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Apo can still taste Martyn’s blood.
The stale flavor sits heavy on her tongue. He’s dead. He gave her blood hours ago, and he was ready to keep feeding her as many times as it took. And then, just because Apo saved his life, he died in Legs’s arms.
Then Ren died. Apo slashed at him, just to get him to stop. They thought he’d come back, like the humans were supposed to here, but Scott sunk his claws in, and then Ren was gone.
They’re dead because of her. There’s no way around it. She didn’t know, she didn’t- How could she have known? But it’s still her fault.
Every joint in Apo’s body feels tight. She’s ready to run, pacing and casting a glance over to the circle standing in town, bracing herself in case anyone goes for her. It could still happen. Most of them tried to kill her a couple hours ago. Why wouldn’t they try again? They know it’s her fault Martyn and Ren are dead, they know she’s at her weakest. They have no reason to let her leave Oakhurst alive.
Apo needs to leave. They need to get out of here. Trapped, alone, weak. Can’t think, can’t act, can’t do anything right, they couldn’t save Oakhurst, they tried, they fucking tried, but it’s not enough.
The flag is still standing. Apo sees her banner design in the distance, and a scream threatens to break out of her throat. It’s a good thing she doesn’t need to breathe anymore, because she can’t do it no matter how hard she tries.
Oh god, they don’t want to go back to that group, but their feet carry them over. They end up between Sausage and Drift, who both want them dead. Be ready to run.
Legs and Cleo are gone. Apo left before she could say goodbye. Martyn and Ren are dead and Apo couldn’t say goodbye and Legs will die and Apo can’t say goodbye-
To be honest, you don't have to do much.
Yeah, you just watch.
Apo swallows the taste of Martyn’s blood down and tries to stop thinking.
As is becoming pretty commonplace, Apo fails. She keeps thinking, and the ringing in her ears gets louder and louder. Everyone’s talking, she’s talking, but she’s hardly hearing herself. Blame, blame, blame, and Apo knows it’s her fault, but she can’t stand to hear it from them. Or the attempts at reassurance. It’s when Scott’s voice cuts in that Apo feels her hands shake.
He doesn’t get to fucking talk to her like that, like he’s able to console her after everything. And then Sausage says that Scott’s redeemed himself, and Apo can’t raise her head and risk them all seeing the look of rage on her face and deciding she’s too dangerous to let live.
Apo hopes Scott dies and rots in hell. She wishes she could tear into his throat with her fangs right now, right in front of Shelby and Drift and the rest of his stupid fucking blood cult and make them all see what he did to her. Tear open his stomach and find her own blood and watch it leave his body forever. And then she could leave as a human, get back to Cherri, and forget the rest of them.
Bloodlust roars with the ringing in Apo’s ears. She needs to kill someone right now. She needs someone to pay, she needs-
Nausea returns the taste of Martyn’s blood to Apo’s mouth, and they choke. God, oh god, they need to get out of here, they hate the way they’re thinking right now, they hate what that fucking man turned them into, this is too much, it’s too much, it’s too much-
Restless. Waiting. They can’t kill anyone. They can’t hurt anyone. They literally can’t. They’re weak, and they’d lose their one chance of getting home, and Cherri would never know what happened to them and she might even come here to investigate and oh god oh god oh god-
Apo needs to fucking do something, they need to get out, they need to do something!
Martyn’s blood in their mouth, and Apo remembers the moment they doomed him. Back when they weren’t enough, when the vampires hurt someone, and it was all Apo could do to move-
It feels like freedom to burst into a swarm of bats. Leave all of them behind to chatter like nothing’s happened. She hardly hears the questioning calls of her name over the roaring in her ears.
Then, just like back then, Apo flies out of town and towards that feeling, that inextricable feeling, that they’d almost let themself forget. Duty.
Have to. Have to. They have to.
Fly. Just go. Move.
It’s not hard to spot the two of them. They’re standing together in an open spot near the castle with a nice view of the sun on the horizon. Apo beats her wings faster.
The sun. It’s not stinging Apo, just prickling her, but he’d be weak to it, and he’s- he’s-
Can’t let him burn. Can't just sit back and let him-
A drop of rain hits Apo’s face. Then another, and then she’s flying in a downpour. The water feels cool on her fur, and strangely enough, it doesn’t impede her flight. Did… She did this, didn’t she? Hardly even thinking about it.
