Chapter Text
Owen believed Oakhurst to be holy ground even before a single beacon had been consecrated. He believed in very, very little, but this was more fact than anything. The walls of Oakhurst, even in ruin, were guarding the grave of an angel. And something unholy like him was never supposed to set foot in a place like that again.
But hunger can drive even a dead man to his feet. It can force a courteous smile to his face and an array of greetings from his throat for each of the human strangers he mingled with. Sheep, all of them. Their voices felt just as the bleats of livestock felt to his ears, but it was tolerable enough so long as he remembered the reason they were here was one that benefited him.
A centuries awaited slaughter. It's what humans deserved, naturally.
Especially that one.
A lamb with his head and hooves on backwards, his bleats so obnoxious it was a wonder Owen could not smell iron in the air from everyone's ears bleeding. And if that weren't a punishable by dismemberment worthy offence already, Owen had to bite his tongue as this person declared his deep-seated hostility towards vampires. Blabbing about how to slay them, their weakness, their bloodthirst. That kind of talk could be a virus among the herd if caution were put aside.
No, that one… That one needed to be culled soon. And Owen let his shoulders rest as his plan took off with his target, right into the woods. Owen could get himself a meal no one would even miss.
-
Scott Goldsmith awoke from his slumber hungry. Six centuries of involuntary sleep would do that too you, but especially Scott, with his insatiable bloodlust that only grew over years.
(Honestly, right before he was put to rest for just under a millenia, he thought he might have been dying. After, when he woke up, he was pleasantly surprised to find he was still in Oakhurst, and most importantly, alive. He would stay like that; alive, he promised himself. No more almost dying.)
Thought it didn't show on his face in front of the townspeople—he would never lower himself to outward desperation—he'd do anything for a good, human meal. And that man who's been blabbering about vampires just went into the forest, alone.
An easy target.
And though Scott didn't usually take easy targets—he much preferred something more entertaining than that, someone who could put up a fight, maybe—he didn't have the time nor patience to care about anything but his next meal.
Plus, Avid was annoying at best, and a risk to his cover at worst. Not many in the town even liked him, finding his talk of vampires illogical and insane. If anything, Avid was a perfect next meal, within his current… dire circumstances, at least.
So Scott would stalk him into the forest, until he was far enough away to make his presence known when Avid was unable to cry, "Vampire!"
-
Avid was scared. He always was, really, but especially since what happened with Elle. Anyone could be a vampire. Anyone could hurt you. Even if they didn't mean it.
And Avid knew even he could be the perpetrator of such hurt. He knew he already had hurt people. He accused Scott of murdering Shelby, and that enough was causing hurt, even if he hadn't meant it.
But none of that was the reason he went out into the woods alone "to turn a beacon".
It was the bite mark on his neck.
That bite mark, he'd gotten when he was only seven. Elle dragged him home with blood drenching them both, and since then, they'd searched for a cure to the everlasting bloodlust that bubbled up due to the wound that wouldn't heal.
The wound was acting up, today, and Avid vowed that if it acted up enough to give him a reaction like Elle, he would not be in range to let anyone get hurt because of him.
And he needed to be useful. So he was at a beacon, the most enclosed one; the crypt.
Avid sat by it in the corner, waiting for white to bleed into orange while he debated the best type of cage to make for himself. Wood? too easily broken. Silver? Well, that could work, if only he had enough time to–
"Oh! Avid," the word was dragged out, "Fancy seeing you here."
Avid startled, turning to see it was Scott Goldsmith and startling again. "Aghk! What are you doing here?!"
Scott frowned and put on an innocent expression, the absolute closest he'd get to pouting. "I was just going to turn the beacon, Avid." He walked up nearer Avid, but not quite in range of the beacon, his heels softly clicking, "It's quite a small place, you know, it's not unlikely we'd run into each other here."
A shiver went down Avid's spine, but he nodded. "I guess so…" He moved over to give Scott space, but Scott merely stood on the other side of the beacon. "Hey, uh, y'know, I really am sorry for the other day."
"What, when you accused me of murder?" Scott raised an eyebrow. "It's whatever. I don't mind all that much." Scott smiled, but there was a glimmer of intention in his eyes he didn't smile with; intention of something that would leave Avid's lungs full of lakewater and his skin gray from bloodloss.
Avid sighed of relief, and around a third of the tension in his body released with it. "Thanks, I really thought I'd messed up for good."
Scott laughed, rolling his eyes. "People have accused me of worse."
"People have accused you of worse?" Avid parroted.
"When you have a lot of money… People get jealous. They think if they spread enough rumors they can get you hanged and take your fortune for themselves," Scott sighed.
Avid furrowed his brows in slight worry. "What did you do to them?"
Scott smirked slyly, leaning in close across the beacon. "I killed them," he said.
Avid bounced back, his whole body tensing in fear. "Wh-What?!"
