Chapter Text
They were all dead. Owen made sure of it.
He slaughtered every single one of those dirty, pathetic humans with his bare hands and he was proud. They deserved it for what they did. The baker who sold him nothing but overpriced stale bread, the priest who called him cursed, the people who looked at him like he was a stain on the earth, like he was a disgusting insect not worthy of sharing a planet with.
They deserved it for what they did to Louis, for taking him away from Owen just before they had each other. It was supposed to be perfect. They were going to be together and happy but now all he could feel was an agonizing mix of sorrow and hatred.
Louis was dead and there was no way to fix it, nothing he could say or do to bring him back.
He cursed the being that did this to him. That made him sick, that let him starve, that gave him hope…hope that this would all change, that he could be happy, that he wouldn’t be hurt, afraid ,or alone anymore.
The curses did nothing but fuel the hatred burning in his chest. Letting the flame grow so bright that it burnt him out leaving a tired husk slumped on the ground. Not asleep but not quite awake, just… alive. Watching as the stars burned above.
—
The world seemed to move on without him. The days still passed, wind still blew, crickets still sung in the dark. How could everything just move on like nothing happened!? Like everything was normal— He isn't here! Why can't everything seem to realize that? Louis, his sire, his lover, his everything was gone.
Broken sobs escaped his throat. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong. Why was he the only one who saw it. Bloody tears stained his hands. Crying would drain his blood faster but stopping the sobs felt impossible.
The tears eventually dried but it felt as if they took what was left of his little energy with them. There was no more of that burning hatred but now a quiet grief that made all his limbs ache with exhaustion.
However, the feeling of hunger still remained. no that word wasn’t strong enough for what he felt. His stomach was trying to cave in on itself, trying to cannibalize the body it inhabited. His throat was dry and rough from all the crying. His body craved for something to sate his hunger.
He needed blood.
He slowly walked to the village relying on bloodied oak trees to support himself.
On the ground were the mangled corpses of those who tried to flee.It seems that the animals got to their bodies before he could. Maggots ate at the rotten flesh still clinging to their bodies. How stupid of them to think they could run from him, they brought this upon themselves.
When the air filled with the scent of rotten blood and smoke he knew he was getting close.
Surely one of the bodies there had something for him to eat.
The great walls of Oakhurst were no longer mighty, now burnt black and brittle.
It wouldn’t take much for him to destroy what's left of them. To take away the last few remains of the savages who lived here. Though ache in his stomach says otherwise. Like he's going to die if he doesn’t eat anything now, so his plans of ruining the already destroyed town would have to wait until he’s acquired food.
The town held no signs of life. Corpses littered the streets everywhere, none of them seeming to have any blood to spare. How selfish of them.He didn’t need to rely on the rotten bodies of the townsfolk anyway. He craved something more, something living, breathing, fighting.
—
They didn’t stand a chance, it was almost pathetic the way they tried to run when they discovered what he truly was. They put up a fight too, kicked their legs, tried to bite— to scream, it was all music to his ears, but alas good times must come to an end. The small herd of cows did much to soothe his thirst, though not as much as those humans. Maybe they were just meant to be livestock; it suits them well enough. He wouldn’t have left any of them alive anyways.
His main problem for now was solved. He was sated, his body was warm from the blood flowing through it and his head was no longer screaming at him for blood.
Nothing was screaming anymore…
Everything was so quiet it was almost unsettling. The enhanced hearing that vampirism gifted him usually allowed him to hear every rustle of leaves as the wind blew or any birds lurking in trees.
But at that moment the world was utterly silent.
It was then he realized that he had nothing to do, nothing to live for. The only person who's ever loved him is dead and the only place he's ever known was destroyed by his hands.
Maybe he should just die. That way he’d at least be with louis in hell. Oh how great it would be beside his louis while their flesh melts in the burning flames of the underworld, their skin melting into each other’s as they gift each other sweet words and kind kisses to soothe the pain.Just imagining it makes him hold his face and twirl around giddily like a young maiden.
But, before he dies. He yearns to go back to the manor on that hill one last time. The place where this all began.
he let his feet drag him through the forest he once called home past the lake he would detest for showing his reflection.
Ironic isn’t it? He had no reflection to stare hatefully at anymore.
The lake was murky with dirt and dead plants. He’d had to drink from it because he couldn’t afford clean water. It was a miracle the water didn't kill him before his illness did.
In the distance he saw the familiar path through a thicket of trees. He was getting closer.
Soon he reached the place he yearned for. The house of his sire, their house.
The house they were supposed to be happy in, the house where they were supposed to spend eternity together was now nothing but an empty shell of what it once was
The warm hallways that bled the feeling of safety and comfort were now cold and messy like a storm ran through and destroyed everything in its path.
He walked past broken picture frames and torn apart paintings,he knew where he had to go.
—
He made his way to Louise's room. It seemed almost untouched by all the madness outside…almost normal. The thought made Owens dead heart ache, this could’ve been normal, they could have been together and happy and…and—
There was no point in thinking about it now, he was gone forever but he didn't want to let go. Owen walked to the pristine bed in the middle of the room, their nest. It had a ridiculous amount of pillows of all shapes, sizes and textures. There were many blankets too among other things like a few of Louis’ clothes and… An animal pelt that Owen gifted to Louis when they first started meeting.
He remembered it fondly. Louis insisted that Owen take it for himself saying he probably needed more.But he wanted to pay back Louis for his kindness and made it abundantly clear. Louis looked happy with it. The fur was white matching his ivory hair that he always tied back.
He was hesitant to lay on the bed. He was dirty with blood and grime from his massacre and it felt wrong to ruin the nest.It belonged to Louis but he wasn’t here any more…
With careful concentration Owen slipped out of his boots and slowly laid down, trying his hardest not to move the meticulous places of the pillows.
The bed was soft when he laid on it. The pillows smelled of tea and old books. Just like Louis. He buried his head deeper in them to get more of his sires' smell as if to pretend he was still here for a moment before having to face the cruel reality.
The scent of his sire in such a safe place was comforting and without meaning he drifted off to sleep. Unaware of the monster that still lurked near Oakhurst.