author's notes: an update! this chapter gave me trouble, but i'm happy with how it turned out. this is probably the longest chapter i've ever written for a fanfic series. anyway, i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed picturing it. ahum. the song used at the end of this chapter is 'Breathe' by Angels & Airwaves, check it out if you can, it inspired the final scene. i'm sending all my love to my readers and reviewers, you guys are awesome and you rock my world!
disclaimer: i own nothing. except a bit of the plot.
seven: home
Sometimes Illeana thinks that there's such a thing as destiny. Maybe everything that has happened to her in the past – good or bad – has led her to this point in her life. The point where she gets to choose between two equally mysterious worlds, neither one where she belongs, but only one where she wishes she did.
She's always had a home. First with her real parents, then with her adoptive parents, and now, especially now, she has a home with Godric and Isabel. She knows that Godric's heart holds many doubts, reservations about whether or not a human girl should really be in their midst. But he never utters a word to her about it.
Maybe he figures she can tell.
Maybe he hopes she can't.
Illeana prays it's the latter.
The nest accepts her as best as they possibly can. The humans have no problem with her, she befriends most of them in an extraordinarily fast time. It's Hugo she's closest too though. Maybe because after only a few months, he becomes a sort of surrogate father to Isabel's motherly tendencies. Illeana knows that Hugo cares for her as well.
"You cook?" Illeana's eyes go wide when she finds Hugo slaving over pots and pans in the kitchen. It's only there for the humans in the house.
"You don't?"
"Not very well," she smiles.
Hugo's look turns mockingly serious. "You have much to learn, my young apprentice," he says, but his mouth curves into a smile quickly. Illeana chuckles, loudly, a sound that's starting to sound through the rest of the house often as she grows increasingly more comfortable in her new surroundings. Her new home.
Godric would never tell her, but little by little part of him starts living for that laughter. It brings the nest to life.
It brings him to life.
The vampires in the house aren't as easily persuaded that Godric needs a human by his side. Not once does he claim her as his, nor does Isabel, so the others can't help but wonder what their nest mates' fascination is with this particular human.
"Isabel please, I don't need this," Illeana utters, the others in the room zoning into the scene in front of them. For a while now Isabel has been insisting that Illeana learn how to fight. Godric watches them from his chair in the other room, while he has audiences with some of his underlings.
"You need to be able to defend yourself," Isabel insists. "Hit me," she says. "Right here," and puts out the palm of her hand.
Illeana lets out a frustrated sigh, but can tell that this is a point Isabel won't be dissuaded from. "Alright," she says, and balls her hand into a fist. She lashes out. "AH!" she screams when her fist connects with the cold hard feel of Isabel's hand.
"That was good," Isabel says.
"Good? I think I just broke my hand!" Illeana grabs for her fingers.
Isabel walks over to her and studies Illeana's hand carefully. "You're alright," Isabel smiles softly, but Illeana returns it with a scowl. "And that was good. Next time, put more weight into it." Isabel backs away, and puts her hand out again.
"Next time?" Illeana raises an eyebrow, "I'm not going to hit you again!"
It happens before Illeana has even registered it.
Stan rushes towards her from the other side of the room, and has his hand around her neck before she knows it. "Yeah, what she need to fight for?" he says, and behind her she hears his fangs sliding in place to attack. "I could snap her like a twig."
Illeana's breathing deepens, her heart gripped by fear; she doesn't even find the strength to struggle. It won't do her much good, Stan is too big and too strong, and she can already feel his breath against her skin.
"Stan," Godric gets up from his chair in no time, but by the time he reaches Illeana Stan already has a stranglehold on her. For the first time in his existence Godric feels powerless.
"You don't belong here." Stan runs his nose up her neck, making Illeana cringe, and he breaths her in seconds later. She doesn't know what to do with the lusty desire she finds inside Stan; part of her is repulsed, another part understands. Story of her life.
"Let her go," Isabel takes a step closer in warning. "Stan!"
Illeana knows that Isabel's loyalty to her is much greater than her loyalty to Stan. Illeana can't help but realise that her presence is raising the tensions in the nest. It devastates her to think that she's destroying this home for others.
"You don't want to hurt me, Stan," Illeana reaches out with her voice, her gift less powerful there than it is in her touch. She knows very well that other vampires are watching, and she's hesitant to reveal herself to them. But she's fighting for her life here.
"Oh really? Because I'm pretty sure I do." His grip around her throat tightens, painfully so. Illeana gasps for air, but puts her own hand over Stan's.
