Title: The Death & Second Life of Rory Gilmore
Author: Nate
Pairing: Paris/Rory, third person POV
Spoilers: An alternate view of season three around Halloween, discounting most of what happened within it. Rory is 18, Paris is 17.
Rating: Hard R (violence, profanity sexual situations, vampirism, light blood play, character death)
Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls is the property of Amy-Sherman Palladino/Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, Hofflund-Polone and Warner Bros. Television. All other products and trademarks are the property of their respective owners.
Archiving: Ralst, ff•net, my personal LiveJournal. Anyone else, ask first.
Summary: When Paris discovers that Rory is much different than what she seems, it is up to her to show that her love for her classmate is stronger than the forces guiding her towards evil.
Author's Notes: Bah, so I wanted to finish this and post it on Halloween. Since it has passed, I must post it on...Day of the Dead, so I guess it still works out somehow in the grand scheme of things. But I guess I'm thankful my free hour of Standard Time was spent writing this.
This is probably my darkest fic ever and I was surprised by how it developed. I didn't know it would take the dark direction it did in the end, and for the fans of who I mention at the end, I do apologize and state that my portrayal of them here is only for the purposes of the story and not how I actually feel about them. If you feel offended by character death I would suggest that you not read this. It's a story that deals with mature themes and I must warn you that this Prory is dark and not at all my usually positive portrayal of the girls. But if you're looking for a nice dark fic to curl up and read with a spin of femslash, you'll love this one.
As always, I give thanks to my beta and friend Danielle for inspiring me to write this piece. She wrote quite a nice DWP piece herself where Andy and Miranda get a little dark, and I suggest you read it on her fic community, ubiquitousmuse on LiveJournal.
Paris always knew there was something suspicious about Rory Gilmore and how she came to Chilton.
For instance there were always rumors about the Gilmore lineage, that a portion of the family tree had a branch from Slavic countries. The family always made the claim of pure Saxony blood, but Paris knew that Englishwomen never had skin so pale and white. Nor could she ever believe that the intercontinental wealth of the Gilmores was just a result of the insurance business.
She had been researching the family since she first laid eyes on Rory. Many evenings in the library pouring over genealogy records and newspapers dating back to the late 1700's. No one knew about her side project. She was able to hide it well deep within multiple folders of her Mac.
It had taken her just over two years to crack the secret the family had been hiding for years. It at first seemed impossible to her that the conclusion she came up with was true. It was scientifically and fictionally impossible for her studies to result in the conclusion.
But it was ironclad. Going over the results with a professor of mythology at Yale who hid her belief in the supernatural within her studies, Paris read the conclusions.
Lorelai and Rory drank massive amounts of coffee. They were both heavy carnivores.
Emily would not admit having the same traits, but indeed she was also a fiend for caffeine and red meat.
However the one link that had been missing for years was that nobody ever knew Emily Gilmore's true age or birthplace. She had said Basking Ridge, New Jersey to satisfy Richard's curiosity, and her birthday was celebrated traditionally on April 17.
But the year remained missing.
As did any state or federal records of an Emily Rochelle Gilmore being born in the state of New Jersey. Records from New York, Connecticut and Pennsylvania also proved inconclusive.
There were also patterns she noticed in Rory's behavior. Her anger came out in long lash-outs rather than in normal fights or arguments. The same pattern seemed to apply to Emily.
But oddly, Lorelai remained forever calm.
She also looked at their line of lovers. Both Lorelai and Rory remained distant to men, never moving towards a long and fulfilling relationship. Emily was a one-man woman and it was clear by Richard's subservience to her that he had never left her side.
The matter that Lorelai was an only child. Rory was the same.
Her eyes were a shade of blue unknown to any type of classification. Lorelai's were in the same realm.
The older Gilmore daughter however aged normally. Emily had aged very slowly for a woman of near sixty. What to make of Rory.
But the one thing that was troubling to her were the final two traditional aspects of where her conclusions left her. Her research should have led her somewhere else or push off those hypotheses to the side. She could've given up right there.
Soon though, she had adjusted her thinking to open up those avenues of possibilities. It took her a little longer to find irrefutable proof of what she thought. It also took a trip to Bulgaria and Bucharest under the cover of summer study which led her to figure out that there was more to everything than she thought.
The supernatural had influenced her thinking. What she previously thought was hokum became real-life science to her as the ancestors of Emily, the Oreshovskis of northern Bulgaria's family history unraveled before her. In three days the oral historian of the town showed her how the history of the Mayflower-bound Gilmores had eventually merged with the Oreshovski clan, which had ancestors come via Ellis Island in the 1890's after many years of rule within the small enclave through what many thought was force.
