Taking shots at communion

Getting drunk off your antidote

I'll save you a seat next to me down below.

-Robert DeLong, "Long Way Down"

"Okay, first you drink from him—"

"I've done it already! Why isn't he waking up all black-eyed yet?"

"—and then he has to drink from you, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that's right. Got so excited 'bout the blood I'd nearly forgotten. So I just…ergh...make a little cut, and then stick my wrist in his mouth like so…"

"He doesn't seem to be drinking."

"Maybe he—"

"He's looking kind of peaky."

"Peaky? He hasn't moved or blinked in ten minutes. That's a bit beyond peaky."

"Think he's dead?"

"You just gotta slap him a bit, Alan. Oi! Come on! Drink up!"

"I told you. He's not going to do it. Mr. Rook would rather die than become a vampire."

"That's what they all say until they're actually dying—Oh! He's coming to! Yes, there you go…have some nice, sweet blood—"

"Oops. He's spit it out."

"Come on—Alan, hold him down—Ow! He bit me! And he's—oh come on! Stop spitting it out!"

"Looks like I win, Crumb. I'll take cash or check."

"HOLD ON ALAN! Be reasonable, Mr. Rook. Being a vampire is fun, honest!"

"You'll never have had so much fun in your life!"

"Think of us as enablers. Enablers for a new world of parties and sex and supernatural powers."

"He's giving you the look."

"I can see that, Alan, thanks."

"You know, I used to be scared of that look when I worked for the department. Made me think he'd shoot me if I so much as came to work with my hair still wet."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. …I really don't think he's going to drink, mate."

"We just need more blood is all. Enough to, like, flush it down him. Sit on him while I go get a knife from the kitchen."

"Hah…you should see the face he's giving me. You wouldn't think he'd be nervous about the knife, given the state of his neck. Okay…hurry up, Crumb, he's making me uncomfortable. Like he's about to bolt. Or break my nose."

"Figure it out, yeah? We've only one sharp knife and I've got to wash it."

"It's okay, Mr. Rook. The knife's not for you, it's for Crumb."

"…you're a traitor…Alan…a bloody traitor…you have betrayed your country, your species, and…by compromising me…you have doomed us all…"

"Don't give me that, Mr. Rook. You became the traitor when you started sacrificing children for your agenda!"

"Hey now, Alan, curb that negativity. This is supposed to be fun! Right, Mr. Rook? Fun! Now hold his mouth open while I slice up my arm."

.

.

.

I'm alone.

I'm cold. I'm sick.

And I'm thirsty.

God, am I thirsty.

.

.

.

I'm in a water closet, I think. It's the only place I can think of to be so cramped and dark with a large porcelain projectile in the center of it.

My hands are tied to the base of this cold, porcelain object. Probably a toilet. I shudder at the smell. It hasn't been cleaned in quite some time.

I pull at the handcuffs. They screech against the porcelain. I try again. And again. And again. But it's no use. The water closet is too narrow to get any leverage or momentum.

.

.

.

There must be another way out.

I hold one of the handcuffs still and try to squeeze out of it. It skins my knuckles. But it's hopeless.

I sit back against the wall and breathe.

.

.

.

I feel sick.

I feel like the Dominic I was has been taken out and replaced with a poor imitation. One that is aggressive and jittery.

I don't like it. I don't like it at all.

.

.

.

The house is quiet. No clues as to where I am. Last thing I remember, Crumb and Alan had attacked me and…I think Crumb had been trying to get me to drink his blood? I'm not quite sure. Things got hazy once they started feeding.

Frankly, I'm amazed they had the restraint to resist killing me. Although they hadn't been particularly tidy or conscientious about their meal, either.

I don't understand why they didn't just finish me off.

.

.

.

I don't think I swallowed any of Crumb's blood, but maybe I did. This thought keeps me busy during my unending occupancy in the water closet.

Did I or didn't I drink in the end? I wish I could remember.

The thought crosses my mind: what if I did drink?

That would make me something I cannot abide. If this is true, if my worst fear has indeed been realized, then I must put an end to myself immediately.

But where would that leave humanity? I am the last person standing between them and total chaos. Can I still be that person, even if the unthinkable has happened?

Surely a compromised savior is better than no savior at all.

.