Apo can just barely see the two figures through the rain, and their heads are tilted up in obvious surprise at the storm clouds rolling in.
The word that’s been buried in their throat for hours launches out of them before they’re even sure they’re in earshot.
“Wait!”
Apo slides out of her bat form above the trees and starts to glide down, but she hits a branch and loses the gentle edge to her descent. She slips and tumbles into the quickly muddying dirt, catching herself on her hands and knees.
“Apo?” Legs is at her side in an instant, still the doctor, and Apo is hit with the stench of fresh vampiric blood. There’s something weird about his voice “Are you alright?”
Blinking away the raindrops in her eyes, Apo looks up to find the doctor with the gash on his throat reopened. There’s blood on his claws.
“Jesus!” Apo gags and lurches back. “What- I’m fine, why are you-?”
Legs grimaces and covers his neck with one hand. “I… need to be at my weakest to be staked, and it’s taking some time to… get to that point.” His voice sounds weird because his fucking neck is open, oh my god.
“Go back to town, Apo,” Cleo says. She hasn’t moved from her spot on the cliffside. There’s a stake in her hand.
“No!” It feels natural at this point to disobey Cleo. Apo stares into Doc’s good, red eye. “Doc, you can’t do this.”
It’s not the first time she’s seen him so close. She’d stared into his eye on the roof, and then again before the vampires came into town, and now here. The slashes on his arms, the tears in his clothes, the stains. The deep wound on his throat. The missing eye. Gore and viscera in his teeth and down his chin and all over him.
God, all of this, all of this, and there had still been doubt that Legs didn’t want this. Scott hadn’t left this much of a visible mark on Apo, but even when it was as obvious as what Owen did to Legs, still…
Apo’s stomach churns. Hungry. She needs to get out of here. She needs them to get out of here.
A moment of surprise, before pity and resolve drain Legs’s face. His shoulders slump. “Apo, it’s okay. Just go back to town. It’ll be over soon, and then you can go home.”
Home. Apo wants more than anything to go home, but not when she feels like she’s about to snap in half. Not when she’s a danger to Cherri like this.
“I’m not letting you do this!” Apo takes the hand not blocking Doc’s throat in both of her own. “This wasn’t the plan! It was supposed to be for three cures, not one! You don’t need to die!”
“Yes, I do,” Legs says hollowly. He’s staring at Apo’s hands, rain chipping away at the gore coating his frame. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this. It’s okay, Apo.”
Apo tightens their grip, knuckles turning white. “Don’t fucking tell me it’s okay! I can’t let anyone else die because of me!”
The pity expands in Doc’s expression. And guilt. He was going to die blaming himself. He didn’t know. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault!
“This isn’t about you, Apo,” Cleo states firmly. “This is about Abolish and the Doc.”
Whipping their head wildly from Cleo back to Doc, Apo twists their mouth into a snarl. “Doc killing himself? Fuck that, Doc, you said you didn’t want to stay, not that you wanted to go!”
Cleo sounds a thousand miles away. “That’s the same thing.”
“It’s not!” Apo drops Doc’s hand and takes his face between her hands, and he gasps raspily. “Legs, listen to me! You wouldn’t be saving anyone! Abolish is still alive, and he can go home a vampire! It’d be for nothing! Hell, you’re the one who can get cured and not need to live forever! You can’t die like this! Please, I just need to save someone! Let me save one person!”
A crack in Legs’s face. Something Apo feels mirrored in herself. Recognition.
For a moment, Apo just watches Legs’s pupil twitch in the sclera, expression frozen. They know that face. That hopelessness, that fear, that resolution. The belief in something unwanted.
If it’s not me, it’s someone else.
Then, Apo grits their teeth and tips their forehead against Legs’s, and some sort of horrible, inhuman sound is ripped from Apo’s guts and out their mouth. Rain pours and trails down their face, the thunder echoing in time with their shaking. Cold. Always cold.