But in the hidden histories of the area, was through pure fear. No one would dare betray them, and the researcher warned Paris of the mortal danger she would put herself in if she was to reveal her findings. "Never mind your being put in an institution for revealing this and risking a libel lawsuit," they dared. "You will rip open a hole across Europe and North America that could imperil all who live. Especially in Hartford."
"In Hartford?"
"You wonder why the Oreshovskis managed to claw their way into that deeply ingrained high society in only ten years? Your answer is within the study of their sphere of influence."
More sleepless summer nights spent in her bedroom, going over all she had found out. She gave almost $5,000 to the Courant's web editor so she could have unfettered access to the entire archive of the newspaper online without the pesky $5 a pop fees they charged per article. Slowly she began to put the pieces together. The evidence, both in textual and photographic forms became clear. Going by her European research she found threads, along with notices of what had occurred around the time of Lorelai and Rory's individual births.
There was also an odd thread of doubt about the love lives of all three. Of their singular partners. And of how around 1963 there was a sudden incidence of mass violence that remained unsolved in the Hartford Hills. None of it ever went towards females, instead all men who had their corpses dealt with in various manners which hid all traces of fingerprints and evidence of the actual crimes occurring. It all seemed so strange, all coincidental.
Not to mention the distance Christopher Hayden had put between him and Lorelai after Rory's birth. Paris knew from experience that usually marriages in Hartford society after illegitimate conceptions was par for the course. It was very rare for any Hartford man to give up marrying his beloved.
It was incredibly unusual for said man to put 3,000 miles of distance between them afterward.
Plus there was the small matter that her letters to Tristan in North Carolina had never been answered since at least June, when Rory begged out of the Washington trip because of her and Paris's existing animosity. Which was odd considering they were getting along perfectly.
A check in early October of Tristan's military school revealed that he had not returned for the fall session. Mr. DuGrey had only told Paris he had moved 'elsewhere' distant.
The way he said elsewhere was suspicious. Tristan, ever the troublemaker would not run away from a situation. She knew her friend. And the behavior that he would leave military school was unusual.
But then everything came together in mid-October. A call one night on her cell. She couldn't trace the number any further because the number was not at all in the traditional American format.
"Hello?"
"Paris?"
She couldn't understand the voice. "How did you get this number?"
"There's something...(crackle)...about Gil(crackle)re. She's...abnorm--otherworl--danger--"
The line cut out after that and a call back revealed the number to be disconnected. But Paris could trace the voice anywhere.
"Tristan?" she said before the line cut out. "Hello? Hello?" The line went dark, but her suspicions lit up. A *69 retrace didn't lead to the originating point of the call.
She had to finish her research and reveal it soon. Not for a grade, not for personal glory.
For the safety of Hartford. If she didn't stop what was to happen there would be no telling what would happen.
The trap was set. Hurriedly she organized the party of the year for Halloween night for the Manor and the edifice's famous indoor pool. It was out-of -character, surprising to everyone that she would dare to throw such a thing. She knew that she might setting herself up to be sacrificed upon the altar.
But she was prepared to lay her life out to save others. She would warn them all and keep Rory out, not for spite, but to make sure that the only other soul she could confide in might be able to stop her.
Madeline had not believed Paris at first. But having the royal blood of a long-passed German duchy she knew what could happen if Paris's theory turned out correct. The girls had commiserated in the days before to lay out their plans, Madeline able to offer up her own family history in order to give Paris clarity about what would happen if she could not stop the plans.
"Our bloodline broke into two," she told her. "The Langdorf Dynasty ended with an overthrow in the 1700's by their hand. I am lucky nobody ever found out I am of royal blood. I can repel, but otherwise unless you can defeat her, our entire community is threatened. She has turned eighteen. It was only because of Christopher that we didn't have to fight something off earlier."
So Madeline and Rory were put together for a project. Paris was free to hold her party where she could warn all of the incoming danger. It would have worked perfectly.
However, Louise ended up being the betrayer to the entire plan. It had been unknown, but the blonde had a vendetta against Paris for years because she rejected a project of hers in ninth grade. She swore her revenge, and that it would be to embarrass Paris at the largest opportunity she could ever think of.
An hour into the party, Paris learned from Madeline that Rory had never shown up for the project.
A half-hour later, Rory appeared at the door, anger burning in her eyes as she began to piece together that Paris might know. Just before Paris could warn everyone of the danger, she found herself alone in the upper study upstairs, convinced by Louise that 'everything is fine here'.
Louise knew all was not well. For at that moment she was a willing conspirator within the complex plan to undo Hartford high society.
