Blood, that distinctly sharp metal tang. The soft haze of being injured, yet the blanket like shock that eases the blow. Familiar this all is, Michael realizes. Somehow, though his vampire life never long enough to have left such a memory.
He can feel his eyes going in and out of focus, hands clenching and unclenching around handfuls of David's leather jacket. He acts as if he's Michael's life-support. Maybe now he truly is.
The scrape of his teeth against his flesh, moments ago, his ears deemed unbearable. The soft slurp of his lips working against Michael's neck now, well, could seem like a lullaby.
Michael knows that he nurses from his wound out of exhaustion, not kindness. At first bite something had shattered in both of them. Control within David, strength within Michael. He couldn't fight it though, it proved too much. A mere few weeks David had appeared in his life, yet the fear fueled nightmares an eternity after. Michael knew he was a monster, but so was he. With that, it seemed, his fate was sealed. He was sure no matter what the life, the circumstance, his soul was always meant to collide with David's.
The burning soon came, his senses going into overdrive at the rapid change that was overcoming his body. Michael knew it wouldn't last, however. He knew that forever after he would remain cold. It was unbearable, the thought. Perhaps worse than the blood being drawn from his neck, or even the light being taken from his eyes. The thought that once he pulled through this the world be gray. More than a color, it was a feeling. Grey—the soon to be epitome of loneliness, misery, of darkness. The way in which he saw the world would never be the same.
A damp, slick hand grasped his face, the force of it refocusing Michael's eyes to the blond boy above him. "Stay with me, Michael."
"Hurts," he croaked out, voice sounding foreign even to himself. It was too rough, as if on the very edge of life. "Hurts really bad."
"Oh," he smiled down at Michael, bearing all blood shimmering, pointed teeth, "maybe I got a little carried away."
Michael grimaced as he felt a hot tear slide down his sweat soaked skin, turning quickly as to not show signs of submission to the demon before him. David instead caught his face easily, forcing his head back roughly to lick a trail up a wet cheek.
"Poor baby," he drawled out, lips twitching slightly in smug satisfaction. Michael would never understand how a man could grin so gleefully looking into a soul so broken. His mind couldn't help but ponder the idea of David being on the other side of the spectrum, David broken beneath the wicked ways of Max.
"Now, open your mouth, Michael. Got something wet for you."
Michael closed his eyes wearily, concentrating on the throb of his head rather than the heat of David's words. "Don't want whatever you've got to give."
"Will make you feel better."
"I just want to die."
"So impatient, we're getting to that part now."
Michael felt it more than he heard it. The slash of metal against skin, though it wasn't him being cut. David was right in calling his blood a comfort to his struggle, yet it was a small aid to soon to be endless pain. Michael knew he couldn't return to his family like this, not again.
"Don't be like that. I know you want it."
Michael's lips curled at his disgusting comment, throat growling in a way that could only be described as feral. "Fuck you, David. You and I both know round one was a mistake."
Michael felt tiny droplets of blood splatter against his tongue at his sudden outburst. He growled again in displeasure at his mistake, but welcomed David's wrist to his lips as the blood began to warrant the pain away. Michael chanced a glare at him, but David only looked down at him fondly, all aggression in his eyes depleted. He bit down harder for good measure, aiming to tear at some of his veins, yet the action proved to only elicit excited responses from his elder. Further amusement flashed within his eyes, causing Michael to draw blood more rapidly in heated annoyance. As David pulled back a strand of Michael's hair which had grown matted with blood he finally snapped, mouth opening so fast in protest that the blood in his throat gargled and spat. "I thought you wanted to end me."
David patted at his face casually, looking down at his palm to reveal the specks of the too red blood Michael had so carelessly spewed. Michael tried hard not to shiver as he licked the mess off, stopping only to seal the blood flow from his wrist. "How, may I ask, did you come to such a conclusion? You know damn well I accepted you as my own."
"I killed them. I helped kill them, I—I killed you."
"And for that you must be punished. Which, by the way, just about wrapped up? You're fucking lucky I have it for you, I'm going so very easy."
"This is fucking easy?" Michael shouted, indignant to his reasoning. "Ripping away all that's close to me, again? Do you realize—do you realize what would happen, if Sam—If Sam saw me now, I—"
"Oh, shut the hell up about your snot-nosed brother. He's the one who tore you away from me, you know. He's the one that's leaving a stain on this dream of a life."
"You're insane," Michael cried out, searching for answers in glassy eyes. "How did I fool myself into thinking that after your death, that you actually—"
"Gave a fuck about you? Let's see, could it have been the way I accepted you without question? Gave a place for you where you finally belonged, with the perks of an endless life, an endless love? Star was mine through and through. I only gave her to you because you desired her."
