A/N: Title from "Youth" by Daughter.
Based on a prompt from otpprompts on tumblr (post/100197756249/imagine-person-a-waking-up-from-a-terrible), with a few tweaks.

Set post-episode 34.

I'm so sorry.

There was fire everywhere. She was nearly swimming through it, wading through tongues of flame that felt strangely cold, licking at her bare feet. Her entire field of vision was fire and smoke, and in the center, a pillar of ash where a girl ought to be.

Carmilla! she screamed, her throat raw and burning, as she helplessly collapsed to her knees. Hot tears rolled down her face, mingling with the blood from the gash on her cheek. Carmilla! she cried again, her anguish like flames up her throat.

She felt hands on her arms and immediately fought against them, trying to throw them off, to get to where she had seen Carmilla…

But they were too strong, and they were shaking her, shaking her, and a voice was calling her name; "Laura, Laura! Laura, please wake up, it's just a dream, wake up…"

Her eyes popped open and she jerked upright, her eyes flying wildly around the room. Finally, finding to evidence of lingering flames, her gaze settled on the person currently gripping her shoulders worriedly.

Her heart stopped as she took in the full lips, the wavy black hair, the deep brown eyes…

"C-Carmilla?" she wavered, her voice barely a whisper.

The corner of those lips quirked up into a tiny smile. "Hello, Laura."

Without warning, Laura launched herself from her bed, tackling the other girl to the ground in a fierce hug.

"Carmilla! Oh god, you're all right, you're okay! You made it back." She pulled back slightly, laughing even as tears streamed down her face. "You came back."

Carmilla smiled softly and reached up to tuck Laura's hair behind her eye. "Of course I did," she said.

Laura righted herself, pulling Carmilla up with her, reluctant to break contact for even one second. Once they were both upright, she began to run her hands over Carmilla's face, her shoulders, her arms, checking for any kind of injuries.

"You are okay, right?" she asked. "You're actually…?"

"If you're going to ask me if I'm alive, you're about 300 years too late, cutie," Carmilla said with a wry smile. "But yeah, I'm all in one piece. I'm here."

Laura stopped her inspection, clasping Carmilla's hands in her own. "But how?" she asked. "How did you get out? I saw you, I saw…"

Carmilla squeezed her hands and brought them to her lips, effectively cutting her off. "I want to tell you, and I promise I will, but… can we continue this later? I'm just so tired."

"Oh god, yes, of course, you've been through so much…" Laura hurried to say.

She climbed to her feet and helped Carmilla up after her. The two stood there in awkward silence for a second, until Laura gestured towards Carmilla's bed. "Do you want to…?"

Carmilla shuffled her feet self-consciously, then said, "I was actually hoping I could sleep with you tonight. Is that okay?"

"Yes," Laura said, a little too fervently.

She was about to duck her head in embarrassment, but then she saw the look of pure affection and gratitude on Carmilla's face. Instead, she led the girl over to her bed, pulling back the covers and crawling in against the wall without letting go of her hand. Carmilla quickly slid in after her, and Laura pulled the covers up to their chins.

The two girls nestled closer to each other, their hands clasped together between them and their legs intertwined.

"Carm?" Laura said, resting her forehead against the other girl's. Carmilla hummed in acknowledgement, her eyes already half-closed. "I'm really glad you're back."

"Me too," Carmilla mumbled, fully closing her eyes and burrowing even further into Laura's warmth.

There was a moment of silence, then Laura whispered, "I love you."

It was too late though; Carmilla's breathing had already evened out into deep sleep.

Laura smiled fondly, snuggling impossibly closer to her roommate. It was okay; she had tomorrow to try again.

A loud, incessant ringing sounded in Laura's ears, jerking her from sleep. She groaned groggily, pulling the blankets up around her ears.

"Carm, would you turn that off?" she mumbled sleepily, trying to burrow further into her bed. When the blaring continued, she reluctantly rolled over. "Carm?"

When she turned over, she was met not with dark sleep-mussed hair and a drowsy smile, but with an empty bed and cold sheets.

She sat bolt upright, looking around her in panic. "Carm?!"

As she glanced around the room, her heart sank lower and lower in her chest. Everything was exactly the same as she had left it the night before. The bloody bandages were still on her desk, some of Perry's leftover stakes still scattered around the room, the muddy footprints still exactly where multiple pairs of shoes had left them.

How was that possible? She had knocked Carmilla to the ground; that would have had to disturb the dirty tracks. They had landed right there, right? Or, was it more over here…?

Suddenly, Laura realized she couldn't remember exactly what happened last night. The battle, she could remember with vivid clarity, and she shuddered at the images that flitted through her mind's eye, quickly shutting them in the darkest corner of her mind. But anything after that… She couldn't remember precisely how Carmilla's face had looked when Laura agreed to let her in her bed, or how her skin felt under Laura's fingertips. What exactly had she said when she first came in? It's only a dream…?

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

She tore the room apart, frantically searching for any proof that Carmilla had been there last night. She even shook out her sheets, hoping to see a few dark strands of hair float loose.

But there was nothing.

She was never here. She never came back. She's really…

Laura couldn't finish the thought. It had taken nearly everything she had to admit it out loud to the camera last night; she didn't have the strength to say it now, even to herself.

She felt numb, detached. Distantly, she felt her knees give out, and she sank onto Carmilla's bed.

Carmilla wasn't coming back. She was never coming back. Laura felt the grief press down on her, bowing her back until she was curled into a tiny ball, her body wracked with heaving sobs, the yellow pillow clutched in her hands.

There was no tomorrow to try again. There never would be. Carmilla was dead, and it was all her fault.