At Rory's birthday party weeks before, she had been fed on, the grandmother of her friend backing her into the dollhouse and telling her that she was now her slave. Beneath her blouse she still carried the mark that had marked her entrance into eternal life and the service of the Oreshovskis.
She knew Paris's plans. Soon she would deal with Madeline personally. But for the time being, her hostess would end it all via her granddaughter.
Pushed against a case of books Paris felt the fear pump through her heart. Her body stilled as she realized that her entire plan would be for naught, and that soon she would not find herself a savior, but a slave.
"How...how the fuck do you stay out in the sunlight?" she gasped, as the pale brunette carefully circled her prey. "I thought...I thought you needed...blood and darkness to live."
Rory shook her head, her voice remaining as sweet as it usually was. "All a myth. A silly little childhood story that Joss Whedon thinks is true, but is total bullshit. Our genetic material is able to block every effect of sun light upon our bodies. We live as if we're a void in ourselves. We are human, but we are also alien. Like a mutation, only with a bloodline that goes thousands of years and with influence in every sphere in society. Every religion, all castes. From the slums of Sao Paulo to Notting Hill, we're everywhere, acting normal."
"But...but..." Paris figured she had nothing to lose, seeing as her life was on a thin tether. She needed to know how exactly Rory could continue to live. "You act normal. You are normal. How do you live? I don't understand."
Rory smiled at her evilly, the sight of Paris in her alluring costume of Marie Curie in a lab coat and her hair done up tightly in curls. "There's something about being one of the heads of the Valley Red Cross that helps you receive fringe benefits." As Rory spoke, Paris fumbled in her coat for a test tube. "Nobody ever can inventory the blood if a great aunt is one of those helping to count the bags. If you're missing about fifty bags a week, ten of which go to me, nobody will complain."
"So Emily puts the health of anyone needing blood above her need to feed?" Paris shook her head. "You're cracked, Gilmore!" She found the vial and held it tightly in her hand, working the stopper off carefully. "So I suppose you killed Tristan. You fed off him."
"Tristan? I have no idea what you're talking about!" Rory panicked. "I didn't even know he was out of military school."
"He never got back to Carolina."
"Oh God. You think I fed off him?" She snarled. "After I rejected him before my seventeenth birthday many times? I don't want him to be my first victim. Certainly not." She moved closer, a smirk on her face. "However, that honor has been reserved for you already, Miss Gellar. Your blood, I have thirsted for since I first laid eyes upon you. Adding you to our lineage would be delicious and I'm sure..."
With that Paris lifted the tube from her pocket and then aimed the stream coming out of it towards Rory's face in a hope that it would end it all. It was a perfect hit and there was no way Rory was going to come out of it unaffected.
Except...
Nothing happened. However Rory was angrier with Paris. Batting the water out of her eyes with her fingers she shook her head.
"Really, Gellar? Holy fucking water? What are you reading, Vampire Slaying for Dummies?"
"Shit!" Paris cursed at herself, beginning to the feel the panic. "Uh, I suppose that the garlic in my other pocket will not help my cause in killing you?"
Sarcastically the brunette mocked her. "It will in another way. I can rub it into the flowing wound I'm about to make against your breast and give your blood a zesty flavor." She restrained Paris against the bookcase and tore open the blouse Paris wore to expose her chest to her. "I'm tired of not being able to feed. I need to feed and I hope that I will get to enjoy you."
"I don't want to be a vampire!" Paris warned. "I have life goals! I want to--"
"Yeah, yeah, get to Harvard, become a cancer researcher. Save it, bitch. I know your life story eighty times over thanks to the way you prattle on about how you're better than me every goddamned day of my life." Ripping at a bra strap she yanked away the dark red article to fully expose the area just above Paris's heart where she knew the blood feeding would wither away the muscle. "And the way I'm feeding on you, there will be death. I wouldn't keep you alive so you could compete with me for a meal. If I fed on your neck you'd live eternally. I'm sucking your soul if I feed off the main arteries."
"Rory...don't do this, please. I know you have empathy. This is not right to kill your best friend. You don't want to do this." Paris began to cry, realizing that her life was ending. "Rory, I love you. Don't...don't let me die in this way. Don't...don't..."
In her panicked thinking Paris should have been considering how her parents would regard her death and how she would be remembered. What would be on her tombstone and who would get the Gellar inheritance.
But she was a multi-tasker. As Rory's fangs came out and she offered the girl the mercy of a last prayer to God, her mind came back to a conversation at the Gilmore home weeks before. She always welcomed the hospitality of Lorelai Gilmore and how nice she always was. In the aftermath of a date with a dullard her mother set her up on Paris asked for advice from the woman and about her dating experience.
"Well, Rory. Had her at sixteen. Not really much with the being attractive while holding a six-month old."