"No. You don't," she chokes out, but she can't fight him, not even with her gift. She's not strong enough anymore. Illeana whimpers, and closes her eyes.
"Let her go, underling." The sound of Godric's voice stoops the rest of the room in further silence. Illeana feels herself being released almost instantly. She runs for Isabel's arms, and when she turns around she sees Godric holding Stan by the neck. It's the first time she sees his fangs.
Her breathing doesn't go down, not even when Isabel leads her outside for some fresh air.
"Princess." Godric joins them outside, but Isabel leaves them their privacy. She's probably going to give Stan a piece of her mind. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Illeana says. She feels Godric's cold hand on her chin; he raises it to make sure Stan didn't do too much damage. Illeana's been in the nest long enough to know that vampire blood has healing properties, but she also knows that Godric would never ask her to drink his blood.
"You can never reveal your gift to them," he says once he removes his hand again. He'd feared for her life so strongly. The hold she seems to have on him scares him. They're only inches apart. "People fear what they do not know. Vampires are no different."
"Do you fear me?" She looks up at him with big eyes.
He smiles softly; it's something she can't get enough off. "I find you puzzling," he says, and pushes back a strand of her hair. It sends a shiver up her spine. "But no, you do not frighten me." She imagines there is very little that can scare him still.
Whenever there's a time that she can't sleep, she walks around the house barefoot. She doesn't dare to break the silence but for the footsteps she leaves on the marble floors. The daytime is always remarkably calm. She opens one of the blinds, or stands outside by the pool, and bathes in the sunlight. She likes the sun, but would trade it in for the moon and stars in a heartbeat.
"She never asks you to stay with her?" Illeana asks Hugo. They're in the living room together, bonding over a cup of coffee. She likes Hugo, not just because they can talk freely, but because she knows just how deep his love for Isabel runs. She thinks it's beautiful.
"Sometimes," Hugo nods. "But she wants me to lead a normal human life."
"Have you ever told her you'd give it all up to be with her?" She doesn't know why she asks the question, but some part of her needs to know that it's not impossible for someone else to feel this way. Her feelings, all her feelings, are deep and intense. She knows that a vampire's feelings are far more subtle.
"I've asked her to turn me," Hugo's voice is low. Illeana's not sure he means to tell her, but she can tell he needs to. Part of him relates to her. Hugo knows that Illeana is one of the few other humans in this nest that truly understands his affection for Isabel. He can't read people's emotions the way that she can, but he understands this hope she's allowed herself to cherish. "We fight about it."
"You have to be patient," Illeana says, and puts a hand down on his shoulder. "They are not as urgent in their lives as we are," but she also knows that Isabel might never be ready to turn Hugo. As much as Isabel loves him, that love frightens her as well.
Godric's heart holds some of the same fears.
She knows Godric likes watching the dawn settling over the world, the only part of the day that he can witness. He's most serene at times like these, watching – waiting – for the day to set in. The cold doesn't affect him either, so he stands without a shirt. The tattoo reaching up on his back is fascinating to Illeana. She knows every one of his tattoos has special meaning.
"Godric. It'll be light soon," she says, even though he knows. She stands by his side, following his gaze towards the horizon.
"I know, princess." He smiles at her.
"Don't you think I'm a little old to be called princess?"
Godric raises an eyebrow, but doesn't speak. He looks at her amusedly. Right, he does have two thousand years on her. "Will you watch for me?" he asks, returning his gaze to the day's early light.
"Of course," she answers softly. He walks away slowly. Not soon after, she hears the blinds close behind her.
She watches the sunrise, just for him.
Sometimes, often – because she's never needed much sleep, and she can't stand the thought of no-one watching over him – she watches Godric sleep. She's glad they don't sleep in coffins, but it scares her how dead he looks; the white sheets are complements of his pale-white skin.
"You shouldn't worry so much about me," Godric tells her, because he knows she's been there for a few hours. She sits at the front of the bed, her back turned to him when he gets up and walks over to the window. She's already opened the blinds.
"I thought I was the empath around here," she smiles, mostly to herself, but the faint flicker of his smile settles comfortably in her heart.
"Yes," his voice doesn't betray his emotions. "Who am I to lecture you on emotions? A vampire disconnected and out of touch." He knows it's becoming less and less true. Illeana's becoming his connection to a world that had long since become alien to him. It scares him how much he starts needing her there.
