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Gabriel wasn’t sure exactly when they had become comfortable with each other.
Their relationship wasn’t that of a typical father and son. Fate had seen to that. A thousand years of mistrust and resentment still lingered in the back of Trevor’s heart, ready to surface at any moment. Gabriel felt like he was walking on eggshells, dreading that a careless comment or thoughtless action would have his son despising him yet again. Gabriel’s own emotional state, meanwhile, would take an army of psychiatrists to even attempt to dissect.
But they had time, and they would make things work.
-
Maybe it had been the night Trevor got caught in a rainstorm. He had set out to some store or other – Gabriel hadn’t bothered to ask – but hadn't checked the weather. When he stepped through the cathedral doors sopping wet and dripping rainwater onto the tiled floor, Gabriel couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
Trevor gave him an angry look, but there was no real malice behind it.
“I’m sorry, is something funny?” He asked, wringing out his jacket.
“You look like a drowned dog,” Gabriel replied between chuckles.
Trevor stalked over to him, dropping his thoroughly-soaked shopping bags carelessly to the floor. Gabriel sputtered and shouted a noise of protest when Trevor leaned in close and shook his head back and forth, water flying from his hair and spraying his father.
“Oh, excuse me,” Trevor smiled. “That’s how wet dogs dry off.”
-
Or maybe it had been the night a few days after that, when he had returned home to find Trevor on top of a tall bookcase, scrubbing at its old wooden surface with a cloth.
“What on Earth are you doing?” He called. His son glanced down at him and smiled.
“Cleaning! This place is filthy. Just because we’re monsters doesn’t mean we have to live like ones.” He paused in his ministrations, pointed at a pile of cleaning supplies on the table in the center of the room.
“Why don’t you help me?”
Gabriel couldn’t resist a smile as he picked up a feather duster. Then, something occurred to him.
“Trevor…you realize this place is huge, correct?”
“We’ll take it one room at a time!”
Gabriel shook his head. Sometimes, he missed having servants.
-
It probably hadn’t been the night a week later. The cathedral had been thoroughly cleaned and partially renovated, and Trevor was taking time to wander leisurely around the place, admiring their handiwork. Gabriel approached him, intending to ask what he thought of the changes.
What came out instead was, “What was your childhood like?”
He wanted to take back the question as soon as it had left his mouth. He didn’t know why he had asked it. He was curious, yes, but now wasn’t the time at all. It was too soon. It probably brought up terrible memories for Trevor, reminded him of things they were both trying to move on from.
Trevor’s eyes met the floor.
“A lot like yours, probably. I was raised by the Brotherhood. I didn’t know my parents, not until…well. I…” He frowned. “I don’t remember much.”
It was clear he wanted to say something else, but he held it back.
“Is that it?” Gabriel prodded.
“What else do you want to know?”
“When were you born?”
Trevor looked up, incredulous.
“Really? Father, it’s been hundreds of years, I can barely remember dates far more important than that of my birth.”
“So you have no idea?”
Trevor rubbed his temple, closed his eyes.
“I believe it was around 1050. The exact year eludes me.”
Gabriel hummed thoughtfully.
“I’m going to assume you don’t know the exact day, either.”
“No, of course not.”
“Thank you. I was just curious.”
-
But it could have been another rainy evening several days later when Gabriel approached Trevor in the entrance hall, where he was fussing over the curtains.
“What color do you think would work well with this room?” Trevor asked as he heard his father’s footsteps, running the moth-eaten, dusty fabric between his fingers.
“Red.”
“You think everything should be red.”
“Guilty as charged. Now, forget about the curtains for a moment and turn around.”
Trevor let the fabric fall out of his hand and cover the tall, stained-glass windows again. He turned around and raised an eyebrow when he saw his father holding both his hands behind his back, a mischievous smile on his face.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands. I have something for you.”
Trevor raised an eyebrow, his skepticism tangible.
“Please?” Gabriel pleaded.
Trevor relented, closing his eyes and holding his hands in front of him. Gabriel placed something in his palms. Trevor frowned at how light it was.