"I understand that. But surely you had one date at least?" "Honestly, I didn't. I'm sorry to disappoint." She shrugged as Paris tried to wear her down. "I might have jokingly kissed some guys..." "Really. I thought you weren't the type to kiss and tell." "Oh, I can tell you most of the boys here are terrible. However I do know one certain guy who is wonderful." "Luke?" "Yup." She smiled. "I remember I did kiss him when we didn't even know each other in the first few days I got here. He was being protective of me when some jackass football player was making assumptions about my easiness. So he took me in his arms, swept me back and gave me a full-on kiss to say 'hell, I'd date her. So she has a kid, what's the big ruckus?' I didn't even remember it was him until a few weeks ago when we went out on our first date..."
She didn't recall the remainder of the conversation. But one other fact stood out.
It was a kiss Lorelai shared with whom anyone in Stars Hollow with a functioning brain stem knew that was her true love.
A kiss. Paris suddenly had that moment of clarity.
Before Emily had come back into Rory's life, there was likely no way at all that her friend knew she was a bloodsucker. Lorelai likely hid it because for some reason her vampiristic tendencies melted away in what she thought was a silly little kiss.
Lorelai probably never even knew at all that she was once a vampire. In that moment Paris realized that Emily was making up for the time she lost as Lorelai rebelled hard against Emily for what she assumed was overprotective parenting.
It likely ended up that Lorelai's mutiny completely ruined all attempts for Emily to groom her daughter to be a vampire.
But she still had a chance with Rory...
OK, Par. Think, process, focus. You are taking a risk on something that is a complete bullshit theory your mind just came up with in a huge panic to save your skin. If this does not work, not only have you completely humiliated yourself by doing so, but you'll be headed to the pearly gates trying to justify why you admitted what you felt for your best friend as part of testing something you think was connected to her state of mind and biology.
Paris could have gone her whole life without admitting what she felt for her classmate. How disappointed she was to hear Rory didn't want to room with her in Washington and her jealousy over Tristan in the first place that he was trying to date her. Being a quiet girl in a family that was usually private she was scared of how she felt and wanted to deny everything that she was feeling in her heart.
Despite her need to subdue the evil in her friend, she still loved her.
But she wasn't ready to admit that. She didn't know if she ever was ready to do so.
Her friend was about to dry out the blood from her heart however. She had only one defense left. Her love for Rory was the last weapon in her arsenal.
If it failed she was bound to be remembered forever in Hartford as being part of a bizarre death that tipped off what was sure to be a massacre.
But if she succeeded, new questions would come. New consequences and the possibility that Rory could hate her.
Paris Gellar knew however that she didn't get to being first in her class by tiptoeing around the forbidden or ceding to her opponents.
Her moment was now over however. Instead of becoming closer to God, she had formulated her plan, hopeful it would work.
Rory was matter-of-fact as she prepared to subdue her competition forever.
"It's been nice knowing you, Paris. But I'm starving and you look good enough to eat. Enjoy eternity...former Chilton student body president." With a hiss she thought she had Paris relaxed in fear as she moved her mouth down to suck upon the top of her friend's breast to pierce the skin and muscle and breach the critical artery containing her life force.
But the last four words brought her that force.
Rory couldn't run student government. Francie for sure would be in charge because Rory would willfully give up her power to pursue her bloodlust. If Francie took over...
Paris knew for her own safety she had to do what she had to. No way that bitch rules just because I died, she thought. I will haunt that red-haired whore's life until she jumps into the Connecticut River in fear of my spectre.
Certainly though it was distant. Proving her feelings to Rory might save her life.
Just as Rory was about to breach her flesh, Paris made her move. Her hands, which had been behind her back, pushed forward then took Rory at her sides strongly. She then pushed her away swiftly towards the other side of the room, using every ounce of strength her adrenaline could afford her.
Rory crashed into the back wall and was overtaken by the strength, surprised Paris was fighting back. She felt angered.
"What the hell? Take it like a woman!" She moved towards Paris, but quickly Paris pushed her back, wanting to fight back and wear her down. She was deliberate, knowing the layout of the room as she fought the vampric young woman hand to hand.
Soon Paris felt herself pushed into the bookcase anew, volumes shaken out from the case and collapsing to the ground. The women fought as Paris felt flush, cursing Rory for tearing her bra as the breast kept nearly falling out from the cup.
"Rory, stop this. You're too sweet to be a vampire!"
"Let me kill you. If you keep resisting you're going to be miserable. I'm just gonna kill you in your sleep." She made a finger motion to beckon Paris closer. "I can't stand that you're still alive."
"Why? Why me? Why not Lane?"