.

.

Buzzing in my pocket.

They didn't take my mobile? I expected better from Alan.

Pulling closer to the pipes and my handcuffed hands, I contort my body in much stranger shapes than I had previously thought possible in order to reach into my pocket and take out my mobile.

I crouch over the brightly lit screen.

Missed call from Natasha.

I wonder why she is calling, hoping it isn't from another jail cell.

I am loath to bring her into this, but needs must. She's the only person I have left to count on.

I push redial.

.

.

.

"This is Natasha. Sorry you missed me. Leave a message and I'll try to call you back."

"Tasha, I need to talk to you immediately. Call me back."

.

.

.

"This is Natasha. Sorry you missed me. Leave a message and I'll try to call you back."

"Tasha, this is a matter of grave importance. I need to talk to you. You just called me two bloody minutes ago. Call. Me. Back."

.

.

.

"This is Natasha. Sorry you missed me. Leave a message and I'll try to call you back."

"Fine, Tasha. Fine. If you won't return my call, please at least track my mobile and send someone else. I'm in a spot of trouble and I could use some backup."

.

.

.

Two rings. Three. I roll my eyes, seeing where this is going. I have half a mind to leave obscenities on her voicemail—

"Hello?"

"Tasha." I breathe in relief. Then I get hold of myself. "I have been captured by Crumb and Alan."

"Really?" I hear her snicker. "Off your game are you?"

"Certainly not." I am not in the mood for this. I swallow my nausea. "I suspect I'm in their flat. Don't come here yourself. Listen carefully. I need you to—"

BEEP—BEEP—BEEP

I look down at the screen which shows a red battery before shutting off.

I push the power button once. Twice. Three times. Until it's less about turning it on and more about damaging it.

I throw it and it falls feebly to the floor. I kick it into the other wall.

.

.

.

A knock. Two. Then a "We're comin' in!"

The scrape of a chair being removed, then the door is opened and the light is turned on.

I squint because I have gotten so used to the dark. Standing in the light are Crumb and Alan.

"How ya feeling?" asks Crumb as if it's routine.

I keep my mouth shut and assess the situation.

"Sorry for the rough treatment," says Alan, "but we didn't want you causing trouble."

Questions barrel through my head but I ask none, except for the only one that's important.

"What do you want from me?"

Alan and Crumb look at each other like this whole situation is a joke. I fail to see the humor in it.

Crumb shrugs. "From you, from Alan… I don't really want anything, Dom."

I twinge at that ghastly nickname.

Crumb crouches to my level. I resist the urge to scoot further underneath the toilet.

"It's like having kids, yeah? What makes people want to have kids? I don't know personally, and I'd bet my teeth you don't either, but I imagine it has something to do with leaving a legacy. Making your boot print bigger."

He leans forward; I remain motionless and watch his eyes carefully.

"That's what I'm doing, Rook. Making my family bigger."

"It's fun as well," Alan chimes in. "Having mates to hang out with."

"Sure is," Crumb agrees, smiling back at him.

I clench my jaw. I am so thirsty I think I might pass out. I am so angry I want to tear their heads off.

I swallow instead. "So let me see if I understand you correctly. The only reason you are doing this is to expand your friend group—"

"Nah it's not just—"

"—and out of the hundreds of people in your collective pools of acquaintances, you chose…me."

They look at each other again. Maybe a bit sheepishly, but it's hard to tell.

"Well, you, Mr. Rook, were actually more of an experiment," explains Alan.

I blink once. "Experiment?"

"Yeah, um," Crumb gets to his feet. "we wondered what you'd be like if you were a vampire. And if you would even let us do it. And there was no small amount of revenge in there, as well, if we're honest."

The panic is creeping in but I force my face to stay serene. "And did I?"

Alan shrugs. "We think so? You're covered in so much human blood it's hard to tell, but we think so."

Yeah, I—

—I thought so, too.

In fact, I knew it.

A/N: The style of this short story was inspired by the marvelously talented Ellis, who writes on Archive Of Our Own.

The title is from "Long Way Down" by Robert DeLong. Great song.

I adapted this story towards becoming part of a longer, original work on my wordpress blog, protagonized. So if you feel like you've read this before, you probably have. :)

Anyway, enough of all that. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it!