Archive of Our Own ^beta

It'd been easy to tell herself that she'd never drink a drop of human blood. To say she'd live on animals. That even though this was far from ideal, Apo could do this. They could do this.

That plan had fallen apart the moment they walked through their front door and saw Truffle.

Truffle, who's eyes lit up the second Apo walked through the door. Truffle, who immediately pressed her body up against the fence wanting back scratches. Truffle, who's happy snorting alerted the other pigs that Apo was back and it was probably dinner time.

And despite the hunger that pounded through every inch of Apo, they just couldn't do it.

She tried again the next morning. Cleo was butchering a cow with their bare hands, licking blood off their fingers as they went. It took Apo several minutes of self-assurance before she worked up the bravery to even approach them, and she didn't even get ten steps from Cleo when the smell hit her in the face like a man getting mugged. Blood and guts and viscera and death and blood.

Apo had doubled over and puked. And proceeded to run and hide in their house for several hours.

This was why Cherri always handled the butcher runs, back home.

Attempt after attempt at drinking blood or eating raw meat failed and Apo really was a complete failure of a vampire, wasn't she? And of course then she discovered the terrible lucky fact that she could still eat food, even if it tasted like charcoal in her mouth and made her feel so so utterly sick and ended up leaving her hungrier than when she started.

They could still eat. It was fine. It was fine!

And so baked potatoes it was, each one harder to choke down than the last. Trying to keep up her composure. Going on beacon runs and searching for books and oh-so-desperately trying to seem normal.

They'd had to move Truffle, after that first night. She couldn't help how her mouth watered every time the pig caught her eye.

She'd tried to butcher the rest of the pigs, under the slim hope that her hunger could outweigh the pit of revulsion that sat at her very core. It hadn’t gone well, to say the least.

Apo had ended up giving the rest of the pigs to Cleo, who eyed her suspiciously before taking them to her own livestock pen.

It was fine. Potatoes were fine. Apo can survive like this just fine, and that's all that matters anyway.

Surviving is good enough.

12 days after she died, Martyn comes barging into the tower Apo has made her home.

Apo is curled up in bed, trying to sleep (trying. trying. trying.), ignoring the world outside and cocooning themselves in blankets and self-pity. They groan a bit as they hear the door slam open and Martyn's limping gait galumph up the stairs.

"Oy!! Miss Militia! Get up, it's beacon time!"

Apo does not deign to respond, instead smushing their face further into their pillow.

The footsteps stop as they reach the landing. "Militia?" There's a soft rap of knuckles on wood. "…Apo? You alright?"

A wisp of Martyn's scent catches Apo's nose (honeysuckle and ash) and some animalistic, disgusting part of her wants nothing more than to leap out of bed and tear his throat out with her teeth. Gorge herself on his blood. Feast.

The other parts of her want to puke for just thinking about it.

"…Mm not feelin' well," Apo mumbles.

"Ah, but you know what'll make you feel better? A nice ol' day of consecrating beacons! That always has me in tip-top shape," Martyn yanks the blankets off from Apo's bed and it takes every bit of self control they have left to not recoil and hiss at the sunlight beaming through their windows.

Martyn pouts down at her. "Aww, Apo, come on, just a beacon or two… the whole rest of the militia is coming, it won't be the same without you!" He sighs. "And if you're not feelin' better in a beacon or two we can come straight back. I promise. Hey, maybe we could even get you booked in with the doctor, I'm sure he'd be happy to…" He keeps talking, but Apo tunes it out.

…Curse her people-pleasing ass.

Apo pulls herself to sit up, much to Martyn's excitement. They wave off his excited "Heheyyyy!" with the tired reassurance that they'll be down in a moment. He thumps them on the shoulder as he goes.

Apo can hear that he doesn't close the front door behind him as he leaves. Jerk.

She runs her fingers through her tangled mess of hair and sighs. Okay. A day of beacon consecrating… or at least pretending to. What does she need for a day out of town? Their axe, armor, some water, food (their stomach twists at the thought of more saints-damned potatoes)… There's probably more, but Apo's head is pounding and they can't think straight.

Get up. Come on.

Their vision blacks out when they stand up, and Apo barely manages to catch themselves on the edge of one of their chests. They clutch the wood and gasp, pleading with their knees to function. It takes an awfully long time for them to cooperate.

Potatoes. Potatoes. Eat a potato.

Her hands are shaking and the edges of her vision are still fuzzy as she opens the chest and reaches for a potato.

Her fingers close around open air.

No. No, they can't— they're out? Apo rummages through the chest with increasing desperation and finds nothing nothing nothing. Her knees wobble as she stumbles across the room to her other chests and throws them open, searching for something, anything. She's been neglecting cooking the past few days, yeah, but surely it couldn't have gotten this bad, could it? There has to be something to alleviate the pit in her stomach, even for a moment. There has to be.

Finally- finally- her fingers close around an apple. Old and bruised and barely edible even for a human, but it's something.

Their fangs ache as they take a bite. It tastes like charcoal.

Apo doesn't even manage to eat half of the apple before they gag, and they have to set it aside and breathe for a minute, trying not to puke. Somehow it's even worse than baked potatoes, and Apo had been starting to think that baked potatoes were the literal worst things in the world.

She tucks the half-eaten apple into her satchel, which is still thankfully somewhat packed from the previous day. They give its other contents a once-over, determine they're fine (they've got their axe, that's all that matters), and stumble down the staircase.

The holy beacon makes their skin crawl as they walk by, but they push through it with a shudder. Its light is always hanging in a corner of her consciousness, having chosen to live above it after burning her old house down. Apo tries not to mind. The constant discomfort is a reminder of what they are. What they've become. What they've sacrificed to keep this town safe.

She has to catch herself on the wall again as she reaches the ground floor, and her vision tilts dangerously. Apo waits until the world stops spinning, breathing heavily.

Pull yourself together.

Her hands clench around the strap of her satchel as she makes her way up to the other members of the militia, trying to remain composed.

Ren nods at her, politely. Sausage claps them on the shoulder, and they stumble, barely managing to stay upright. Martyn eyes them, concern edging his smile.

Apo can hear their heartbeats. Three of them, pound pound pounding around her, while her own sits in her chest silent and still and dead. The beat is intoxicating, and Apo finds themselves leaning closer to Sausage, closer, mouth watering…

"…Apo? Apo!!"

She snaps out of it with a sharp inhale. "I— Wha? S-sorry…"

"Are ye alright there, Miz Apo?" Ren asks.

Apo nods, swallowing back saliva. "Y-yeah. Just a— Just tired. I'm fine, I'm fine."

Ren nods, but doesn't look convinced. Apo looks away first.

"So, where to?" Martyn says, his voice cheery. "I was thinking we start with the crypt, as it's closest, and stop by some of the tombs on our way. But then the nearby beacons are all ours, so I wasn't sure where we should head next…"

His voice fades to static as they start walking. Martyn is holding a crudely drawn map, Ren is looking over his shoulder, Sausage is skipping off to one side. Apo stumbles after them.

Their ears ring. Their knees wobble. Their vision swims. Their stomach feels like it's going to rip them apart from the inside out.

Three heartbeats pound in front of her. Three scents mingle on the back of her tongue.

Apo shudders and tries to focus on just walking. Walking. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. She'll feel better after turning some beacons. Surely.

Apo barely registers their foot catching on a tree root until they're already falling. There's a cry as they hit the ground (is it from them? Apo isn't sure). Their hands scrape on the gravel, leaving little red-black spots behind.

She didn't know vampires could still bleed.

The world tunnels around her. It stretches and distorts until it's just her and her bloody hands and the droplets soaking the dirt and the smell of iron in her nostrils.