"That's not what I meant." She walks over to him slowly. She wants to put a hand down on his shoulder, but she stops herself.
"You shouldn't worry about me," he reiterates, and looks at her. Her eyes rest in his for a few lazy moments. They share something there, a common understanding, a need for an absence of words.
"I can't help it."
Sometimes, always really, there are moments she feels tension in the air before she finds them in their hearts. There are certain things neither Isabel or Godric want her to see. She's seen his fangs a few times now, and she's all too aware what other purpose they serve. Despite the existence of synthetic blood, Godric doesn't drink it. It doesn't sustain him well enough.
But time passes and everyone starts realising that Illeana's stay will probably become permanent.
One day, she walks in on Godric feeding on a human.
It's disturbing enough to send her running from the room, her hand covering her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Tears shoot in her eyes, stinging.
she remembers
It's not the feeding that gets to her, she knows it's the only way for him to survive. It's not even the thick blood dripping sluggishly from his chin.
the way her tiny hand once patted down in something red and gooey
It's what the image of him feeding awakens inside of her.
screaming, and chokes of horrific pain
feelings of lust she could never understand before
She knows she's seen it somewhere before, long ago, with more fear surrounding her. Her parents screaming for help, and begging the vampires that invaded their home to leave their little girl alive. Little did they know, that once their blood was drained, and the vampires moved on to their dessert, it's their little girl that told them she was not to be harmed.
just because her little hand rested on their skin for mere seconds
How powerful she was, even then.
Most nights, when she manages to catch some sleep, images play behind her eyes that upon waking make her wish she'd never fallen asleep in the first place. She can control her fears when she's awake, but during the day, when she does sleep, her subconscious mind plays cruel tricks on her. Sometimes such gruesome scenarios that she tries to avoid sleep altogether.
Godric wakes in the middle of his own slumber to find her already there with him. He doesn't say anything. He knows all too well about what she dreams.
"What do you dream about?" he asks still. Sometimes talking helps, especially for humans. He hasn't thought like a human for two millennia, but for Illeana he's willing to try.
"It's not..." she shakes her head, her back still – always – turned towards him. It's as if she feels like she's intruding somewhere she's not supposed to, but can't refrain herself from doing so. "It's not important."
"Your parents," he says, but all he ever sees of them is their lifeless bodies right next to a four year old in a pink frilly dress. He feels truly sorry for her, and he hopes, prays almost, that his heart conveys the same sentiment. "Do you dream of the ones that took them from you?" he asks.
"Sometimes," she whispers, and he swears he can almost hear it when fresh tears touch her eyes. He's never seen her quite so vulnerable since she was four years old. Just like then, he wants to wrap his arms around her, conjure up a coin from behind her ear and make her smile again. But he knows that now, so many years later, it's not magic tricks that can comfort her.
"Lay with me," he says softly. A fraction of a second he allows himself the selfless hope that she didn't hear him, but that's almost instantly replaced by the selfish desire that her heart blossoms at his request, and she'll lay down in his arms willingly.
Illeana turns slowly, her brow furrowed in a frown. She doesn't believe what she's hearing.
Please he means to add, but whatever is still rational inside him restrains him from speaking the word.
Illeana hesitates. For a second there she doesn't allow herself to believe her own ears, let alone her own feelings. Did she hear him ask to lay down by his side? To sleep in his bed, to share his dreams with him? To share in a routine that would bring her closer to becoming one of them?
She doesn't speak when she moves – slowly – towards where he's laying on the bed. He helps her get under the covers.
She puts her head down on his shoulder gently, and she feels him smelling her hair. He thinks she smells of daytime.
"Do you dream?" she asks him softly, putting down a hand on his chest. His hand moves to cover hers. She feels warm in his arms, just like he feels cool to her.
He imagines he'd dream of sunshine. Or her.
"No," he says quietly. "No brainwaves remember?"
"Emotions are brainwaves too," she raises her head slightly to look up into his eyes. Damn those eyes, those pale-blue fountains of history. "How come I can read your emotions?
"Emotions are also chemical reactions. My body has those." He turns his gaze towards the ceiling. He's not embarrassed to talk to her about this subject, but he's not as at ease as he could be. "Just like yours does."
She knows what he's trying to avoid saying.
"Like hunger," she whispers.
"Like hunger," he echoes.
did you know that i love you?
come and lay with me.
i love you.
and all this day, i will love you.
you make me feel alive,
and i'll love you
until the end of time.
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