There’s the heel of a palm gently pressing against the back of Apo’s head, and she sobs, letting it push her head down to the crook of Legs’s neck. Her hands drop to Legs’s forearms, clawless hands gripping the shredded sleeves of his robes. She feels a chin on her shoulder, arms around her back, mindful of the claws.
“You need to live,” Apo sobs into Legs’s shoulder. “You need to, because I can’t- I can’t- If you can’t, how can I- I can’t- You don’t want this. You didn’t fucking ask for this! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
At some point while they were mumbling, Legs started shaking against Apo. They cling onto him tighter, onto his back, wishing they were somewhere far away. Wishing the cool rain would wash away all the blood and gore and take the vampirism with it.
But Legs can get cured. Right now. He can do it for all of them. He can get cured and live and die on his own terms, not Owen’s.
God, at least he’s dead.
“I’m so sorry he hurt you,” Apo chokes out and keeps rambling, hardly hearing herself. The words feel pulled out of some deep, buried part of her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I- You were alone, weren’t you? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m sorry too,” Legs mutters. “This isn’t your fault, Apo. It’s not your fault.”
“If you were sorry, you’d let me save you.” Apo doesn’t think she’s said this much all day, like behind all the silence this had been growing. “You have to keep living. Because he can’t do this to you. He can’t make you do this. Please. Please, I have to save you. I need to save you. You can’t die here. Not in Oakhurst. Please.”
Trembling fingers in Apo’s hair, running through her white locks, the claws surprisingly welcome against her scalp. Apo might hear a gravelly sob near her shoulder.
Can’t fail again. Can’t let this happen again. Can’t let anyone else die. Apo can go home right now, so no one has to die to make that happen.
God, for the first time in a long time, Apo knows that no one else has to die in order for them to get out of here. The feeling of relief slides down Apo’s spine in unison with the rain hitting their back.
Time becomes as muddy as the ground beneath Apo and Doc’s knees. Apo didn’t think she could still cry this hard. She’s exhausted. She wants to go home. She wants Cherri. She wants to live.
“Legs,” Apo whispers into Legs’s shoulder. “Help.”
Cherri’s waiting. Apo needs to let her know that it’s okay.
After a moment, Legs slowly unravels them. He holds Apo’s arms and arranges both of them to sit upright. Apo grabs his elbows. It feels so good to hold him. To let him and themself know that they’re real. That this is happening, and Apo believes it’s happening.
Legs’s mouth is open slightly, the fangs too big for his mouth. The reopened gash on his throat is all healed up, since it’s been enough time. He blinks slowly, droplets at the sides of his eyes. For once, he’s speechless.
“Doc.” Cleo’s voice breaks out like a crack of thunder, as quiet as they are. Apo forgot they were there. They’re still in their spot. “You’re okay. I can return you to town, and Pearl can cure you. Abolish will understand.”
Apo has never had to push down a weeping thank you so quickly. Somehow, they think saying anything to Cleo will risk her reconsidering. Still, they feel the gratitude twisting their gut.
Every movement from Legs is slow, like he’s waking up. Lethargically, he straightens his shoulders and glances at Cleo.
“...Why?” Legs asks, something undefinable in the short question.
“Because I’m a cruel, selfish monster,” Cleo responds simply. “Now get up.”
There's no room to even bristle at the implications of Cleo's comment, because it doesn't matter what Cleo thinks. What matters is that it's keeping Legs alive. Soon, Apo won't ever clear from Cleo again, so as long as Cleo's agreeing with the change in plans, then Apo won't care about her reasoning.
The moment drags on while Legs thinks. Apo doesn’t know what to do. She has to do something, because if Legs dies after all this, then… God, Apo needs to run.
Legs swallows thickly. There’s a desperation in his eyes. Something clawing and aching and writhing that Apo knows deep to her bones, but it’s restrained. Not for long, though.
As if the words are scooped out of his stomach, Legs whispers, “We can speak to Abolish.”
Can’t spare a moment to be relieved. Go. Move. Before it all goes wrong again.
Apo gets to her feet so quickly that she nearly slips on the mud again. But she helps Legs stand and doesn’t let go of his hand when they start walking in tense silence. Anything could ruin this. Apo won’t let anything take this away from her.
Before long, the rain starts to clear. Apo knows it will come back. And the next time it does, Legs will be alive to feel it again.