She doesn't even notice Martyn crouching next to her as the world tilts sideways.

The next thing Apo registers is a CRACK of pain in the back of their head as they’re slammed against something. Hands grip her arms and neck and pin her in place.

She blinks once, twice, trying to clear the spots from her vision.

Sausage and Ren have her pinned up against a tree. Martyn is crouched on the ground behind them, hand pressed to his neck. Red seeping through his fingers.

Apo tastes iron on her tongue.

Oh, saints.

Ren and Sausage are talking, shouting at her, but Apo doesn't register their words. All she can see is Martyn, lying in the dirt, blood pouring from a bite mark on his neck.

Monster.

Apo turns her head to the side and pukes.

They come to again on the ground, crouched on all fours, coughing up bloody spittle.

Sausage is frantically scrubbing at his sleeve with a handkerchief. Ren has his sword drawn and pointed at her. Martyn has made his way to his feet and is limping over.

They're saying things. The words slide in and out of Apo's ears like water, finding no purchase in their skull.

Three heartbeats pound in front of her.

Ren's foot collides with their side and Apo yelps, falling over. Prone, she stares up at the tip of his sword, leveled at her throat.

A voice cuts through the static. Martyn. "—the hell, Apo?"

"…on me!! She barfed on me! On my nice coat— this is real leather, you know—"

"Shut up, Sausage!"

"—was custom made by one of the best tailors in the capital, and it's ruined, it's ruined—"

"How long." Martyn snarls down at Apo, gaze steely.

Apo is shaking. Her mouth opens, but no words come out.

"HOW LONG?!" He shouts, stamping his foot on the ground.

Apo flinches back. "I— A couple— a couple d-days—"

"A couple DAYS? And you didn't TELL US?!"

Martyn's shouts are loud enough it startles a bird a few trees over, who takes to the skies with an indignant squawk.

Apo's eyes close and they shrink further back. "I'm sorry, I'm— I thought I could— I thought I could— I could— I didn't mean to—"

"A vampire in the ranks of town, of our militia, lying to us!" Martyn scoffs. "What, have you been selling our secrets to them? Betraying us behind our backs?"

She shakes her head, frantically. "N-no, I would— I would never— Martyn—"

"And why should we trust you, huh? You just attacked me!"

Apo chokes on a sob. "I— you don't— Martyn, Martyn please—"

"Please what, Apo?! You could've killed me—"

"You— you don't understand—"

"Understand what?"

"I'm SO HUNGRY."

It gets quiet at that. Quiet enough Apo can hear tree branches, rustling in the breeze.

"I'm… I'm so hungry. Please, Martyn—"

"That doesn't mean— Can't you eat animals?" He sputters.

Apo nearly retches at that. "N-no, they— It— blood makes me sick."

"Well, clearly!" Sausage interjects. "You ruined my coat!"

"Not the time, Mister Em," Ren growls.

"And yet you're fine with attacking me," Martyn said, voice as cold as ice.

"No, no I didn't mean to! I— I lost control, I didn't— I swear—"

"You swear? You swear?" Martyn throws his hands out, exasperated. "Swear what— that you'll be better? That you won't attack us? How are we supposed to trust that?"

Apo's gaze flickers to the still-oozing wound on his neck. "I… I—"

"Exactly." Martyn spits.

A beat of silence, and then Sausage says, "You know you could've asked. I would have happily let you suck on my neck— at least before you ruined my very nice coat, of course—"

"Shut up, Sausage."

"Sorry."

"Mister Woodhurst has a point, Miz Apo. How are we s'posed to trust you, don't'cha know?" Ren says.

Apo can't meet his gaze at that. "I— I don't know, I'm sorry—"

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Martyn hisses.

The world swims. With tears or nausea or exhaustion or hunger, Apo doesn't know.

"What— what should we do with them?" Sausage stammers. "There's the jail cell Avid made back in town—"

No. 

"No," Apo croaks. "Please."

"Miz Apo should not be allowed back in Oakhurst at all," Ren pins them with his stare. "After all, a hungry vampire is a dangerous vampire, don't'cha know."

Panic spikes through Apo's unbeating heart. "No—"

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Mister Ren," Martyn says. If looks could kill, Apo would've been dead a thousand times over. "She's too dangerous to be allowed in town."

Her throat feels like it's closing up. "Wait, p-please, Martyn—" she tries to push herself upright, reaching for her closest friend in all of Oakhurst—

Martyn draws his rapier in one swift motion, bloody hand coming down from his neck to grasp the hilt of his blade as he levels it at her heart. From here, Apo can see just what they've done: the teeth marks and bloody gashes trailing down Martyn's neck.

Apo can't move. Can't breathe. Can't think anything other than please, no.

"I'd start running if I were you," Martyn tells her, voice dangerously cool and quiet, weapon still posed to strike. "We'll give you a thirty second head start."

Apo's always been good at running.

They ran from the vampires when they'd first been cornered. They ran from Fernsfield when everything went wrong. They ran from their family when their gazes first turned cold and uncaring.

They'd run to Oakhurst because there was supposed to be nothing here, and they could finally get a break from it all.

And yet here they are, still running.

Poorly. Worse than they usually do.

Apo's vision is blurry and her limbs heavy and she keeps tripping over things and she doesn't know where her pursuers are but they're behind her, they're coming for her. Her body feels as if it's being puppeted like a poorly-made marionette, and Apo is only in control of half of the strings.

They try to shift into a bat, not for the first time. Nothing happens, but the effort sends pain shooting through Apo and their knees buckle. They can't help but let out a small whimper.

She's too weak. She's weak and exhausted and she's going to die out here without ever seeing Cherri again.

There's a shout off to her left. Apo starts, stumbling forward and using her hands to catch herself.

Go. Go. Go. Run.

It's a stumbling run, crashing through undergrowth and getting whipped in the face by branches and their skirt tearing on brambles. Apo's vision is spinning and she closes her eyes for a moment, trying not to be sick, and—

BAM. Runs face-first into a tree.

Stars and darkness and flashes of brown as she falls— tumbles— crashes— skids—

Everything hurts. Apo can't see. Can't hear anything besides the screaming in their ears.

A normal human would be unconscious, broken and bloodied and dying on the forest floor.

Apo isn't a normal human anymore. They're broken and bloodied on the forest floor, but they're not dead yet.

The world around her fades in and out as she drags herself inch by inch. Her fingers scramble for purchase amid the dirt and roots.

Somehow they find themselves squeezed under some bushes. It's good enough. They can't go any further.

The world fades in and out in snippets.

She hears voices in the distance at some point. The words don't register in their head.

No one finds them.

She's so hungry.

What little thinking she manages is devoted to food. Grand five-course feasts. Home-cooked meals with her love. Stew shared with friends. Roasted chicken by the fireside. Prime cuts of steak. A whole pig, turning on a spit. The butcher shop back home and their hanging slabs of meat. A freshly-killed deer still leaking blood into the soil. Sinking her fangs into someone and pulling, pulling, pulling all of their life and warmth out of them and into her chest and leaving none, none, none for anyone else.

It's gotten dark around them. How long has it been?

The thing that drives them back to their feet is their stomach, of course. The splitting pains throughout their body have fallen to a dull ache, but the hunger never fades. It cleaves at her insides with an axe, carving away at her, piece by piece, demanding more, more, more.

It will not stop until the void is filled.

Apo watches distantly as her body pulls itself up and forwards.

Awareness comes in bits and pieces.

Red moonlight streaming through tree branches.

Hanging on to trees and gasping for air she no longer needs.

Pulling herself back to her feet when she falls. And falls. And falls. Over and over again.

