Disclaimer: Still don't own Carmilla (the series), or any recognizable characters.

Author's Note: Back around the time I wrote chapter 7 of Let's Pretend, I commented that while I thought the artifically-generated angst that the Carmilla showrunners had brought into season 2 was stupid (and rather out of character for everyone concerned), that didn't mean I was against angst as a whole, and that, once one or more of my active stories was finished, I might just write an angst fic of my own to prove it. This is that story.

Brace yourselves.

(Also, it seems there will be a season 3 of Carmilla. No, I will not be watching it, unless I hear amazing things about it. I doubt they care, but I have even made VerveGirl aware of this.)

"I guess that's just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up." - Lauren Oliver, Delirium


Do you really not know what's happening in that pit? God, you never paid attention when Mother talked business. You were always too busy with who or whatever you were enamored with, and now– And now– you're head over heels for Samantha Spade.

On some level, she knew she was being foolish. So Mattie didn't believe that her relationship with Carmilla had any chance of lasting. So what? Sure, she was a lot older, but that didn't mean she was a lot wiser. She would have just sat down and explained things, in that case. Gaining the cooperation of the student body for... whatever... would make things much easier in the long run, wouldn't it? Cooperation and honest discourse certainly seemed like the more civilized option, to her.

But what did she know? She was just a naïve, provincial, tightly-wound schoolgirl.

And are you really trying to pump me for information for a kid who isn't even old enough to remember leg warmers?This is what you do. But now that you're in your fourth century, maybe it's time you sort through some of those self-destructive patterns.

What are you talking about?

You killed Mother, and very nearly killed yourself. All for a girl who you've known for less than three months–

Intellectually, Laura knew she had no real reason to be feeling so hurt. Carmilla was centuries old. It wasn't like she'd ever thought this was her first real relationship. Especially not after learning about Elle.

Oh, Carmilla had never called her more than a friend, but to be willing to cross her mother to save her? Running away together?

Pretty much the same thing she'd wanted to do with Laura?

It wasn't just about her, though. She knew that. Carmilla had even said as much, hadn't she?

There were other reasons for–

-and now you're rushing into another relationship, probably half because you need it to work or you killed Mother for nothing... even though this girl's a mayfly, buzzing at you with her insect ideas of right and wrong.

Oh, come on– plenty of vampires have relationships with humans.

We call that snacking.

That, however, Carmilla hadn't argued. Hadn't even tried to. Laura had told herself that what they had was special, so of course other vampires wouldn't be able to understand, and Carmilla obviously agreed...

But doubts had begun to claw at her.

Little ones, at first. Remembering the first time she'd dared to believe Carmilla was different from all the other vampires, when Will had been about to kill her... only for Carmilla to bite her and run off, then be fully prepared to flee the school and leave her to die.

Admitting to her feelings for Carmilla (to herself, but she knew Carmilla, with her vampiric hearing, had likely heard her... to say nothing of the camera still being on), only to have Carm betray everything she believed in by letting the vampires take Kirsch and stalling in retrieving the Blade of Hastur. Not trusting Laura enough to explain even about what the sword would do to her if she used it. Not telling her that she'd been bodyjacked by the dean and used like one of the puppets from that stupid sock puppet show she'd put on while Carmilla had been tied up. Knowing what had been done to her had left her feeling so horribly violated, and she'd never gotten so much as an apology for the lies, even afterward.

Like as long as she was getting what she wanted, Laura's feelings didn't matter to Carmilla.

How can any of these girls be a match for you? The dark beauty of world's rotting core?

She's stronger than you think.

Of course. When you're done playing with your food, I'll be waiting. I always am.

It'll be a long wait.

I've got time.

Of course she did. Vampires had all the time in the world, didn't they? She hadn't been with Carmilla quite long enough to really be thinking about spending eternity with her, but she felt irrationally hurt that Carmilla didn't seem to have ever even considered the idea herself. She could have at least mentioned it as an option in her talk with Mattie, couldn't she?

Stop it, she told herself. Just stop it. You're being stupid. She shouldn't be letting the evil vampire's evil words of evilness get to her like this. Mattie had obviously known she was listening, she decided. She'd probably heard her breathing, or detected her heartbeat, or something. That conversation had been entirely for her benefit. She couldn't kill her, so she settled for hurting her, instead.