"I'm joking!" Scott leaned back to where he was before. "I got them killed!" He assumed Avid's sudden terror was due to his presence, only because his vampiric night vision distracted him from the disappearance of sunlight. It was only when he followed the horrified man's gaze that he found the wall of cobblestone looming where their exit used to be.
That lumberjack from town had given off some odd and anti-social behaviors, of course. But neither Scott nor Avid thought someone so… cute looking could appear before them with such enmity in his glare and in the force with which he gripped his axe.
Scott was surprised, but he didn't show as much on his face. "Oh. Owen. Hello," he said blandly, as if the situation wasn't highly suspicious. An enclosed space with two humans… Well, Scott certainly wouldn't mind two meals.
"Let's skip chit-chat, Goldsmith," Owen gave him just as dry of a response, debating whether his qualms stretched over to Avid's company. Oh well, two heads cleaved with one axe was a more than easy task.
Avid looked between the two about five times with wide eyes. "Wh-What is happening?" He expected to be alone here, and his face winced with fear of what might come. What he might become. He didn't know what was happening—with him or with the two men in the room with him.
"Turning a beacon, I see?" Owen did not move like a man. He stalked, he crept closer to the unintentional pair, he spoke less with courtesy and more with a voice that was mimicking something human. And he was glad Avid heard it too.
Scott looked at Owen and then Avid, analyzing the situation. "Yes, Avid and I were chatting while waiting for the beacon to turn. Here to join us?" He stared at Owen, keeping a blank expression.
"The beacons are a fruitless endeavor. Your people will see that soon enough," He did not intend to mutter, but even his cheeriest laugh came out as such.
Scott sighed as he got up. Avid followed him shortly after, shakily so. "Mhm. Now, pray tell, why the…" he did a motion with his hand, "the patching up the wall, the axe, the dramatics? I mean, I can respect some drama with it, but…" his face was of slight disgust, "Like that, I mean…?"
"Bite thy tongue, Goldsmith. You should enjoy your last minutes of life," Owen made his final steps towards Avid, raising his axe beneath the chin of his lamb to be slaughtered. "To dull my axe with your neck is really a waste of blood, but to lower myself to see a sniveling, white-livered coward as a meal any better than a hen wouldn't be worth an ounce of your flesh and blood, Avid. You, and everything you represent will feel the pain of every tooth and claw you have ripped out of those you claim monstrous. I hope you didn't waste your breath on all that shrieking in town, because I want your screams to carry across this whole forest. I want you to be remembered only by how fucking insufferable your shrill squeaking rants were-"
Owen was cut off by Scott's snickering. "Oh, how cute. Your little monologue is getting quite boring, though; I really don't find it in me to care right now," Scott said. "And anyways, this one is mine."
"Excuse me?"
"Huh?!" Avid cheeped in the corner, shaking and scared as his eyes darted to Owen, Scott, the beacon, the covered up entrance, and all across the room.
"If your vile souls must remain together, I'll bury you as lovers. But you still die here and now," Owen drew back his axe in anticipation to cut those squealing vocal cords once and for all.
"Pfft–" Scott laughed, "No, silly, I meant, to eat."
Avid's face quickly grew in horror as he realized he was in the room with two people who wanted to kill him– no, two vampires.
His worst fear.
He lowered his axe unexpectedly. "Eat?? Like-" Owen curled two fingers over his lips, mimicking the fangs he quite literally possessed. "Like???"
Scott smiled pitifully at him. "Yes, Owen, like that. I was planning on biting him. Drinking his blood. Feeding. Whatever term you may prefer."
"What?" Avid shakily squeaked out.
"Well then… the more who want Avid dead, the merrier I suppose," Owen paused. "But uhm.. since I cornered him here and have him at axe-point anyways.." He cast aside his axe, kneeling close to Avid. Owen could feel anger igniting his veins, like proximity to a human played the role of gasoline to his fury, but until his thirst was quenched… "The first bite should be mine."
Scott stared at him a while, debating on letting him.
"Why are you two discussing who's going to kill me?! I'm literally right he–" Avid exclaimed, getting cut off.
"Shh, Avid," Scott said, keeping eye contact with Owen, staring down at him for a little while longer before sighing. "Fine. You got to him first; you earned it, I suppose." He backed up a step, "Go ahead."
Owen wasted not a moment of time. He tore the clothes off Avid's shoulder, down to supple, human skin. Flesh so alien and appitizing in the same glance. By now, Owen could not care less if the blood came from a depraved thing like Avid, because any crimson breaking his 200 year long fast was invaluable as gold. Owen bared his fangs to Avid before biting, wishing to see the fear in his eyes first. He wanted to feel and see the exact moment Avid's heart lurched from adrenaline.
Avid's breaths quickened into hyperventilation in less than a second when the vampire bared his teeth. So it was real. So he was right. He was finally right. But at what cost? His life?
Though he supposed it may be natural, given all the hurt he's caused. Maybe he brought this all upon himself, constantly screeching about vampires. Maybe he put a target on his back, and maybe he deserved this.