Finally, the faint badabadabadabadabadabada of a tiny heartbeat.

A squirrel. In a tree, in front of her.

A branch cracks beneath their feet as they approach and it runs.

Apo wants to fall down and cry. But Apo's not in control right now.

They press on after the faint trail the squirrel leaves behind.

And then, a new scent.

It's not warm, there is no heart beating with it. But something about it snaps Apo back into their body in an instant, adrenaline rushing through them.

She wobbles precariously for a moment and her hand goes out to lean against the nearest tree. Apo surveys her surroundings shakily. Their vision is dark and fuzzy around the edges.

They're standing still, but the scent grows stronger. Lavender and… stone? Damp stone. It's familiar, but Apo's thoughts are all twisty in her head and she can't quite place it. She can't hear anything, no heartbeats, no footsteps (her ears haven't stopped ringing), but something prickles across the back of her neck. Something's not right.

"Well, fancy seeing you here."

Scott.

Apo fumbles at their satchel (which they still have, somehow), reaching for their axe, and the elder vampire appears out of thin air right in front of them.

Apo yelps and stumbles back a few steps, fingers finally closing around the handle of their axe. She pulls it out and holds it in the space between them, posed to attack.

They ignore how the shaking in their hands makes it impossible to hold the axe steady.

"Apo," Scott gives her the faintest tilt of his chin in acknowledgement. He looks… different? From when Apo last saw him? Something has changed but her head is too foggy and she can't remember and it's not important, anyway.

"S-scott. What— what are you… doing h-here…"

He raises an eyebrow. "Hunting. You? You're awfully far from town…" He tsks. "Did you get lost? Or have you decided to join us at last?"

Scott steps forward. Apo steps back.

"N-no, I would— I— never—"

"Then why are you out so deep in the woods, in the dead of night?" He takes another step forward. Apo takes another one back. "Hunting as well? I thought the town had plenty of livestock…"

Apo swallows. "Leave— leave me a-alone, Scott."

He smirks at her. "And why would I do that?" Another step forward. Another step back.

"I'm— I'm warning you." Apo hefts the axe (her hands are shaking like leaves in the wind) and the effort causes her to stumble a bit.

Scott's grin fades a bit and he tilts his head, looking at them. "…Are you alright?"

"Fi— fine." Apo grits out. She takes another step back and her back brushes against a tree. She jumps a bit at the unexpected contact.

Scott's face falls further as he studies them. "I somehow doubt that." He takes another step closer.

Apo tightens their grip on the axe. "Get— get away fr-from me."

Another step. "What's wrong?"

"Sco— Scott I s-swear if you don't— if you don't b-back up right—"

He closes the remaining distance between them in two steps.

Apo swings her axe at his head.

She doesn't even get it above her shoulders when he catches part of the handle, stopping her. "Let's not do that, hmm? I thought we were even now, weren't we?"

Oh, saints. She's going to die.

Apo can't stop shaking. They can smell iron on Scott's breath, and it makes their stomach turn and scream and claw at her insides desperately.

Scott pushes her axe aside with one finger, and it slips from Apo's trembling hands. He steps in even closer (Apo tries to back up, she tries, she's still up against the tree), and cups her chin. She flinches at the contact.

Scott turns their face back and forth, studying them. Apo shuts their eyes. She's going to die.

"Have you been eating?"

Ice floods her spine. Hunger stabs at her gut. Apo's eyes fly open and she meets Scott's gaze.

He looks… concerned?

She tries to shake her head despite Scott's grip on her chin, and sputters "N-no, I— S-scott, no, I'm— I'm fine, I—"

"Apo."

They flinch. Hard.

"Do you need blood?"

Yes, the yawning void tearing them apart screams. Please, anything.

Apo gags, instead.

Scott frowns a bit deeper. "If you needed he—"

Apo summons every last bit of energy left in her soul and shoves Scott back. She's not going to win this fight, she knows that now, she should have realized it earlier. She has to escape.

Scott actually stumbles back half a step, and Apo seizes the opportunity to duck out from under him and turn and run.

They don't make it very far.

Not even a step.

The foot Apo sets down immediately refuses to hold their weight and they tumble to the ground with a cry.

Above them, Scott lets out a curse.

No. No. Go. Run.

She tries to crawl, but a hand at the small of her back sends her into the dirt again. She tries to thrash, but strong arms curl under her legs and chest and lift her up. She tries to cry but a cool voice hushes her and she is bundled up against a warm, unbeating chest.

Lavender curls in their nostrils.

The world goes dark.

A castle on a cliffside.

Darkness closing around her.

Warmth. Safety. Comfort.

Liquid in their mouth. They choke and sputter but swallow and they're so thirsty, they drink and drink until the liquid runs dry.

Cool hands against their skin.

Gentle vibrations all around them, luring them to sleep.

Consciousness comes in levels.

Warmth. A soft humming. Darkness.

Fabric curling underneath her fingers. A warm form, pressing into her back.

Apo blinks awake drearily, and can't see anything besides darkness.

She blinks again, and yawns. Is their bedroom usually this dark? Cherri usually likes to sleep with a lamp still burning, just in case…

No, wait. They're in Oakhurst.

But their tower in Oakhurst has windows… it never gets really dark…

Wait.

Scott.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Adrenaline floods through her, and Apo shifts around, trying to sit up, and the warmth pressed against her back makes a noise of indignation. Apo freezes, looks over, and—

It's Pyro. Of course it's Pyro. She's trapped somewhere with an unconscious Pyro.

Apo's head is fuzzy and they can't remember why but they're mad at Pyro. And sleeping next to him is weird. And also Scott's probably around here somewhere. Apo can smell him.

Apo can smell several different people, actually, but they can't quite place the others. They waste a moment laying there next to Pyro, sniffing the air, trying to figure out who, before realizing they should probably be escaping instead.

Yes. Escaping. Because Scott kidnapped them.

Or something.

Apo rolls away from Pyro (who makes a small, sad noise in the back of their throat) and onto her stomach, leveraging her hands underneath her.

She doesn't feel great. It's like sandbags have been tied to her limbs and head and that there's also a small boulder resting on her back, but Apo tries to power through.

Through no small effort, they push themselves up and maneuver around until they're sitting on their knees. Apo pants a bit and looks around, trying to figure out where she is.

The room is dark. Very dark. The only thing she can discern is a cutout of distant light off to one side. A door, maybe? Or a hallway?

Either way it's probably a way out of here. Apo starts crawling her way towards it, over more fabric and pillows and… furs? Or something? Apo doesn't think about it.

She does bang into the wall a bit when she reaches it. They yelp, rubbing at the now-sore spot on their head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. They're able to use the wall as a crutch, though, and slowly maneuver themselves to standing.

Apo leans heavily against the wall as they begin to try and make their way over to the faint light. Her legs feel like jelly underneath her.

The light turns out to be a hallway, and Apo stumbles around the corner to clutch the wall again. She can't make out much more, but there's a distant light coming from further down, so she starts making her way towards that.

The walls and floor around them are stone. There are pillars and divots inlaid in the walls, but any more detail is lost to the darkness. The air is stale and still.

Her stomach hurts.

Step after stumbling step, Apo moves closer and closer to the light. It looks like this hallway connects to another hallway ahead of them, and the light is bleeding from somewhere around the bend.

The stone is rough and cool under their hands and feet. They're not wearing their boots, but they can't worry about that right now. Never mind all the jagged pebbles they keep stepping on.

She’s lived through worse.

Suddenly a small whiff of lavender catches Apo's nose and they freeze, looking up just in time to see a shadow turn the corner in front of them.

"Oh dear. What are you doing up?"

Apo whimpers.