"Because her faith protects her. She has fucking crucifixes all over the house and I could never get close! You have no crosses here. You're unprotected."
"Is it because I'm a Jew?" Paris didn't know why she asked the question but she had to know.
"Of course not! Geeze, do you think vampires discriminate?" She shook her head. "I would feel guiltless feeding off you, but Lane I could never bear to do it. She's my friend!"
"So if I told you that I loved you would you feed off me?"
"What does that matter?"
"Because I do. I love you deeply, Gilmore. My heart beats for you. If you were to take my life, my love for you would still be everlasting." She shifted on her feet to stay ahead of Rory, awaiting her next move. "Would you want your lover to die just so you can sate your hunger for blood. I mean sure, I'd probably be a satisfying meal. I eat healthy and in turn my blood must be the equivalent of Evian or Kobe Beef in your world. But would you really hurt the one who loves you?"
"That's hilarious!" Rory scoffed. "You? Love me? Miss 'I'll make this school a living hell?' Fuck you, Paris. If that's love, I don't want to know what your definition of hate is!"
"I have to defend myself! Do you really think I'm going to let you coast by? For fuck's sake I meant I'll make your school life that way. I wouldn't do that to you in your private life." She circled around again. "I do love you. In some way it's now so fucked up that I should definitely reconsider, but I'm tired of this, having to evade my feelings because society thinks it's so wrong. I admit it...I love you, Rory Gilmore." She began to cry. "I have to get this out before I die. And if it..."
"Paris...I can't. No matter what you say, I cannot. I must..."
"You don't have to do anything. Rory, I know Emily is developing you into a hostess. That she attacked Louise and likely Tristan fell into her clutches. Your grandmother knows that Lorelai is out. She has a soul and was reborn in that moment she kissed Luke sixteen years ago." She dared to move closer. "Rory--"
"But...but this is the only thing that's truly mine! That I didn't have to earn. I...I can't give in. If I do I...I..."
Finding a moment of weakness Paris knew she had to take advantage of it. Rory in her most vulnerable state, she couldn't attempt to convince her of her feelings. She just had to act.
When she moved close, in a small moment she noticed another sign she had missed months before when Rory played Juliet.
There was a wrinkle in her nose. That tether of control. A deep exhalation of breath that she remembered from that one moment before she faked the kiss.
She tested. Slowed down the moment.
"Rory?" Her words were soft. "Can you...can you smell my blood?" A pause. "Is that...that why you were so taken with me? Because the scent of my blood overpowered your instincts?"
Rory was stunned still. Her vampire tendencies were telling her to kill her best friend. But her body was tuned more to the scent Paris gave off. Fear and panic which she had smelled earlier had turned to that of passion and strength. She knew she needed to overpower that instinct, to do what her grandmother had commanded her to do in their "DAR meetings".
DAR. Yeah. There's a reason nobody goes to those meetings; it's a group of vampires disguised as a service organization.
"Par," Rory begged. "Please...please just stop. Let me feed off you. I promise you that I will make it...I'll make it painless. I'll hit the artery fast so you don't suffer..."
In that moment Paris knew that she was onto something. She was usually a shy young woman and had no interest in pursuing anything that she wanted.
But she knew to tempt the Rory she had befriended into overpowering her vampire self, she had to show that it would be better to be human than it would be a creature of the night.
She began to disrobe further, tossing off the lab coat and the blouse she wore beneath it, leaving her in only her bra.
Her voice took on a dark seductive timbre designed to overpower. "You know if you drink from me, that you will never be able to partake of me sexually every single day. To know that the reason I chose you as my vice president had much more to do with the way you drive me crazy than of anything political." The clothes tumbled to the floor as the emboldened blonde attempted to hit on everything that had attracted Rory to her as a victim and exploit it as a lover.
She was left in her torn bra and the blue pencil skirt that completed the costume. Reaching back, she untied her hair to let it fall loose, carefully curled hair falling at her shoulders. Rory bit down on her knuckle and parted it to let her fangs rest within them. You should be pouncing. Stop this, Rory. Get her, she's acting like a free meal right now. Drink of her!
Paris caressed her fingers along her stomach, her perfect skin glistening in the dark moonlight of the parlor. "You know what you do to me, Gilmore? Of how despite all I have attempted to do to stop you, I've held out hope I could do so harmlessly. I don't want to see you suffer. I would hate myself for the rest of my life if I had to kill you." Fingers lingered at the waist of her dress, tempting Rory's eyes southward. "Even as I dug for clues to your life when I was in Bulgaria I would still think of you at night. Have fantasies. Even betray my thinking and enjoy the idea of you turning me. Of tasting my own blood within your mouth. The idea of you having it drip upon your lip should repulse me, but it kept me sane in these months of research to hope these could just remain harmless fantasies, not deadly realities."