Michael raised a tired hand to his creased brow, smearing away the sweat that clumped there. Maybe David had some good intentions, but in the end he had turned lethal towards his family. He couldn't reason it, how he could sound so caring, so sure about the benefits of the darkness he had shrouded him with. How he could live with taking lives.
"I only turned on you," he continued, "when Marko's blood was spilt. Even then, even after you turned Star and Laddie against me, took Dwayne, then Paul—"
He turned his back on Michael then, stepped so far into the darkness that Michael had to squint to make out his still form. He heard the clatter of bottles rolling on the floor, a harsh contrast to an eerily silent room, minus his labored breath. David soon returned into the dim light body first, before revealing the now too infamous bottle of vampire "wine" clasped in his right hand.
"Do you remember," He clicked his tongue together in mild concentration, "Your first, solid, memory as a vampire?"
Michael struggled to see what the importance of his question held, but instantly thought back to that first night besides against better judgment nagging at the back of his mind. The bottle, the actual drinking of the blood—seemed hazy. He remembered Star's look of unmasked shock, Dwayne's silent camaraderie, Paul and Marko edging him on….Laddie being, well, Laddie. David's really heated, bright, and crooked smile. Still, it didn't seem right, it felt—incomplete?
"Go on," David whispered beside Michael, causing him to recoil at his abrupt closeness. "Think further back."
It was dark, and he remembered feeling drunk, feeling warm. It was an illusion of course, Michael hadn't really consumed alcohol, and his heart had ceased pumping blood. David had challenged him. He remembered his body screaming at him that things were moving too fast, Star there to aid his unyielding conscience. Yet, his feet carried him forward, as if under some blind influence, and the initiation began.
Michael Emerson never backed down from a challenge, especially when he knew he was being fucked with. "You're one of us now, Michael." Yet the boys still walked as one, laughed as one, and could be seen as one—Michael, well, still trailing behind. He didn't feel like he fit in at all, and he was angry. Michael was willing to do it all, if it meant challenging David's authority.
Throwing one's self over a train track, well, he didn't think would ever be in the description. Yet there Michael was, arms going numb and teeth clenching shut as he dangled over a mist covered overpass that held no sympathy. He remembered David positioning himself so his body swung next to his own, which he was sure, smile or not, was meant to intimidate him.
"Hang on!" David shouted as the tracks began to shake, noises of the oncoming train taking a deafening toll. The railroad ties shook and vibrated, and Michael watched mouth agape with shock as his hands began to slip and tremble. He was struggling with inner turmoil as he looked at the too gleeful boys around him, eyes tearing up at the smog the train was pumping out.
Paul was the first one to drop. Seconds ago Michael had only began to understand that the test was to hang on rather than simply dangle—and with the obvious dangers of the situation he was sure the boys knew the way to escape safely. Yet Paul fell, and his ears reeled trying to pick up the sickening thud that was sure was to follow. Marko was next, and then Dwayne, and Michael's heart stopped and started as he realized David was screaming next to him. He quickly whipped his head around, causing him to readjust his grip in panic, yet David's features were still the perfect depiction of calm.
"Let go, Michael," he insisted, urgency rising in his voice. "Let go and become one of us!"
Then he murmured more confidence into his ear, and with a wisp he dropped—down, down. The final car passed over the tracks, and the constant clatter above began to cease. Still, the voices bellow him continued to edge him forward.
"Do it, Michael. It's safe, come on. Michael…Michael!"
And so—Michael fell.
It wasn't abrupt either, he felt weightless. He was sure he was flying, and with a small upturned smile Michael let the wind begin to carry him down.
And then, well—he really fell.
—And it was horribly sudden, his eyes widening as his control of the situation slipped and Michael's body tumbled at full speed. It felt like an eternity, the fall. With creeping realization he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the loss of consciousness as he inevitably collided with the bottom.
Michael didn't, however, collide. Strong arms instead encircled him, and he looked up warily at that sharp and teasing smile. David.
"Almost," David breathed softly, grin unyielding.
Michael's eyes snapped open to present day, and he immediately turned to point at David accusingly.
"Before, I just...remembered waking up in my bed. I thought the initiation strange, but parts of it had to have been in my mind, I—"
"—you did better than I expected. Better than any of the others ever did, I think."
David stopped short in front of Michael then, eyeing him with the utmost appreciation. "I knew you had a place with us, before Max had even suggested it."
Michael opened his mouth to speak, but David raised a hand to silence him.
"Even after you killed my boys, I was willing to forgive you. It's why I caught you that day, why I gave you Star, why I pushed you to reconsider after you destroyed our family bonds."
David raised a tentative hand to Michael's face, and while Michael desperately wanted to break the hold he had on his gaze, he just couldn't bring himself to look away.
"Even now I am, as long as you're willing to pay the price."