"You leave them alone for five minutes, god…" Scott mutters as he approaches.

Apo staggers back a step. And another. And then they turn and try to run.

Scott is there to catch her as she falls, cape swooping around the both of them grandly. Apo protests and struggles, but he lifts her off the ground in one smooth motion.

He holds her tight to his chest as he walks back towards the dark room. Apo tries to hit him, to kick, to escape, but Scott's arms are ironclad around them.

"I— ghhh— p-put me down— Scott—"

"In just a moment, childe. Just a moment."

He carries them back into the dark room. "I'll have to block off the entrance next time," he mutters, stepping gingerly around pillows. "Seriously, five minutes. Five!!"

Pyro hums a bit as Scott lowers the both of them down next to the sleeping man. Apo tries to lash out, to break out of Scott's grip as it loosens, but the second that they're laying down their limbs seem to triple in weight, and moving becomes even more impossible.

Apo tries to scream. All that comes out is a weak little cry.

She's so tired, all of a sudden.

Scott chuckles, sitting next to her. His hand finds its way to her hair and starts stroking it gently, and Apo's brain short circuits. "Go back to sleep, now," he says.

Apo wants to protest. They really do, but all they manage is to mutter "I hate you so much," as their eyelids get heavier and heavier.

Scott laughs again. "I know. The feeling is mutual, don't worry."

Apo's sleepy.

She grumbles and shifts around a bit.

"…Apo?"

Apo hums a bit in response.

"Oh, Apo, are you awake? Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry if I did…"

The voice is familiar. "…Shelby?"

"Yeah! Yeah, that's me! Are… you doing okay? Can I get you anything?"

"Mmmmm." Apo peels their eyes open a bit and can almost make out the silhouette of another person, but it's still far too dark and they're definitely not awake enough to try any harder.

They are a bit confused, though. This isn't home, so… "Wh… where arhh…"

"Hmm? Oh! We're in the nest, don't worry."

The nest? 

"…Nest?"

"Yeah! it's safe here, we're taking care of you. You're okay."

"Mmmhmm…" Apo is definitely missing something. She's not quite sure how she got here, or what happened, and thinking is making her head hurt. Which probably means she should stop doing that.

"Oh! Um, are you hungry at all? Apo?"

Hungry? Apo frowns, and tries to pay attention to how she feels, and… yeah. They nod.

"Alright, okay! Hold on just a second!"

There's movement, rusting, a clinking of glass. Apo peels one eye open but, nope, still pitch-black.

Shelby returns, holding something, and Apo is able to make out a bit of her form as she approaches, squatting down next to them. Her hair is long and brushes over Apo's cheek as she leans over her.

Shelby helps her to sit up with a hand at her back and whispers of encouragement. They help Apo to grip a bottle of… something… and lift it to her lips.

Liquid pours into their mouth and they gulp it down. Warmth spreads outwards from their chest as they drink.

It doesn't taste like anything.

Apo drinks until the bottle is dry, and even then her tongue comes out, searching for any last drops. Shelby withdraws the bottle with a giggle, her hand rubbing circles on Apo's back.

Apo feels warm, and her head is a bit clearer. She leans against Shelby and their arms encircle her in a hug, holding her close.

"'ere's Scott," Apo mutters.

"He's out hunting, I think! Either that or desecrating some beacons," Shelby replies, chipper as always. "I can go try and find him if you want…"

Apo shakes their head. No, they do not want to see Scott right now. That would be bad.

"Alright," Shelby whispers, and leans their head to rest on Apo's shoulder. "Do you want some more to eat, then, or do you want to go back to sleep? Or something else?"

Apo thinks for a moment, blinking in the darkness. "Sleep," they decide, after a moment. They don't really want to move right now, curled up with Shelby.

Shelby fusses over the blankets a bit as Apo lays back down. Apo catches her wrist before she can pull away, and hums a bit, trying to pull her down as well.

What can she say? It's chilly, and Shelby is warm.

"Oh Apo I— oh, alright…" Shelby sighs, and curls up next to them.

Apo drifts off to sleep warm and cozy, wisp of a smile still present on their face.

The next time Apo wakes, it's to quiet voices and sturdy hands tucking a blanket around her body.

It's cozy. She doesn't want to get up.

"…last report, they're only going to get more aggressive."

A scoff. "We've hardly done anything to them."

"Yet."

"Mmm."

The same sturdy hand brushes a curl off of Apo's forehead. They don't stir. Based on the hands, and the voices… it's Owen? Owen and Scott, she thinks. And she does not feel like dealing with either one of them right now.

"Do you think they'll be so bold as to try coming here, again?"

"Probably. But we have a watch for a reason."

"Hmm. Is Pyro on watch right now?"

"I believe so. Why?"

"I was hoping to go beacon-hunting later, thought I'd invite them with me."

"Well, wait until Shelby gets back so there'll be someone to stay with Apo."

"Of course, of course."

There's a pause. A small reshuffling of blankets.

"…How's she been doing, anyway?" Owen's voice again.

"Hmm?"

"Apo."

"Oh, of course. She's getting better. They still sleep most of the time, but we try to get a few bottles of crimson in them whenever we can."

"I see."

"Hopefully she'll be back on her feet in… hmm. A week or so?"

"That's good. We could use the extra hands."

"…We can grow our ranks, if extra hands is what you're after."

"Saints, no. There's hardly enough blood to go around as is."

"So then we simply have to wait for Apo to recover."

"Mmm. Or convince Cleo to join us."

"Cleo's not leaving the town so long as Pearl's there."

"We turn Pearl, then. Two for one deal."

A chuckle. "Whatever happened to 'barely enough blood to go around?'"

"I— Hggghh. We'd figure something out, I'm sure!"

"Or course, of course."

"…So. Yes. Target Pearl, then?"

"Mmm. Perhaps. I'll have to discuss it with the rest of the coven, of course."

"Of course, yes."

"But it would be in our best interests. Pearl’s a strong fighter, and getting both her and Cleo on our side would be invaluable."

"…How do you propose we go about it?"

"Oh, we'll wait until Pyro and Shelby are here to figure out the details. I'm sure they'd want to be involved."

"Of course."

Apo kinda feels like she should warn Pearl. That seems like the right thing to do. Warn Pearl, keep her safe… But also the blankets are really cozy right now and Apo thinks moving maybe isn't such a great idea.

"…How can you stand to stay down here so long?"

"Someone's got to keep an eye on Apo. Plus, it's surprisingly comfortable. You should join us more often."

"Don't you… I don't know, get bored?

A rustle of paper. "I have six hundred years of literature to catch up on, of course not! Shelby really has an impressive collection— have you had a chance to read any of Mr. M's novels? They're really quite fascinating, if not a bit overdramatic for my tastes…"

"Overdramatic? You?"

A laugh. "I know!"

Mmm. Apo's never read any of Mr. M's books. She's pretty sure they're all full of men kissing, though.

"…Well. If that's all, I'll take my leave."

"Oh, come Owen, sit with us a while longer—"

"It's really not my place—"

"You're a part of this coven, are you not?"

"Yes, but I'm not your fledgling," Owen spits that last word.

"So?"

"Just drop it, Goldsmith."

"…Alright. If you insist."

"Thank you."

"I trust I'll see you later?"

"Undoubtedly."

Receding footsteps, accompanied by the fading smell of pine needles.

A sigh. A hand brushes through her hair, and Apo hardly suppresses the shiver that travels down her spine at the contact.

Everything feels fuzzy.

"It's alright, childe," a voice murmurs. "Go back to sleep."

Apo obliges.

The next time Apo wakes up, it's quiet enough that she thinks she's alone, at first.