He still wanted to live, though. And desperately so. So fear surged through his veins as he watched the anger in Owen's eyes, and the discontent in Scott's, and the beacon he now realized was turning orange suspiciously slower than it was supposed to with two people, and the cobblestone covering the entrance, and he couldn't escape, he couldn't do anything—he was even too frozen from fear to grab the stake on his chest when he had the one moment to do so.
Owen snagged Avid's shoulder with his fangs and knew how painful the bite had been. He felt his fangs tear through tissue he knew would cause agony. His meal struggled in last minute desperation but the vampire's powerful grip kept him still, Avid's hands pinned to the floor by Owen's.
And after another cruel tug of his pointed teeth, fresh blood spilled like a sweet river trickle. The warmth that hit his tongue and throat was a luxury he had not properly indulged in for centuries, sending such a relief through his body that he was glad to ignore how the aftertaste stang. Owen drank like a noble offered pricey wine.
Though to an actual noble like Scott, Owen drank like a horse from a trough.
Avid squirmed and flailed as Owen drank him, trying to get out of his grip and failing all the same. He kicked and lurched, but it only really made the pain of jagged fangs in his shoulder worse, pulling all the blood from his body like it wasn't even his own, but belonged to Owen.
If he cried, it was only tears that pricked his eyes and dare not fall. Even then, the origin of them was not from pain—but from pure fear. Avid was going to die, and he was going to die for real this time.
No bouncing back.
No staking who was trying to kill him.
He was going to die.
And Owen smile for the first time in centuries knowing this fact. He smiled against Avid's shoulder as he drew long, distasteful gulps of his blood from the vein, letting the taste burn his tongue because above all pain, Avid's blood brought life back to Owen's stiff, creaky, undead body. It was a fraction of that relief Owen remembered from 200 years ago.
And in opposition of Avid's humanity —that even he seemed unaware was infuriating to his own kind — Owen would remove all comfort from his final moments alive. He would bite with anger, he would prick his claws into his prey's wrists. And he would drain every ounce of blood this pathetic man had to offer.
At first, Owen felt Scott's eyes on him, but with every sip Owen fell deeper into his own mind and body, ignited with gratification, greed, and the closest thing to life something like him could feel.
Scott tapped his foot, his loafers clicking on the ground. "Owen…" he said impatiently, watching him drink Avid dry. "Owen!" he grabbed his shoulder, but Owen gently shrugged it off, and somehow, Scott didn't find it within himself to try and yank him back. "Jesus Christ," he leaned backwards onto a wall, and stood and watched Avid die not by his own fangs.
He figured he could give this one over. It was an easy find, anyways. He supposed he'd just have to find another target.
Avid's body turned cold and gray, just as Owen wanted to see. He leaned into Owen's arms, not from anything resembling comfort, but because he physically could not keep himself upright anymore. It was exhausting to even blink, to struggle, to draw his next breath…
The moment his fangs were unhooked, Owen let the body drop to the floor. He did not stand immediately, half to revel in the heat of blood running through his body, half for hesitation to hear what Scott would say next.
Regardless. Avid was dead, and Owen did get a pathetic meal out of the lamb after all. He procrastinated facing his next problem by riding the high that was his 2800th slaughtered man.
"Someone was hungry. Done with your drink, finally?" Scott said, annoyed. Owen would stay facing the wall, simply wiping his mouth with his sleeve, further delaying the consequences of his actions.
"Mh hm," Owen made a sound caught between a mutter and a purr. He stared down at his victim for as long as he could bear, picking up his axe with his eyes still caught longingly on the bite mark. Even a full meal could not satisfy him fully, especially when Owen had hungered for Avid's suffering so intensely before he…
Again, his satisfaction helped him stave off bloodthirst. For a moment, the room felt calm, a feeling only spurred when Avid no longer drew breath. Dare he thinks it for a moment, Owen was 'happy' with himself. And he could easily assume speaking with Scott would be a complete bane on that happiness.
-
The world stirred for Avid.
It blurred with the pain and faded out into nothing, and for a moment, he was at a place between life and death. Limbo. But a voice told him it wasn't quite time yet, and he was back in darkness, a cold feeling enveloping him.
Cautiously and slowly, his eyes opened, and a single breath left his lips. The world was still blurry, but he could see the vague colors of Owen and Scott talking just past the beacon. Scott's arms were crossed, and Owen seemed as if he was shrugging off whatever Scott was saying, barely listening. As his vison cleared, he watched Scott stop talking and his gaze fixate on Avid, and Owen traced it, looking at Avid with wide eyes. Owen seemed to mouth something of a curse, and Scott sighed, eyeing him.
Avid wasn't completely sure why they were having these reactions. He wasn't even sure why he was there, in the first place, or what had happened for him to end up like this. He must've passed out, and Scott and Owen found him–
No. Avid died. By Owen's hand. And now he was alive again.
Which, arguably, was a much worse fate.