She moved closer, beckoning Rory in as she cornered her within the room. "My lover, my best friend. Release yourself from the curse of the Oreshovskis, define your own legacy. Don't let Emily control your fate. You are a good woman, Lorelai Leigh. It would be a waste to see you just let that potential go because some bitter jackass in the 1600's couldn't get over your family taking some land. Who the fuck cares about your great grandfather 30 times over? You're living for now, and you don't need blood to live. My love for you should suffice."
Rory tried to resist. But Paris's eyes enchanted her, along with her soft smile. She kept hearing the echoes of her grandmother telling her to attack. But as Paris's hips pushed against hers, she no longer felt that temptation to bite in and kill her friend. Her body reacted with hot desire, her eyes smoldered with passion.
All of those feelings for Paris she ignored for years under the cover of being a good heterosexual vampire and future hostess vampire for all of New England rose up. She was taken with the girl from day one, and felt an orgasmic sense of satisfaction when she stole the question from the blonde on the first day. She admitted to herself that it was more fun pissing off Paris than it ever was kissing Dean. The anger of the girl mixed with that rare empathy, of general disillusionment with her life in Hartford.
When Emily told her the night of the snowstorm she was part of the Oreshovski clan of vampires, she thought it was a joke. She didn't believe it. But she was told it was her destiny to drink of the young of Hartford, to rule forever. "Your mother was a disappointment," she told the girl as she went over the family album, "but I know you will do me proud."
The magnetism grew between Paris and Rory. Her feral blue eyes now reflected desire instead of rage. She had been hoping Paris would find her out, but knew there might be a chance she could destroy the girl up close. That was the reason she rejected Washington; she didn't trust her self-control at all, especially in the heat of a DC summer.
But now only centimeters kept them apart. And Paris was fearlessly breaching them.
The girl has o's, Rory admitted. She felt Paris's hands slide beneath the hem of her sweater and the shirt beneath, before she whispered one last thing.
"I love you, Rory. Never forget that."
The stunned girl couldn't do a thing as Paris parted her lips with the most gentle of kisses. Any attempt to push her away had been subdued and as Rory's vampiric self raged for her to bite hard into her friend's lip, her own self told her to relax and enjoy, fighting a hard battle to overpower that aspect of her personality. You don't want that, she told herself. You need her.
At first her own actions were awkward, slow. She felt uncomfortable touching the girl, afraid she would be cold to the touch. But as she finally laid her fingertips on the small of her back, she felt warmness overtake them.
And where her body was usually permanently chilled, when Paris kissed her, Rory's body temperature immediately warmed the way it would when her mother or a doctor would check for a temperature, an automatic mechanism designed to keep them at ease. She felt Paris push to move her tongue in further. Moaning into the kiss, she welcomed the girl within her mouth and the feeling of it sliding between her fangs was a pleasure she had never known before.
Slowly they began to stir their senses. Paris knew how much she loved the girl and kept her tightly restrained within the corner, a foot at the ready to make a hasty exit in case she was about to be bit. But there was no need. Rory pulled her closer as the kissed stirred deeper. A hand slid up one of Paris's long legs to hitch the skirt up. Paris pressed her thigh against Rory's jean-covered center as their hands wandered.
Soon Paris's bra was discarded to the ground. The only sounds were their breathing and occasional exhalations about needing more from each other. The sensation of hardened nipples pressed against her chest lit a fire within the brunette she had yet to discover. Her other side tried to force her to harm her lover but just as it got an opening in her mind, Paris would kiss her anew and further the fogs of distraction. Her body was in full control, along with her heart.
She was told by her grandmother that her soul was just a thin veneer, that in reality she never had one. But the sensations sent up her spine in that moment told her there was no way Emily knew what the hell she was talking about. Pushing up Paris's skirt all the way, she found something that made her blood boil. Her eyes heated as she took in the sight.
"Oh fuck!" she exclaimed. Instead of the plainness she associated with her superior in student government, there was nothing plain about Paris on this night. "Par...Paris. What are you doing?"
The blonde's thin smile suggested she knew exactly what she was doing. "Hey, if I'm gonna die, I'm going to do it in my best lingerie." The sight of Rory acting like a goldfish as she took in Paris' dark red and sheer panties, which went perfectly with the garter belt of the same color connecting to her grey stockings was priceless. She knew if she came out of this alive that she would now have a new way to keep herself #1.
"You're going down," Rory dared, and she pulled Paris against her, willing to friction herself off by Paris's bare leg as she knew the lust within her friend's eyes was giving her full permission to proceed with the act she wanted much more than to turn her friend.