They can actually see, this time. They're in the same dark room that they've woken up in before, but they can make out clear forms in the darkness. Pillows, blankets. Pillars along the wall. A stack of books in the corner.

It takes a second for Apo to be able to sit up. Their body still feels heavy and unwieldy, and they can tell that their hands are still trembling a bit. They rub at their eyes a bit and pull their legs in to sit criss-cross.

"Good morning."

Apo's heart sinks. She looks over her shoulder to see—

Scott. Lounging up against a wall, legs kicked out in front of him, book propped open on his lap. "Are you actually awake this time, or are you just going to have another tantrum and fall back asleep? I really would prefer the former at this point."

Apo frowns. "I'm awake," she mutters, scooting so she's facing Scott.

Saints, why did it have to be Scott? Apo's memories from the past few… days? Weeks? Are fuzzy at best, but they can at least remember several other people having been around. Shelby, for one. And Pyro, and Owen…

On second thought, they don't really want to talk to Pyro or Owen either.

Apo scratches an itch on the side of her head and stifles a yawn. "What… what happened? Where am I?"

Scott lifts a delicate eyebrow. "You don't remember?"

"I… maybe? It's all kinda fuzzy…"

He closes his book and leans forward. "Tell me what you do remember."

Apo blinks, and blinks again. "Um." She tries to think back. "You… turned me. And I went back to town."

"Yes."

"And then… mmmg… stuff happened?"

"Tell me the important parts."

Apo sits there, and tries to think. Tries to remember. "I… I got found out."

"Mmhmm."

"I… attacked someone. Martyn? And they…" A chill creeps down Apo's spine as it all comes back. "They chased me out of town."

Martyn's ice-cold gaze as he pulled his sword on her.

Shouts behind them as the other members of the militia pursue them stumbling through the woods.

Apo shivers.

"And why was that?"

They look back up at Scott, confused. "What?"

"Why did you attack Martyn?"

Apo furrows her brow at him. "I was hungry."

Scott huffs. "Well, yes, but why were you hungry?"

"Because… I hadn't eaten?"

"But why hadn't you— hfff. Fine. We'll come back to this later. What happened then?"

Apo blinks, slowly, and stares at the floor, trying to think. "I… ran. Through the woods. And found you."

Scott nods. "And then?"

Apo shrugs. "Not sure."

"You don't remember anything after that?"

She shakes her head. "Bit and pieces? I dunno."

"Well." Scott smooths down his waistcoat and leans forward. "I went out hunting, and came across you in the woods, sick and starving—"

"I wasn't starving!" Apo protests.

"Oh, yes you were!" Scott snaps back. "And we'll be discussing that later. Anyway, as I was saying…"

Apo frowns and sulks a bit as Scott continues on. "I found you in the woods, and you passed out in front of me. I could tell something was wrong, obviously, and so I brought you back to the castle. The coven and I have been taking care of you ever since."

He scoffs, a bit. "You tried to escape when you first woke up, about a week ago. It was adorable."

Apo sputters in protest. "Adorable? I— you—"

"It was clearly an unsuccessful attempt, but I shouldn't have to tell you that," Scott says, inspecting one of his claws. "We've been feeding you any time you wake up, but you've hardly been coherent until now. Good to see that's finally changing."

Apo stares, head swimming. "How… how long has it been?"

"Since you were kicked out of town? Two weeks," he says, picking at his cuticle. "Nothing interesting has happened, don't worry."

Two weeks??

She's been asleep for two weeks?!

Apo has to sit back for a moment, head reeling. They'd barely been in Oakhurst a month before that, and to think that two more weeks have passed by without their knowledge sends ice creeping through their chest.

Oh, saints, wait— Cherri.

She hadn't been able to stomach sending that last letter she had started writing. Which means it's nearly been an entire month since Cherri has heard from them.

Apo kind of wants to cry.

"And they haven't— they haven't come looking for me? Or anything?" Apo asks, shakily.

"The townsfolk?" Scott scoffs. "They threw you out, what more do you need?"

They kicked you out.

Martyn's ice-cold gaze as he pulled his sword on her.

Apo almost doesn't believe it. She doesn't want to believe it. To believe their own faulty memories and Scott's twisting words.

They want to have faith in the friends they've made. The connections they've started to forge.

But they also remember Avid's never-ending shouts about vampires. How quickly they all were to lash out at any vampire they saw. The way Shelby's house had crackled when it burned. The paranoia that had been inching deeper and deeper into town with each passing day.

How she'd almost eaten Truffle. How she'd burnt her own house down, so Pyro couldn't come back. How they'd looked the other members of the militia in the eyes and said they had no secrets to share, even when the hunger curled sharp and insistent and unending in their gut.

A jagged bite torn into the side of their closest friend's neck.

Monster.

Apo should be dead in a ditch right now. By all accounts, she should be lying helpless in the woods as her body gave out against the supernatural strength holding it together and the hunger ripped her apart from the inside out. She should not be here, in a warm, dark room with Scott of all people. They hate Scott. They hate him!

"Why— why am I here?"

"Hmm?" Scott doesn't look at them, still seemingly fixated on his manicure.

"I was under the impression you didn't really like me," Apo spits. "I don't like you."

Scott glances at her, unphased. "Oh, no, I don't like you at all. Please do not misinterpret this as me liking you. Eugh."

Apo's head reels. "Then— why are you taking care of me?!"

"Because you're coven," Scott states, like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"…I'm what?"

"Part of the coven. Think of it as a… big, happy, vampire family."

Apo sputters. "I— what? No!"

Scott turns his head to look at her, then. "…Yes."

"No!!"

"Yes."

"But I didn't—"

"I turned you, did I not?" Scott tilts his head, slowly, eerily. "Making me your sire, and you my fledgeling."

Apo feels a shiver run down their spine. "…So being a vampire automatically indoctrinates me into a cult. Great."

"Not a cult, a coven," Scott says, voice carefully even.

"Cult, coven, whatever, I don't want to be a part of it. Where's the exit." Apo turns, trying to gather her legs beneath her.

"Apo. Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that's away from you," they spit.

"You can't leave."

"Oh, so I'm a prisoner here?" Apo's knees wobble as they struggle to get up.

"No, but you're not strong enough to leave the nest yet. Sit back down."

"I don't want to be a part of this, Scott. I don't want your help." Not when it came with a cost. And it would, it always did, and Apo would much rather be out fending for herself than sit here and play mind games.

"I'll remind you: you asked to be turned."

"No, I didn't. You coerced me—"

"Apo."

His voice is stony. But it carries something almost like warmth.

"You're a member of this coven, whether you like it or not. And covenmates never abandon one another."

The words ring through the space.

Apo's frozen, momentarily speechless. "But I— no. No, I don't want this. I hate you."

She can feel Scott's eye roll, even though her back is turned. "The feeling is mutual, yes, we've been through this. My personal feelings towards you don't matter, you're coven."

"…That makes no sense," she mutters to herself.

"Makes no sense?" Apo looks up and suddenly Scott is there, looming above her, gaze stern. "What makes no sense is why you were starving in there, all while being surrounded by all the food you could dream of. Make that make sense, hmm?"

Apo's throat clams up. They're not scared of Scott, they're not, but they can't pull out a single snippy reply or even half-decent deflection in response.

"I still— I still don't understand," they stammer, settling down a bit. "Why do you care."

Scott rolls his eyes, kneeling next to her. "We're coven, bound by blood. It's my responsibility to take care of you."

Apo shakes her head, squeezing her eyes closed. "I can take care of myself—"

"Clearly you can't, otherwise we wouldn't be in this situation."

The fight leaks out of Apo, drip by drip. They're so tired. Just trying to stand up has left them weak and shaky.