A lone, quiet voice in the back of her mind thought she was just deluding herself. That however insensitively she'd made them, Mattie had raised a number of fair points, and that the sooner she and Carmilla addressed them, the better off - and more stable - their relationship would be.

She crucified that little voice, because they were approaching the crater, and she didn't have time for distractions like that. She needed to focus. Besides, Carmilla wasn't anything like Mattie had been trying to make her out to be.

Cupcake, you are ridiculous and headstrong and naïve and this whole Lois Lane Junior gig is doomed, okay?

But that was before, she told herself stubbornly. Carmilla understood her better, now, understood her motivations for becoming an investigative journalist. And so maybe she did still lie about things. Important things. Like the fact that they were living in the house of the woman who had forced her way inside Laura and used her. Had used her to hurt her friends. She could have killed JP, if the whole flashdrive thing had actually worked the way she'd thought it had at the time. The dean could have done whatever she'd wanted with her - to her - and she would have been powerless to do a damned thing about it. She wouldn't even have known, unless that had also happened in front of her webcam, since evidence suggested Carmilla certainly wouldn't have told her.

She'd spent almost ten minutes throwing up, after she watched that footage, trying - and failing - not to cry.

She'd tried to be quiet about it, really she had. Perry had really had enough emotional baggage to deal with where LaFontaine was concerned, she hadn't needed to worry about Laura falling apart, too. She'd failed at that, as well - at that moment, her entire time at Silas had felt like one long string of failures - but Perry hadn't been made Floor Don by accident. Even if Laura hadn't made a sound, she still likely would have known something was wrong, and still would have comforted her. That was just who she was. So to have her being traumatized by the current events the way she was...

It was too far. Perry should have been off-limits to the forces of evil.

"So... Is there an actual plan, here?" LaFontaine asked. They were the first words anyone had spoken since they'd left the house.

Laura didn't really want to reply - didn't feel like talking to anyone just then - but she kind of had to, since this whole trip had been her idea. (Technically, Carmilla had been the first to say it out loud, but it was obvious she hadn't wanted to go - still didn't want to be there, in fact - but had known what Laura was thinking. Because, evidently, she was that easy to figure out.) "Go in, get a look at what they're doing, get out," she said tersely.

"Great. Then what?" Carmilla challenged.

"That'll depend on what they're doing down there, won't it?" Laura shot back.

"And suppose we find that Mattie isn't the evil mastermind you're so determined to make her out to be?"

"Well, that would be a refreshing change of pace where your 'family' is concerned, wouldn't it?"

Carmilla glared, but given that the other members of that family consisted of Will and the dean, she couldn't exactly argue. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe - just maybe - she didn't kill those reporters?"

"Then why wouldn't she just tell you that, so you could direct my 'insect ideas of right and wrong' off in another direction that wouldn't be annoying her?" She glared back. "Not to mention she introduced herself by threatening to murder me horribly, and obviously still fully intends to do so the minute you decide you're tired of me. And all for the sake of someone she cared so little for she tried to kill her herself, apparently."

"If you didn't like what she had to say, you shouldn't have been listening."

Of course she just ignored the points Laura made. Of course she did. "If I hadn't been, I never would have known, though, would I?" They'd come to a halt about twenty yards away from the crater, close enough to see the crowd of protesters hadn't shrunk any - if anything, Laura thought there were more of them, now. There were at least twenty-five people with candles and blank expressions standing at the crater's edge, humming.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That you don't tell me things! That you won't stop lying to me!" She had to consciously remind herself not to start yelling. "And no, I'm not even talking about the whole charade at the beginning of the year. I was just some girl, then, right? But after that... That whole thing with the necklace? 'Oh, vague and non-specific things you don't need to worry about.' What happened to Kirsch? 'No idea.' Where's JP's flashdrive? 'How should I know?' You're gonna go get the sword, right? 'Oh, sure. Any day, now.'"

Carmilla was starting to look genuinely angry. "You know exactly why-"

Laura wasn't done, though. "Say, who used to live in this house? 'Oh, fellowship scholars or visiting professors.' The dean's house. Did you think I just wouldn't care?"