Paris heard a tear from below and her body immediately reacted with a shudder as the turning had instead ended up as a fucking. Soon pressed against the wall herself the two women shared a long and torrid kiss as Rory's thick and dark violet-polished fingernails entered her. In all of her dreams she had thought of making love as slow and passionate.
But this was just as good. Having her cunt pounded by a girl who minutes before was going to kill her was the most forbidden and sexually stirring thing she ever knew. The slickness of her center as she screamed against Rory's mouth impressed the brunette, who felt her jeans soaking with the desire she felt.
And she began to feel her heart pound harder than it ever had in her life. Paris pressed harder as Rory hit her newly-exposed spot in the best way possible. Both women cursed, the erotic thrill of fucking a floor above the biggest party of the year such a turn-on. The temptation of Paris had scared her and she was willing to kill the girl in order to negate those feelings.
No longer. She begged Paris to unzip her jeans. Paris did and soon bare flesh was pressed against soaked cotton. The two young women began to ride those deep waves as Paris felt herself clenching against Rory's fingers. There was more feverish kissing and Rory could sense Paris's scent much more than ever. She felt human again for the first time in two years. Feeling her heart pound hard she hoped she could hold out.
Paris felt her hair being pulled, then fingers from Rory's free hand scrape down her back. She was scared that it would set off the tendency for her to feed but she was surprised when Rory just kept making love to her. Soon she felt the first signs of her fulfillment. Pressing hard against Rory's fingers she clenched hard. She cried into the dry air of the room as she felt that final breach of her adolescence rush from her throat in a wail as her body collapsed around Rory's fingers. Cursing at God and Rory she felt that need fill her and her entire being ripped from her. She was overwhelmed and pressed Rory hard against her to hasten her orgasm, which came in slow needy waves.
Then before she could realize it, Rory begged her to press her body against her. She needed control as she felt a spasm, a seizure overtake her body.
"Rory, are you OK--"
"Just...hold me, baby. Please, hold...me...hold me...OOHHHHHH!!!"
Before Paris could question why she felt Rory's body quiver hard, her breathing labored as she felt waves of pain overtake her. At first Paris asked her if she needed to call for help, but Rory assured her that there was no need, that she knew what was happening. She cried against the girl's bare chest as she felt the pain overtake her. Five minutes passed as the unexpected metamorphosis turned Rory from who she loathed to be and into what she had held back since that September morning which had ended up bringing her to this result.
She had gone into this evening wanting to ease Paris's suffering, to end a life of misery that was sure to befall her if she let her live for her own pain. But as she pulled away from the sweat-dampened girl, Rory knew she was much different.
Her body was warm. Her eyes still shone bright, no longer from malice, but from innocence. Her body didn't feel a jitter from having Paris close by.
And most of all, her heart, rather than having that sting of a utilitarian use to keep her blood flowing, now felt full of life. It pounded beneath permanently warmed skin, rather than cool flesh.
As Paris took in her lover, she then realized there was a weight between her breasts. Reaching into her cleavage she didn't know what to find.
But then she felt a sharp point on one side, and a mushy edifice on the other. She took the weight into her hand and held it out.
Rory paled upon the sight.
Her fangs, rather than retracting in, had fallen out, and with it, the final signs that she ever was a vampire. Rory wept as she pulled her hands from Paris's waist to kiss her close...
Only to find something upon her left hand. Something that she used to crave, which was her life force, but was now a reminder of how she became human.
"Oh my God." Rory felt immediately apologetic. "Oh God, I completely forgot. Par...you must hate me, what was I thinking--"
"Shhhhhhhhhh...." Rory was soothed by the blonde circling her thumb within her other hand. "It's nothing."
"It isn't nothing. I...I violated you--"
"NO!" There was that firm tone of voice as her other hand held onto her wrist. "We both wanted this. Needed this. I love you and if this is what resulted, I will never forget that you were the first to make love to me."
"But...but we didn't. You...you gave yourself up, sacrificed for others. To take away my pain and I feel like--"
"Rory?"
"Paris."
Her eyes were soft, filled with tears. "Lick them clean. For me. Savor them. Know that you deserve this precious gift. I would not have given in if I thought within your soul, there was love for me."
Nervously she let her tongue dart out as she took in that strong scent she had grown used to heavy upon her fingers. The crimson color staining them, she felt she didn't deserve the love of Paris.
"I...I...almost...killed you. What happens now? Do you hate me? Do you...see me as using you to rid myself of the curse?"
Paris shook her head. "Drink of me, Gilmore. Taste me in the way your heart wanted to in the first place."
"But..."