Scott hovers next to her, hand tentatively hanging above her shoulder, a bit awkward, almost. Like he wasn't quite sure how to deal with her.

His voice, however, betrays no uncertainty. "I am a terrible person, and I take no shame in that. But I am a damn good sire, and I take care of my fledgelings."

Apo hugs her knees to her chest. Scott's hand finally drifts to rest on their shoulder, and they flinch a bit.

"What happened in town, Apo. Why weren't you eating?"

Apo keeps their voice flat. "I told you. I don't do well with blood."

There's a beat of silence.

"…That's it?"

Apo doesn't reply.

"You didn't eat for two weeks. Because you don't like blood."

She nods.

"Seven holy spirits."

He pulls his hand back and runs it through his hair. It still somehow looks flawless afterwards, to Apo's dismay.

Something's been off about Scott this entire time, and it's only now that Apo puts a finger on it. He looks different. His clothes, his hair...

It's a bit hard to make out colors with how dark it still is (how Apo can see at all, she isn't sure), but she distinctly remembers Scott's hair being blue.

It looks white, now.

Apo's so distracted by this that they forget they're actually talking to Scott, until his voice cuts through the quiet again.

"Why did you ask to be turned, then?"

Apo blinks, trying to recall what they were talking about. "I didn't—"

"Oh, don't give me that. Vampires drink blood, everyone knows that. Why ask to be one if you can't handle it?”

Apo squeezes their eyes shut and stays silent, despite every fiber of their being wanting to argue. To fight. To tell Scott how awful he is. But it's no use right now, and they're too tired for this. “Shut up,” they mutter.

Scott goes silent. “...What did you just say?”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” Apo states, flopping over. Luckily she is surrounded by fabric, and her head hits a particularly puffy pillow with a WHFF! “You’re a jerk and your voice is annoying and I’m tired.”

Apo does take the satisfaction of glancing over to see the horror blooming on Scott’s face. It’s sweeter than she could have ever hoped for.

He recovers quickly, though, and shakes his head a bit. “Hff. Fine. Bedtime. But you should eat something first.”

Apo’s vision tunnels. Her stomach flips.

You should eat something first.

Oh, no.

Apo looks up to find Scott already on the opposite side of the room, reaching to pluck a bottle off of a set of stone shelves that have been carved into a wall.

Oh, no no no no no.

The liquid in the bottle sloshes darkly as Scott makes his way back towards her.

Apo feels sick. “I– I just told you I’m not– I’m not g-good with blood–”

Scott sighs, a hint of exasperation coloring his voice. “Just… close your eyes. It’ll be okay.”

Apo sits back up as he kneels down next to them again, trying to shy away, but their stupid body is slow and heavy and weak and won’t move fast enough. Scott uncorks the bottle with a pop.

The smell of blood does not so much curl in their nostrils, as many other scents do. No, the scent of blood stabs them full-force in the face.

Apo retches. Shoves the bottle away. And pukes all over the puffy pillow.

And Scott panics.

The bottle is hastily corked and set down, a blanket is draped over Apo’s shoulders, the pillow is picked up and taken away, curses are spouted. Apo registers this all through coughs that rack their body and spots that dance in their vision. There’s a scraping of stone as some secret door is pulled open and the pillow is chucked out and Scott is back at their side, rubbing their back and grumbling.

“S– sorry,” Apo chokes out. “I– I tried–”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Scott is still clearly annoyed, but it remains purely through the lines between his eyebrows and the tightness in his voice. “It was old and dusty anyways. It’s fine.”

The taste in their mouth is wretched. “Do– do you have any water?”

Scott shakes his head. “Just blood.”

Apo gags again– just at the word– and Scott tenses, clutching her shoulder.

Saints, she’s such a failure. She can’t even be a monster right.

“Okay. Okay,” Scott says, hand returning to her back. “Here, let's try again.”

Apo chokes, pushing away his hands. “N-no– please–”

“Shhh. It’s okay. Apo, listen to me: plug your nose and close your eyes. Okay?”

“W-what? No, but–”

“Just trust me. Please, fledgeling.” 

Apo doesn’t trust him. She does not trust Scott in the slightest. But she squeezes her eyes shut despite herself and clamps her nostrils shut with her shaking fingers and Scott tilts her head back with one hand and brings the bottle to her lips with the other.

Every ounce of Apo revolts as the taste of iron floods their tongue. Their limbs thrash and their stomach heaves and their throat tenses, and they feel sick, they feel so sick, but the blood is pouring into their mouth so fast they can’t do anything but swallow, let it slide down their throat and into their stomach. Gulp after revolting gulp.

…But it gets easier, the more she drinks.

The disgust doesn’t go away. Apo still wants to rip out their own traitorous throat. But a warmth starts to settle at their core, and their stomach calms down enough that Apo can almost convince themselves they’re drinking some sort of soup. That this is nothing more than a nice meal shared with her love. That everything is fine. That she’s not drinking blood.

The bottle is pulled away and Apo gasps, choking a bit on the air. The smell rushes back in and her stomach starts to turn once more, but Apo instead continues to go against all her better judgement and turns to bury her face in Scott’s cloak.

…She’s crying. She hadn’t noticed, until now.

Scott tucks the bottle away somewhere and holds Apo tight. One hand cards through her hair as he whispers praises, encouragement.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s over now. You did so well, childe, you were very brave. Shh, it’s alright. You’re alright now…”

Apo just sobs.

They stay like that, sire and fledgeling, for a long while. Until the world goes soft and sleep reclaims Apo once more.

"Pyro, give it back!!"

"You always take this one, I just want it this one time!"

"I take it because it's mine! Stop being a jerk!"

Apo blinks awake in the middle of an argument. The room is brighter than usual, illuminated by a lamp somewhere. Shelby and Pyro are scuffling over a… blanket? Pyro has a clutch on it and Shelby is pulling at it, slapping at Pyro's hands and face. Pyro is trying to keep a hold on the blanket whilst also defending themselves.

"It's the nicest blanket in the nest! You can't have it all the time!!"

"I'd be willing to share if you asked first—"

Apo props themselves up on one elbow, watching amusedly.

"Also it's not your blanket, it technically belongs to Scott—"

"Oh shut up! You know what he said, 'everything here is—'"

"That doesn't mean you can just hoard it—"

"You guys are such children."

It's almost comical how Pyro and Shelby immediately freeze and slooooowly turn towards Apo, matching looks of guilt upon their faces. And then how they see her at the same time, and the guilt is replaced by equally matching looks of excitement.

"APOOOOOOO!!"

She gets the wind knocked out of her as she is instantly dogpiled by two vampires.

“Auck– hey– get off–” she chokes, shoving at someone’s shoulder.

“You’re awake you’re awake you’re awake!!” Shelby pulls back, beaming at Apo. Her elbow somehow catches Pyro in the nose and they fall backward with an indignant squawk. Apo bites back a snicker.

Shelby’s brow furrows a bit. “You are… awake awake, right? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Apo rolls their eyes and bats at Shelby’s raised hand. “Yes, I’m awake. I’m fine.”

“How many fingers!” Shelby insists, scrambling back and grinning at Apo.

“Five,” Apo relents, amused, shaking their head.

“Incorrect!” Both Apo and Shelby look over at Pyro, who’s laying off to one side. He’s got one finger raised up in an ‘um, actually,’ manner. “The thumb is not a finger. Shelby is only holding up four fingers.”

Shelby throws a pillow at him.

“Anyways,” they continue, turning back to Apo, “It’s really good to see you awake! Most of the times you’ve woken up before you’ve been–”

“A hungry zombie,” Pyro calls, muffled from behind the pillow on their face.