"I thought we'd only be there until we could find a way to leave," Carmilla replied heatedly. "It shouldn't have been more than a day or two. But no, you just had to launch yourself into a new crusade!"

"You think that would have made a difference to me?"

"It's just a house!"

"And that thing she sent me last semester was just a necklace!"

"We got rid of that!"

"And, what, you know every single other dangerous thing in that house?" She was vaguely aware of Perry and LaF edging away, looking profoundly uncomfortable, but was too focused and angry to worry about that. "Even if there's nothing else... Knowing that I'm living in her home, I..." She shook her head. "I don't even know how you can stand it, honestly."

Carmilla looked far more subdued - thinking of her past with her 'mother' always seemed to do that to her. "Because it's just a house. There aren't any ghosts there - she took precautions against that sort of thing. So if I can deal with it, so can you. Just... grow up."

Laura nearly slapped her. Her arm quivered, started to rise, but she clenched her fist and kept it at her side. "Excuse me?" she asked in a low, dangerous tone.

Carmilla, centuries old badass vampire that she was, was unfazed. "You heard me. So you have to stay in my mother's creepy old house. So what? She built this whole university, yet you're dedicated to saving it, because of who's here now. So why don't you start applying that line of thought to her house?"

There was a certain logic to that. Even as angry as she was, Laura could see that. But Carmilla was still missing the point. "That isn't where she lived. That bed - our bed - used to be..." She was quiet for a long moment. "You don't even care what she did to me, do you?"

"Trying to sacrifice or kill you doesn't make you unique, even among your friends."

"And you accused me of being insensitive and oblivious?" Laura scoffed. It had been during their mountain trek, when Laura had made an ill-thought-out remark about Carmilla's 'badger breath', and the starving and cranky vampire had snapped at her. She, however, had apologized for it immediately, genuinely feeling bad about hurting her girlfriend's feelings. "She violated me, Carmilla! There may not have been anything sexual about it, but... In some ways, this was worse. Maybe you can't understand that without experiencing it - in which case, I hope to God you never do get it - but stop pretending it didn't happen!"

Carmilla blinked, taken aback. "Laura..."

"I still have nightmares about it!" It was getting harder and harder not to shout, but she managed to keep her voice down. "I dream that I find myself standing somewhere - our dorm room, the cave, my Dad's house - covered in blood, dead bodies all over, and people telling me I killed them. That... That she made me hurt you. Because I was too weak. I couldn't stop her."

"Don't you dare blame yourself for that. No one would have been able to resist what she did to you," Carmilla said softly, looking pained. "It wasn't your fault."

"Why not? Everything else that's going wrong is, right?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You were not the only one in the cave that night - if you hadn't killed Mother, someone else would have - and you are not personally responsible for holding this campus together. Everyone should have left when they had the chance."

She wanted to believe that. But she couldn't. She had killed the dean. She did run away from the situation she'd created. Then she'd pushed her girlfriend into (more or less) working against the only member of her twisted family she actually cared for... even if that sister did want Laura dead. And quite possibly had sinister designs for the student body. "They shouldn't have to," she insisted. "They shouldn't have to deal with any of this. They should just be able to attend classes, do their schoolwork, and graduate. The Voice staff shouldn't have been killed for no good reason at all."

"That's what happens when reporters poke their noses into places that they shouldn't," Carmilla told her. "Why do you think I hate it when you go on these crusades?"

"Do you even care that they're dead?"

"I didn't know them!"

"And, what? You need to actually know someone for their death to be wrong?"

"Do you have any idea how much death I've seen over the last few hundred years?" Carmilla asked her. "I learned centuries ago not to let them all affect me. I had to, or I would have gone insane a long time ago. People die; that's what they do."

"Because they're only human?"

"Yes!"

"Like me?"

Dead silence.

Carmilla looked like she'd taken a solid blow to the diaphragm. "That... That isn't what I meant..." she stammered out.

"No, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what you meant," Laura replied, hostility fleeing her, replaced by melancholy and depression. "I guess your sister was right. But then, she has known you for centuries, hasn't she? Of course she'd know you better." She shook her head. "Come on, let's get moving."

"Laura, wait-" Carmilla blurted out, but Laura didn't pause. Didn't look back.

Didn't want Carmilla to see she was crying as her heart tried to tear itself in two.