“Open your eyes.”
Trevor did. He stared at what he was holding.
“Happy birthday, son.”
Trevor smiled incredulously, examining the brightly-decorated cupcake in his hands.
“But, it’s not my – ”
“Neither of us know when your birthday is. Therefore, as the head of this household, I’m declaring it to be today. You deserve to celebrate it with your family, for once.” He placed a hand on Trevor’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry it’s a few hundred years late.”
It was the first time he’d seen his son really grin. The expression lit up the room.
“There is no way you baked this yourself.”
“Heavens, no, there’s a bakery downtown.”
-
There was a very small chance it had been the day when Gabriel had found Trevor awake in the middle of the day, hunched over in a chair in the sitting room, his head cradled in his hands.
“Trevor?” He called softly. “It’s the middle of the day, what are you doing out here?”
He himself often roamed during the daylight hours. He didn’t need sleep the same way Trevor did, and sunlight wasn’t nearly as dangerous to him. But seeing Trevor up at this hour was unusual.
Trevor barely looked up, his long hair hiding most of his face.
“I can’t sleep,” he answered. His voice was rough, pained.
“Are you all right?” Gabriel crossed the room and took a seat across from his son. Trevor kept his head down.
“I’m fine. Just nightmares.”
“Ah.”
There was a long silence. The creaks and sighs of the old building echoed in the absence of any other noise.
“What are they about?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I want to know if I’m the cause of them.”
Trevor glanced up at that. He sat up and leaned back in the high-backed chair, sighing.
“I’m not afraid of you, father. I’m afraid for you, and I’m afraid of what you have the potential to become, again. But I’m not afraid of you.”
Gabriel was relieved to hear that.
“If you don’t mind, then, what is causing them?”
Trevor held up a hand, curled his fingers, stared at them.
“A thousand years is a long time for bad experiences to pile up.”
Trevor let his arm fall and went silent. Gabriel took the hint and stood.
“If you ever want to talk about it…”
“You’ll be here. I understand.”
-
There was a greater chance it had been several days later, when Trevor decided he did want to talk about it.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.” Trevor was in front of the fireplace in their newly-renovated library, coaxing a fire to life from the dry logs.
“Are you cold?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel kneeled down in front of the fire, shooing Trevor away and tending to the blaze himself. Trevor sat down on a long red couch with a sigh.
“Nightmares, again?”
Gabriel assumed his son would be reluctant to share, as always. To his surprise, the words had barely left his mouth before Trevor was speaking.
“A thousand years, but I’d never been possessed until this one.”
Gabriel slid the grate in front of the fireplace, sat beside Trevor.
“I never thought it would hurt so much.”
“Trevor – ”
“It wasn’t even the physical pain that was the problem. I could deal with that. It was the violation. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have someone lock your own consciousness away? To lose all control of your body, but retain the ability to see and feel everything you do? Everything that’s done to you?”
Gabriel flinched.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“No, you didn’t. I know that. But…” Trevor clenched his fists. “In my dreams, you do. You want to hurt me. In my dreams, you’ve never changed. You would still kill me without hesitation. And I don’t – ”
Trevor’s voice was cut off as Gabriel pulled him into a tight embrace.
-
But, if you asked Gabriel, it had almost certainly been the next day. Gabriel had started a fire for himself, lounging in the library with an old book in his hand. With how many restless nights Trevor had been experiencing lately, Gabriel expected to hear his son walk into the room. What he actually heard was the soft clicking of paws padding across the tiled floor.
At first, he thought a wild animal had gotten into the cathedral, until he looked up and was faced with the sharp golden eyes of a white wolf.
“Can’t sleep?”
The wolf bobbed its head, touched its nose gently against his leg.
“It’s warm in here. Would you like to sit with me?”
The animal answered by hopping up onto the couch, curling against Gabriel’s side and resting its head in his lap. Gabriel scratched its ears gently. It leaned into the touch, letting out a deep breath and closing its eyes.
Yes, it had been that day.