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Perhaps, I've finally died.
If so, it doesn't have to hurt that much.
Erik grasped for straws of awareness and forcefully pulled himself up, to the realm of bloodshed and despair, where terrifying nightmares came alive, cruelly painting the world in crimson. All his willpower was channeled to compel the simplest, yet so troublesome act of breathing. Hard, unforgiving floor under his throbbing head, numb pain in the injured shoulder, heavy taste of blood in the mouth, indicating that he'd probably bitten his tongue, Shaw, looming over him with wicked pretending smile on thin lips.
"How kind of you to return to us, Erik. Azazel didn't need to hit you so hard, but I have to give you a credit, you've always been exceptionally enduring. Entirely possible, it runs in the family."
Shaw squinted at Erik with the hint of unnerving scrutability, he shifted his posture, allowing Erik the view of the room and the odd burst of terrible pain in his chest had nothing to do with cracked ribs this time. From this angle Erik could not see much, but what he was able to discern in the uneven light nearly made him sick again. Charles… Damn, he was resolved, never expected anyone else to get tangled into this mess, be it another fellow hunter or… someone like Charles, annoying vampire who tries to appear overly friendly and sometimes succeeds, so Erik starts forgetting who he really is, he, no, nobody deserves this. Shaw was carefully watching Erik, when he noticed the direction of his gaze the vampire felt the need to clarify:
"You were out of the picture, and then I realized, I already had someone else there, to kill time with. Those are wonderful knives, Erik. The balance, the cutting edge is perfect."
They took his weapon? Right. Probably, demon has done that while he was unconscious, Shaw would never let himself touch anyone if he was not torturing them. Shaw's sudden icy tone made Erik blood run cold.
"Are you going to stand up when I'm talking to you? I'm tired of waiting."
Where is the demon? Why is Charles so strangely quiet? How much time was he lying there and, more importantly, Erik's heart froze — the mansion. Shaw's lackeys are in the mansion… Think, think quickly, commanded Erik to himself. He needs to get out of here right now, but, Erik gritted his teeth, leaving Charles like that seemed wrong.
"Are you done thinking, Erik, or do you need help?"
Erik will never know what kind of help did Shaw have on his mind and thanks to all deities, will never find out. He was still lying on the ground and that has saved Erik from imminent death. The sound of broken window glass and the whoosh in the air, followed by arrows were the only warnings he was getting. Shaw had to stumble under the force behind two arrows sticking from his chest, his previously human features twisted into monstrous mask with wolfish eyes and ferocious scowl revealing yellow teeth. Erik rolled to his side, careful not to disturb the shoulder more than necessary. He doesn't really care who Shaw is fighting now, as long as that someone will be distracting the monster, giving Erik a tiny chance to escape.
Charles' head was turned sideways from Erik, so he could see only an outstretched bloodied arm, lying limp on the floor and tattered rags of what remained from Charles' clothes, cut in stripes with, goddamn son of the bitch, with Erik's own knives. He crawled up to Charles closer and swore aloud, for a second forgetting that he had to be as discreet and silent as possible. Numerous shallow cuts mutilated his face, deep lacerations covered the chest and upper arms, the burns, shit, — Erik swallowed an acid lump in his throat and carefully snapped the silver chain encircling Charles' neck, the cross hanging from the chain innocently gleaming at him. Enraged, Erik threw the thing to the side without even looking. Curse Shaw and his sick imagination. Alright, that's alright… He won't let his hands tremble. Something crashed outside, and he was reminded that actually he didn't have any time at all.
"Charles," Erik leaned closer to pull the remaining demonic blade out, "I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm pulling the sword on one. One!"
Charles' body's twitched and he groaned which was the first response Erik got so far, this hopefully meaning that he's coming to his senses. He is the goddamn vampire, practically immortal, this is nothing for him, oh crap, I forgot about a silver bullet in his stomach, and there is a fucking pool of blood on the floor — frantic whirling in Erik's usually meticulously organized mind was not helping the matter.
"Erik," he strained to hear feeble whispering, Charles' eyes were not even fully opened, "Are you…"
"Yeah, it's me," hissed Erik, "and I don't know how you were going to continue that sentence, but I strongly advise you to shut up this instant."
"Ah, yes… alright," murmured the vampire — Erik noticed the flickering of golden light in his half-lidded eyes and inwardly cringed. He needs to feed and soon, if he wants to pull through. Later, he'll think about it later.
Thanks to vampires' stamina they've managed the impossible — it went unsaid that Charles had to stand up on his own, well, either that or, or nothing, really, because Erik himself was barely functional. Nevertheless, he still had to bodily drag Charles outside.
The sounds of the fight were now coming from behind the house. Erik lost the track of time; maybe, it's taken him five minutes to get out of the house, maybe, half an hour. He was not sure anymore.
When he got to the car, another disappointment was waiting for him. Burst tires. How is it even possible? Of course, that must be Shaw's doing. Erik fetched the bag from under the drivers' seat. Good, at least something's left.
"Charles, it's not time to chill out," he stammered out with difficulty, obviously the fatigue is taking its toll.
Hearing no response, Erik sighed and positioned Charles' arm around his neck; he stumbled along the road, the need to find the place to rest overwhelming. Cover the tracks, Erik, always cover the tracks — used to repeat his mother and that advice was definitely meant for situations like this one.