"I love you, Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. This was intended. Now taste." Her body warmed, she took in the sight of Rory licking her fingertips as she collapsed into a chair and watched the brunette lick the remainders of her breached virginity from her fingers. Soon she felt warmed and sated as she took in her lover's life fluid, no longer keeping her from going insane, but now used to prove that her love overpowered what her destiny had been before Paris redefined who she was. The taste of the blood, the sight of Paris putting back on her shirt and crossing her legs from the newly created breach freeing her from having to hold her love for Rory within forever, Rory felt fully human for the first time. From when she was born she always thought of herself as abnormal, alien and always craving that first true feeding.
Now it would all be a cruel memory. Her soul filled her heart, her body warmed by the smile her lover directed at her.
However she knew the dread and the warnings of what were to happen if she had kissed her true love. After the two women headed to a washroom and cleansed themselves, then headed into Paris's bedroom so she could change her clothing, Rory sat on the bed, knowing that her actions of tonight would have consequences.
"Paris?" She looked up at the girl, who had thrown on yoga pants and a Harvard t-shirt.
"Yes?" The girl was worried, seeing her Farm Girl looking devastated. "What's wrong? Are you regretting this?"
Rory shook her head. "Not at all. But...but with your proving your love for me tonight, there are consequences."
"No there aren't. You're not a vampire anymore, Gilmore. You're human."
She began to cry. "Paris, the moment my soul was fully released, you lifted the curse of the Oreshovskis. And with that, there is no longer any kind of Oreshovski blood line."
"What do you mean?" Paris sat at her side, putting her hand on her knee. "Rory--"
"There will be no further generations of the clan. I...I...Paris, I hate to admit this. But when Louise and Tristan were turned by Grandma, it was with the expectation that I would become their hostess. And now that I'm whole...they will die. The life will fade away from them."
"Rory..."
"Emily fed off them. She told me. I told her not to get anyone else involved, but she wouldn't listen. And now that she has passed menopause and her lineage has ended...I fully expect to receive a call in the next hour that she has passed away quietly at home."
"Are you sure?" Rory nodded. "But it was unrelated--"
"The curse was that once the final Oreshovski was killed or found their soul, the others who do not have their soul would die. It would be useless. Tonight, your love has killed off the worst vampire lineage in all of northern Bulgaria and in turn New England."
"Rory, she'll probably be OK."
"She won't." Rory's face warmed. "I expect the call any moment now. And Louise, I'm sorry. As someone who is a new vampire by force, she probably felt incredible pain as she died. Tristan likely died quietly because knowing my lore with the clan, he resisted the change and all of his strength was sapped."
"Oh God. I'm so sorry. I never intended that my plan would have killed so many people."
"Don't let yourself take the blame. The only one who deserves all of the scorn was Emily." Looking out the window as Paris placed her head on Rory's shoulder, she felt her hate of the woman come out in full force. "May she rot in Hell. Thank God I'm finally free of this, thanks to you, love."
There was quiet in the room in ten minutes as both girls tried to come to terms with the changes of this Halloween night. They both would never look at the day with derision ever again, knowing it would alter their beings for their remaining days. They knew it would take a while to come to terms with things, and that the explanation to Madeline of why her best friend had died would be interesting. But they both were glad that everything had remained between the two of them. Paris swore to burn her research and swear her professor to secrecy, and that a trip to Bulgaria to tell them the curse was over was needed.
There was still a party to be had, however. Instead of a warning, it would be a celebration. But before they left, Paris had one more question for her lover.
"What about Richard? How is it he didn't stop the curse?" As they walked out of the room, Rory rolled her eyes.
"He is still my grandfather. He loves me. But his true love is Pennilynn Lott. He was cursed as a concubine who was oblivious to my grandmother's motives. All of the love she showed for him? It was never true. She was just in it all to usurp the Gilmore legacy and for him to provide seed for her future family to spread the curse."
"So what are you saying?"
The final note was struck with a grave tone of voice. "Mom had the right idea staying away from her. The only person Emily ever loved was herself." With that, they left for the party, never to speak to anyone but Madeline about the events of the last two hours. Their love would remain strong, while at the Gilmore mansion the darkness of the last forty years would lift with Emily's sudden death from a heart attack.
When Richard would notify Rory later on, there was more relief in his voice than shock. He could not figure out why, but as his granddaughter assured him that she would be there for him, they all knew that life from that night further would no longer be colored in shades of black or red. Rory was free and as she held her mother and Paris's hands at casketside during the service days later, she threw a red rose on the coffin as it was placed in the ground.
No one would notice that the petals inside were blackened, a perfect description of the woman who had truly made her life a living hell.
THE END.