Vous êtes malade . C’est tout ça, petit frère, je le promets. Juste-” Celine took another step forward, making the panic spike more in Damien’s chest. He lashed out instinctively, lunging forward and stabbing Celine in the shoulder. 

 

She screams with pain as Damien darts backward. Blood runs down their hands- hers, clutching her shoulder, and his, clutching the knife. Mark and Will rush to her side, Mark trying his best to stem the bleeding as William looks at Damien with shock and horror.

 

“I said stay away .” Damien’s voice is trembling but strong, now that he knows he can fight back. Her blood is staining his hands. It looks like he’s spilled ink all over himself. For a beat, the only motion is Mark’s frantic attempts to stop Celine’s bleeding. Then-

 

Will lunges forward suddenly, snatching at the knife in Damien’s hand. He stumbles backward and drops it out of surprise, dropping to his knees in a scramble to get it back- but it's too late, and Will has grabbed Damien's arms, keeping him from getting to the knife.

 

"Let me go !"

 

"Damien, please . You're not in your right mind! You stabbed Celine!”

 

“Let me go !”

 

William didn’t listen, tightening his grip on Damien and pinning his arms behind his back as Damien starts to sob , begging for Will to let him go, let him go . Mark and Celine approach the pair hesitantly, Celine still clutching her shoulder. Will gives them a look, and Mark moves to grab onto Damien’s shoulder. He starts to fight harder, almost yanking his arm out of Will’s grip before Will and Mark solidify their grips on him.

 

“We should take him upstairs. Put him to bed until we can call the doctor.” Celine’s voice was a little shaky, but still firm.

 

I’m not sick! ” Damien breaks down into illegible sobs again as Mark and Will start to drag Damien out of the room and up the stairs, him fighting all the way. He and Celine have another rapid, half-hysterical exchange in French as the party slowly makes its way down the hall and up the stairs. It feels like the hallway lasts forever, but eventually they make it to the bedroom. They manhandle him into laying onto the bed as he continues to thrash and struggle.

 

“Celine- there’s some rope in the corner- grab it, please?”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Because we can’t stand here holding him for the hour it’s going to take for the doctor to get here. Please , Cel.”

 

She hurries over to the corner and grabs the rope and trades places with Will, struggling a little to hold Damien as Will rapidly ties Damien’s hands together and to the headboard. Damien yanks hard , but Will’s knot holds fast, and Celine and Mark finally let go. Tears are streaming down his face and he’s breathing hard with the effort of both struggling against the rope and crying. 

 

“I can’t - We can’t just let him do this, we have to do something. He’s going to hurt himself.” Mark’s voice is a tad desperate, and he’s looking away from Damien. Unable to stomach the sight.

 

“He has some morphine- I can run and get it. Will you two be alright here with him?” William glances worriedly at Mark and Celine. Celine offers him a weak smile.

 

“We’ll be alright. Just- hurry. Please.”

 

William doesn’t respond, instead turning and practically running out of the room. Celine turns back to Damien, crouching by his side.

 

“Damien, s’il vous plait, c’est d’accord, tu es malade.”

 

“Je ne suis pas malade! Je sais ce que tu es!  Lâchez-moi!”

 

”Tu es délirant! Je suis Celine! Je ne suis pas l’esprit!” Her voice is desperate, pleading.

 

“Meurtrier!”

 

“Damien, s'il te plaît .”

 

“Laisse-moi partir !”

 

Finally, William returned, carrying a small brown case and an anxious expression.

 

“You’re both going to have to hold him still, or I’ll just stab him and myself, which is the last thing we need.”

 

Mark is a tad hesitant, but he goes to Celine’s side anyway, and together they hold Damien’s arm still. He’s tiring, his struggles not nearly as strong as they were before. Will’s hands are steady despite his nerves as he takes the needle and bottle out of the pouch, carefully filling it to one above the level he’s seen Damien take before. Please, God, let this knock him out.

 

“Laissez-moi partir, s'il vous plaît, laissez-moi partir, laissez-moi tranquille , rendez-les-moi, s'il vous plaît !” Damien is hysterical and desperate, voice breaking several times as he sobs his way through the sentence.

 

“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart. I promise.” William’s voice betrays his nerves as he too kneels by Damien’s side. He rolls up Damien’s sleeve and locates a vein as quickly as possible. Then, with a shaky exhale, he injects the morphine into Damien. It’s not an instantaneous effect, but within 15 minutes Damien begins to stop fighting. Within another 5, he’s asleep. All three of them step back from him- though Will takes a moment to gently brush the hair from his face. He leaves the needle and case on the table, and turns to face Mark and Celine.

 

“Mark, can you call the doctor? I’ll patch Celine up a little.”

 

“I’ll call.” He glances worriedly at Damien. “God I hope he’ll be alright.”

“He will be.” Celine’s voice is firm. “He’s going to be alright.”

 

With one last concerned glance at her brother, Celine leaves the room, followed closely by Mark and William. They close the door behind them.

Notes:

French Translations!

"Petit frère, s'il te plait. Lâche le couteau, Damien. Personne ne va te faire de mal. Nous allons bien ici, d'accord? Nous sommes tous ici et tout va bien. Il n'y a pas de démons. Je le jure." -> Little brother, please. Drop the knife, Damien. No one is going to hurt you. We're all here, okay? We are all here and everything is fine. There are no demons. I swear.

"Tu ment. Tu ment! Je peux voir tes putains d'yeux! Reste loin!" - > You lie. You lie! I can see your fucking eyes! Stay away!

"Il n'y a rien de mal à mes yeux, Damie. Je promets. Vous êtes malade. C’est tout ça, petit frère, je le promets. Juste-" -> There is nothing wrong with me, Damie. I promise. You are sick. That's it, little brother, I promise. Just-

“Damien, s’il vous plait, c’est d’accord, tu es malade.” -> Damien, please, it's alright, you're sick.

“Je ne suis pas malade! Je sais ce que tu es!  Lâchez-moi!” -> I'm not sick! I know what you are! Let me go!

”Tu es délirant! Je suis Celine! Je ne suis pas l’esprit!” -> You're delirious! I'm Celine! I'm not a spirit!

“Meurtrier!” -> Liar!

“Damien, s'il te plaît.” -> Damien please!

“Laisse-moi partir!” -> Let me go!

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