Erik managed to start the car, conveniently left by the owner outside the house on the third try. It was too good to be true, concluded Erik, when the fuel has almost immediately run out. He didn't pay attention to the sensors, his fault.
"Erik," Charles, up to this moment slumped on the front seat, woke up, "I need to eat."
"Fuck you," gritted out Erik.
"No, it's not like… like that. If we're anywhere close to the park, there… is this place where you can get blood. If not, then…"
"No, we're not, in fact," Erik was so tired.
"I don't want to be a burden... Erik."
Erik ignored him.
The phone, shit, he has a phone and… Oh no, there was empty space now in his inner pocket. Okay, no phone, no car, no money, and far from his allies, quite possibly dead by now, with the gruesomely injured vampire in tow, Erik is properly screwed.
Afterwards, when Erik leaned to the cold surface of plastic door in the house, he's just broken in; he was ready to laugh at himself. God, this is the craziest night in his life. Unbelievable, completely unbelievable.
Charles, luckily for both of them, was out, and Erik, on the contrary, felt restless. He went through the wardrobe, the owner, judging by the respective size of his clothes, directly descended from giants. Erik used first aid kit from his bag, with wound in his shoulder cleaned and carefully stitched due to some maneuvering, and painkillers chased down with cold water, — he went to check on Charles.
The vampire was in the sitting room. Erik was not able to make it far, so he fetched the blanket from the bedroom and threw it on the floor, it won't do as proper bedding, but Erik has already overtaxed his kindness, if someone had to notice.
"What are you doing?" hissed Erik and kneed next to Charles, taking his hands in a tight grip, which prompted half-scream, half-moan, "Are you still suicidal?"
"Erik, it burns," Charles was tossing his head from side to side, painful spasms rocking his frame, "It's burning from within, and it isn't stopping…," abruptly he started speaking some nonsense, seemingly in one of the weird languages he's familiarized himself with.
Great, now he's delirious.
However, the silver bullet in the guts can make you more than that.
It's a little bit too late to back away, after all Erik has done tonight to save him. Surely, he can put up with more.
"Okay, Charles, listen to me. Charles," he gripped his hand again, mindful of the cut. The vampire focused his eyes, his glowing yellow eyes with almond shaped pupils on Erik's face — bad news, this was very bad news.
"I'll pull the bullet out, there is no other choice — silver will poison your blood further and won't let the wound close. You'll either bleed dry, and how are you still hanging I have no fucking idea, or you'll bleed dry. No options here. Fortunately, you're already dead so, lucky you, I can't care less about hygiene and shit, understood?"
Charles nodded, not coherent anymore.
Erik fetched the bandages and the sharpest knife he could find from the kitchen. Okay, it must be easy, piece of cake, god, who is he trying to fool!
Charles mouthed something what Erik could not hear, due to the anxious pounding in his own ears.
"You bite on this," Erik didn't find anything better than his own leather belt; he briefly considered binding the vampire's arms, but, indeed, there was no time for that.
"This is gonna hurt," unnecessarily offered Erik.
True to his word, it did.
Erik has already regretted one hundred times that he didn't fix Charles in place. It would have been so easier. Damn, only imagine, he's trying so hard for someone, who drives him crazy, who belongs to the most vile, disgusting creatures of this realm, who, what the fuck, has just kneed him in the stomach.
His fingers felt for piece of metal, not too deep, good, and Erik found himself muttering:
"It's almost over, I've got it. It's alright, you're fine…"
Charles arched on the floor one more time, nearly throwing Erik off and stilled, more or less, residual tremors notwithstanding. Erik felt as if somebody up there has cut his ropes: he slumped forward, boneless with exhaustion, physical and mental, the likes of which he hadn't suffered in years.
The vampire's eyes were wide open, barely inches from his own, Erik's position leaving him in the closest proximity imaginable, Erik's heavy breathing the only sound in the room.
"Well," tiredly uttered Erik, "I knew that it was bound to end this way. Come on, don't make me wait…"
"What? Erik, what are you…"
"It's evident," Erik meaningfully lifted an eyebrow, the only gesture he was capable of right now, "You're going to bite me, end of story. Don't lie that you don't want to."
Erik felt smug satisfaction after the look in the vampire's eyes has shifted.
"Aha, you do! I knew it."
"Erik," Charles' voice weakened considerably, "you don't know… what you're talking about is unacceptable…"
Erik's T-shirt was wet with blood that wasn't his.
"You're dying, dumbass," simply said Erik, reminder of Raven's words from before fresh on his mind. And, after everything Shaw's done, he couldn't but add to himself — and this is partly my fault.
In the last moment, Erik decided that neck would be a little too much. He bared the left wrist, which he knew was scraped, so the stubborn idiot would be tempted more, and lifted the hand to the others' lips. Charles was slipping away — Erik could swear that he's seen how the last flashes of familiar intelligence gave in to hunger, and closed his eyes, suddenly apprehensive.
It hurt at first but after initial stinging came warmth. It slowly crept up his wrist, then his forearm, and even further until all that Erik could feel was liquid fire beneath his skin. Someone moaned, and Erik was not really sure who.
Too soon, the sensation evaporated and Erik was left breathless and dazed, panting and marveling what has just happened. After all, he was really tired and maybe warm lips on his wrist which later moved to his mouth were something out of the dream land. In the dream he eagerly responded and smiled in the imaginary kiss, content and in the end, at peace.
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