“–pretty out of it,” Shelby finishes, reaching over to punch Pyro in the arm whilst not breaking eye contact with Apo. He squawks again.

Apo can’t help the grin spreading across her face. “So… What's going on? It's a bit more cheerful here than usual.”

“Oh!” Shelby somehow brightens even more. “Slumber party!!”

Apo looks at them, incredulously. “Slumber party?”

“They've become sort of a weekly tradition,” Pyro sits back up. His hair is somehow even messier than before. “Shelby roped us into one a while back and we've just kept doing them.”

Shelby nods. “Mhmm, mhmm– Scott and Owen usually are here as well, well, Scott at least–”

“–But Scott's on watch right now and Owen's off… brooding. Or something.”

“He's probably with the doctor,” Shelby giggles.

Apo short circuits a bit. “Wait– what? Legs??”

“Yeah– There's something weird going on with them, I swear,” Shelby lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

Pyro rolls their eyes. “Owen's got a thing for the doc, blah blah, who cares.”

“I care?” Apo says. “Since when??”

Shelby shrugs. “I dunno. Owen's just reaaaal weird about him. As apparently is Cleo about Pearl, and Martyn about Ren, and–”

Apo sits back for a second and rubs their eyes. She leaves for two weeks and everyone starts going crazy. Of course.

“Anything else I should know about?” Apo grumbles. “Scott said nothing interesting has happened.”

Shelby gapes. “Well Scott would be dead wrong! Plenty of interesting stuff has happened! Like, like– we finished the main wing of the castle, and the tavern in town finally opened, and we’ve had some battles–”

“It’s been a lot of pointless scuffling over beacons,” Pyro interjects, dryly. “Same old, same old.”

“No… no new vampires?” Apo asks, almost not wanting to know the answer. 

Shelby shakes their head. “Nope. We’ve uh– we’ve been sticking pretty close to home lately. Making sure you were safe.”

Oh.

Apo’s chest feels warm, at that.

“Thank you,” she manages. “For leaving them alone.”

Shelby and Pyro share a nervous glance. “...Of course,” Shelby says.

Before Apo has a chance to think about the implications of that, Pyro powers on: “The humans in general have been very quiet ever since you joined us. They hardly ever leave town anymore.”

Apo frowns. “That… doesn’t seem right. They’re never quiet.”

“Well, the few times we’ve seen them they have been quite loud, of course. A lot about you, actually, how we’re ‘horrible monsters’ who ‘stole you from them,’” Pyro looks sickenly smug. “Completely ignoring, of course, that they’re the ones who threw you out.”

“I think they’re scared without you,” Shelby adds.

Apo shakes their head. “I didn’t have much of a voice in town, I don’t… I don’t see why my absence would change all that much.”

“Well, clearly you had a better impact than you thought,” Pyro drawls.

A twinge of guilt makes its way through Apo at that. She… she never wanted to leave town. If only she had tried harder, kept a better eye on their food supply… pushed past their stupid fear of blood…

“Hey.” Shelby scoots to sit directly in front of Apo, breaking their line of sight. “I know that look. That’s the self-pitying look, and that is not allowed during slumber party time.”

Apo starts. “But–”

“If they’re struggling now, it’s their own fault. They kicked you out, and now they have to deal with the consequences of that.”

“If it makes any difference, the times we fought, they never actually asked about you,” Pyro says, voice a bit softer. “It was always ‘you turned her into a monster, rahhh,’ and never ‘where is Apo, is she okay, can we talk to her,’ or anything.”

…That makes it worse, almost.

“Hey, no.” Shelby takes Apo’s hand and squeezes it. “I’m sure they still care about you! They wouldn’t be mad about you being gone if they didn’t, right?”

“And we’re here for you until they come to their senses,” Pyro says with a nod.

Shelby giggles. “And see how awesome you are! And realize how much they screwed up, and what jerks they were to you.”

Apo… nods. Slowly. “Yeah,” she whispers.

They had been jerks, hadn’t they? They hadn’t listened to her at all. They’d chased her through the woods like they were hunting an animal, even.

Yeah. Yeah, Apo doesn’t feel bad being mad at them. 

And maybe they could’ve tried harder to keep staying in town but… maybe it’s better here, anyways? As much as they hate to admit it, they don’t feel… unsafe, here.

Or maybe it’s just that they don’t want to admit that they failed Oakhurst. Just like they failed Fernsfield.

“It’s gotten too gloomy in here,” Shelby states matter-of-factly. “Apo, can I play with your hair?”

Apo blinks once, twice. “What?”

“Your hair is very fluffy and I want to braid it!” she says. “But only if you’re okay with that, of course.”

“...Okay,” Apo says.

“Yay!” Shelby scrambles up and settles down again behind Apo. She tries not to flinch as their hands touch her hair.

Pyro pouts. “You never ask to braid my hair.”

“Your hair isn’t nearly long enough to braid,” Shelby says. “Also when was the last time you brushed it?”

Pyro sputters. “That’s– my hair is fine!!”

“Mmm, I would beg to differ,” Shelby says. “Apo, what do you think?”

“It’s pretty bad,” Apo says, smirking a bit.

Pyro flops backwards, covering their eyes. “Betrayaaaaaal,” he wails, but Apo does notice that his hand goes up to start combing through his own hair.

Both of them have the same pale hair and red eyes as Scott did. Their outfits are darker in color now, as well, and both currently missing some pieces: Pyro has shed his coat and neckerchief and Shelby’s corset and cape are lying off to one side.

It’s only then that Apo notices her own outfit is similarly dressed-down. Her capelet and overskirt are missing, leaving her in just her purple dress and stockings. A shiver runs through them at that. Cherri had made them those clothes.

Apo hopes she can find them at some point.

“...I have some… questions, actually,” Apo speaks up after a moment. “About… vampire things.”

Pyro props themselves up on one elbow. “Shoot.”

“First off,” Apo says, glancing around a bit, “where are we?”

“The nest!” Shelby chirps, hands working at a knot in Apo’s hair.

“Right, I gathered that,” Apo says. “But… where is the nest? And what is it, anyways?”

“We’re in the crypts under the castle,” Pyro says. “And, well…”

Shelby shrugs. “It’s the nest.”

“So vampires are like birds?” Apo asks incredulously. 

Pyro scoffs, “We’re far more sophisticated! We nest in proper luxury, no… no moss, sticks or dirty things.”

“Except all the sticks that are somehow in your hair,” Shelby says, who has indeed found a twig tangled in Apo’s hair. Pyro snorts.

“You still haven’t answered,” Apo butts in. “What’s the nest for? Why do we even have it?”

“Scott said it’s an instinctual thing,” Pyro replies. “A… safe, warm place to rest and care for the brood.”

Apo nods, decidedly not thinking about the word brood. “So like birds, then.”

“No!!” Pyro shouts, while Shelby dissolves into giggles behind Apo.

“It’s–” Pyro puts his face in his hands. “Urgh.”

Apo smirks. They’d never admit it out loud, but… they’ve missed their roommate.

“So,” she continues, propping her chin on her fist. “Instinctual thing. What does that mean?”

“I don’t understand it super well either,” Shelby says. They seem to be done untangling Apo’s hair and is now starting to work braids into it. “I think it’s just like… feelings? That help us navigate the world and stay safe?”

“Like how you instinctually know that touching fire would hurt,” Pyro says, nodding. “We instinctually know that the nest is a safe place. And to listen to our elders, among other things.”

Hmm. Apo’s not very fond of the “listening to their elders” part.

"I'm guessing that's why I haven’t felt the… the undying urge to run away in a while? Or to like. Punch Pyro?"

