Thank you so much for the reviews everyone! They mean a lot. I love, love, loved writing this chapter so I'd love to hear what you think, too!

Also sorry for the late update, my internet was down for a solid 48 hours.


Nine

Rose

The scene was familiar. A rundown basement. Christian, Mia, Mason and Eddie in their respective chairs.

Dimitri was there, too. He always was.

The reality of what had happened didn't matter, because in my nightmare, it was all so real.

Isaiah went one-by-one, killing them all in inventive ways. Mia got a punch to the heart so hard it went straight through her chest, then he used the same bloody hand to wrap around Mason's throat and choke the life out of him. Eddie's head was taken between his hands and twisted until there was a sickening crack. Dimitri's punishment was boring today. Isaiah pulled a gun from his belt and shot him in the chest. The crack of the bullet ricocheted around the room, ringing in my ears.

And that left Christian.

It was always Christian who got killed last nowadays.

Because he was the only one left in real life, too, sharing my misery. He was the only one who drank with me, who had dead eyes as he watched life passing him by.

Eddie was trying. He was recovering properly. Like someone should.

Christian allowed himself to self-destruct to some extent too.

The memory of him waking me up, trying to bite me, was at the forefront of my mind even mid-nightmare.

He understood.

And so his death was worst.

It used to be Dimitri, Isaiah would always give him the most gruesome, slow death.

Now Christian got it, seated directly opposite me, watching me with those normally sardonic blue eyes that now only held a dead stare.

I struggled against my restraints for the first time, opened my mouth but no words came out. Take me instead, I tried to scream. Not him. Not Christian.

But Isaiah killed him.

Just like always.

He drained him of blood, letting me watch the life literally be sucked out of him. Eventually Christian's gaze couldn't meet me anymore, as his body slumped in the chair. Tears leaked from my eyes as his skin turned paper white.

And then Isaiah was finished, pulling his head back with Christian's blood all around his mouth.

He started walking towards my struggling form, but he never reached me.

I was pulled out of the dream by someone shaking my shoulders. I shoved at them, trying desperately to get away from the hot grip, but then I heard his voice. "Rose, calm down. Just a nightmare." His voice was thick with sleep, and I forced myself to breathe.

We were in bed together, the TV still playing in the background and casting a dim glow over the room.

I stared up at Christian, at his flushed cheeks and stare that held more than just subdued resignation, and my heart pounded. "Fuck," I muttered, reaching up and feeling hot streaks on my face. I wiped away the tears hastily. "Sorry."

"You were screaming my name."

I flushed. "You tend to feature in my Spokane-induced nightmares," I admitted, laying back down. My body shook, and I could see the worry in Christian's expression. We were close enough that he could feel it.

"Want to talk about it?" Christian settled back down, his head resting against the pillow. Our legs were tangled together, but neither moved them. It should have been trapping, but the heat was reassuring, and I just wanted to get rid of the bloody images from my mind.

"It's always the same. We're in the basement, you, me, Eddie, Mason, Mia, Dimitri, and—"

"Dimitri's there?"

"Ah, yeah." I'd slipped up. "Since he left right after Spokane he's kind of lumped in there, I guess. My dream-self doesn't seem to appreciate actual memories very much." I hoped I'd played it off well enough. "Anyway, Isaiah goes through and kills everyone. All gory and gruesome." A chill ran down my spine, and tears stung in my eyes. One fell, and I hastily wiped it away.

Christian moved, wrapping his arms fully around me, so that we were spooning. "It wasn't real."

"Mostly wasn't real." I sighed, and snuggled further into him, despite everything screaming at me not to. "It's just so graphic. It feels so real."

"I know." And he did know. And that was why he was always the one who got to die last.

Christian unwrapped his arm from me for a second to grab the TV remote and turn it off. Cold danced at my back in his absence, and I shut my eyes, hating myself.

"Christian?" I asked, not sure what I even wanted to say.

He returned to me, wrapping his arm around my stomach more tightly than before. "Yes?"

I swallowed, turning over a million questions in my head. "Do you think we'll be okay?"

He buried his face into my hair and breathed deeply. "I don't know."

I pressed my hand over his, and felt the tears in my eyes again. "I don't know either."

There was nothing sexual in our hold. Just comforting. Closeness. An understanding.

"Look how the mighty have fallen," he chuckled, and the movement reverberated through me.

"Mmm," I made a noise of discontent. "At least we've fallen together. I feel both better and worse knowing that someone else is just as fucked as me."

"I definitely feel better. I'm a selfish piece of shit, and I know it."

Which was why they were in this situation in the first place. Lying in bed together pretending that because it wasn't sexual, it was okay. "Me too," I agreed. There was a lapse into silence, and then, "I wish I had something to drink."

They laughed together, and Rose turned around in his arms, snuggling into his side as he moved to lay on his back. Christian's arm remained protectively around her waist. "The nightmares will stop soon," he told me, thumb brushing against the bare skin of my back that was revealed in this position. "They'll just fade away eventually."

"I hope so, too. That means yours will, as well."

"Mine have been getting worse, with this stuff with my mom." He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, and I tightened my grip on him. "But when she finally makes her attack, kills my friends, and I end up surviving, alone, I'm sure they'll fade away eventually." His voice was bleak, and it sent chills down her spine.

"That's not how it'll happen."

"I'm not going to be able to keep going if she kills you, Rose."

He felt it, too, the sense of us being in it together. The only ones who understood. If I was gone, and vice versa, it would be back to try solitude.

I got as close to him as possible, burying my face in his neck and daring to press a singular kiss to his pale skin. "I'm not going anywhere." I swallowed, and wished that I could see his ice blue eyes. "But I wouldn't be able to do it, either. If you died."

We fell asleep like that, pressed completely against each other, unwilling to let go, as though just losing skin-to-skin contact would be the same as death.

And when we woke up, we disentangled and didn't talk about it.

It hadn't happened.

The heart-to-heart we shared stayed in our minds, the reassuring feeling of being wrapped up with the one person who knew would never be forgotten, but it wouldn't happen again, either.

We'd done it. We'd made it clear that we needed each other.

And that meant not fucking anything up further.

We needed each other as friends.

Just friends.