Pyro laughs, nervously. "Uh— yes, that would be why… and please don't punch me."

“I have plenty of reason to,” Apo says, lifting an eyebrow.

“No, you don’t!” Pyro argues.

“You drank my blood.” Apo snaps.

“You burned down our house,” he retorts.

“Because you were a vampire!”

“Oh, pot calling the kettle black.”

“Well I was still in town,” Apo spits.

“I didn’t ask to be a vampire!” Pyro throws their hands up.

“Neither did I!”

“Scott said otherwise.”

“Oh, Scott can go stick–”

“Guys!” Shelby interrupts, hands tightening in Apo’s hair. “Stop it, please!!”

The pause that follows is tense, drawn out.

Apo breaks it first. “...I’m sorry I burned down our house,” they mutter, not looking at Pyro.

“...I’m sorry I drank your blood,” he says, not looking at her either.

Shelby nods. “Good. Thank you.” They tie off one braid in Apo’s hair and move on to another one. “You can fight more later, but right now is slumber party time.”

Apo nods, as much as she can with Shelby’s fingers still in her hair.

“...I have one question, first,” Pyro mumbles, but their voice is clear as they meet Apo’s gaze again. “...What happened to Truffle?”

Apo gulps.

She doesn’t have to tell them. She has no real reason to, and Apo’s not sure she trusts Pyro enough to tell him! 

But Apo also has no reason not to tell him. Pyro probably thinks Truffle’s dead, and Apo doesn’t feel very good about that. And they don’t have to tell Pyro where Truffle is.

Apo swallows again, not meeting Pyro’s gaze. “...She’s safe.”

Pyro pops up, an excited cry spilling from their throat. “She is?? She’s okay?? Where–”

“She’s safe, and she’s hidden,” Apo says. “Away from town.”

Pyro scoots to sit in front of Apo, catching one of their hands in his. “Where is she? Can I see her?”

Apo looks up at them and flinches, just a bit. “I–”

“Please?” They beg.

They could tell him. They know the exact tree they built Truffle’s shelter next to. She could tell Pyro where it was.

But she doesn’t trust him.

“I’ll think about it,” Apo replies, looking away.

Pyro shrinks back. “...Alright.”

“I’m sorry,” she adds, reflexively.

“No, no, I– I get it,” Pyro says, still clearly disappointed. “...Just as long as she’s okay.”

Apo nods. “She’s okay.”

They smile at her. “Thank you.”

Pyro reaches out and drags the pillow Shelby threw at them earlier closer, flopping to lie back down again. They poke at Shelby, and she’s the one to squawk this time, pausing her braiding to slap at their hand. Pyro laughs.

Apo hums a bit, enjoying the feeling of Shelby’s hands in their hair and Pyro’s warmth at their side. Her head feels clear, and her body doesn’t ache, and it’s the first time since being turned that she doesn’t feel swamped with hunger. The twinge of it has faded to the back of her mind, and it’s blessedly easy to ignore for now.

“Done!”

Apo feels one last little tug on her hair and then Shelby pulls back, inspecting their handiwork. Most of it is still loose around Apo’s shoulders, but she can feel braids twisted in a crown around her head and others hanging at the sides.

"You have really pretty hair, Apo."

Apo blinks a bit and ducks their head. "Th-thanks."

"I'd show you in a mirror, but… uh…"

Oh. Right.

…She's a vampire.

For the first time, Apo doesn't feel so bad about that.

Shelby hums a bit and leans back in, draping her arms around Apo's shoulders and resting her chin next to Apo's ear.

There's no breath coming from the other vampire, which is strange at first. But Apo eventually leans into the hug, throat tight.

It's nice.

She hasn't been hugged like this in a long time. Not since the last time she saw Cherri.

…Cherri.

Oh saints. What is she doing??

Apo tenses up and pulls away from Shelby's embrace, from Pyro's presence at their side. He pushes himself up on an elbow to look at them, and Shelby makes a little confused trilling sound, but Apo barely registers them. They hug their knees to their chest, tears pricking at their eyes.

She's shaking again.

"…Apo?"

The faint brush of a hand on their shoulder. They can't help but flinch away.

"Are you alright?"

They shake their head slightly and scrub at their eyes with the heel of their hand. This isn't right.

"…What's wrong?" The ghost of Shelby's hand at their back again.

Apo screws their eyes shut and sniffles. "I— I have a partner at home, I— I can't—"

"Oh Apo, no, it's okay…"

"But she's— she's waiting for me, this is— this is wrong—"

Shelby hugs her again and doesn't let go when Apo flinches, this time. "And you'll get to see her soon, we promise. It's okay."

Pyro's hand rests on her knee, firm and reassuring. "We're here for you."

Apo chokes on unshed tears. "B-but I don't want her— what if— what she thinks I'm—"

"Hey. Hey, Apo. Look at me." Shelby scoots around to face them and cups their cheeks in her hands, locking her gaze with Apo's. "You're worried your partner's gonna be mad for— for what, cuddling with us?"

Apo sniffles.

"Well, if they got upset with you for something as silly as that, I don't think they'd be a very good partner."

Apo blinks back tears. "W-what, no, no she— Cherri wouldn't, she's the best, she—"

"She loves you a lot, right?"

Apo falters, stutters, she can't do anything but nod. Cherri does love her. She thinks. She hopes.

"Then I think she'd be happy you found a family here."

"Yeah," Pyro adds, thumb rubbing back and forth on Apo's knee. "Family."

Family…

Apo's never really had one of those. The closest thing was probably Cherri, and Cherri's father, and maybe his dogs…

It's been a long time since Apo saw their birth family. Her parents, her siblings… With any hope, she'll never have to see them again.

It’s not like they’d recognize her, anyways.

But this, the coven…

Apo knows families, real ones, are messy. That they bicker and feud and can be chock-full of animosity. But she also knows that families are supposed to be warm and safe, a web of people who you can trust will be there for you.

Which… yeah, makes a pretty good description for the weird mess they found themselves in right now.

They hadn't asked to be a part of this. Hadn't wanted to be. Even now, Apo still half-wants to stand up and leave, reject this facsimile of a family.

"You're a member of this coven, whether you like it or not. And covenmates never abandon one another."

But she has nowhere else to go.

And Shelby and Pyro have been nothing but kind to her, today.

And though Apo hates to admit it, they feel safe curled in this pile of blankets with two of the three total people in the world who could possibly understand what they're going through.

"…not. And covenmates never abandon one another."

She thinks of Martyn, looking at her with disgust. Of Ren, drawing his sword on her. Of Sausage, complaining how they ruined his coat.

They think of how the people who they trusted, who they loved, chased them through the woods with the intent to skewer them through the heart and roast their corpse on a pyre.

"…never abandon each other."

Apo swallows hard, and nods. They want to swipe at their eyes again but Shelby's hands are still holding their face, gentle and soft and cool. "Okay," they whisper.

Shelby beams and bundles her in another hug. Apo lets her eyes drift shut as she nestles into Shelby's pale curls, breathing in their scent.

Paper. Paper and… blueberries?

Pyro grumbles a bit, off to the side, and pushes their way into the hug as well. Apo can't help but smile, a bit.

Woodsmoke and copper.

It feels wrong to call this place home, not when Cherri isn't here. But it's the first time Apo has felt safe since getting to Oakhurst. The first time she's felt loved.

It doesn't match up to curling up in front of a fire with her love, but it's nice.

And as Apo and their fledge-siblings lay down and nestle into the blankets— Pyro pressed against their side, Shelby resting her head on their chest— Apo can't help the thought, just before they drift off to sleep:

Maybe I could get used to this.