-Epilogue-

Wake Up, Sunshine

Seven Years Later…

The world around Sally Sparrow waxed and waned like a camera lens that couldn't focus. Everything was too dull or too sharp and no sensation was familiar. She was either burning or she was frozen, spectrally suspended in the air or perhaps trapped within a decaying shell of herself. She was both aware and unconscious; she was feeling something but could not reconcile it with anything she understood or was remotely capable of putting into words.

She was alive and dead. What that meant, she wasn't sure, but she implicitly knew it held a degree of truth.

Most importantly of all, she could not move. She thought she felt muscles contract, she thought she saw blotchy, bloody patches dance across her eyelids, she thought she was lying down and trying to fight something, but couldn't be sure of anything.

"Sally…" a misty voice that brought a wave of eerie calm with it managed to slip through her cracked consciousness and reach her, wherever she was.

"Sally, stay still."

She was compelled to obey, to give up, and lapsed into a more complacent mindset for a few seconds.

But she couldn't stay still. She needed to fight. She needed to understand. The idea of stopping made her panic even more. She heard somebody scream but quickly realised that the sound was coming from her: she was screaming.

"Listen, listen to me, it's okay. You're okay. You're going to be fine. You just need to stay calm."

All she could do was scream. She felt like she screamed for days. She screamed because her nervous system was on fire and ice-cold, because she was convulsing and splitting open, because she was rotting and healing, dying and living.

"I know it hurts. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…"

Sometimes she was able to see things. Shadows of people, ghosts, the outline of a room lit only by a handful of solitary candles, but nothing of any substance. She was stretched very thin between clinging to that room and whatever it represented and disappearing away from the pain but into oblivion. The worst thing of all was that she didn't have the capacity to make a decision either way; she was stuck.

"You're not alone. I'm here. I've been here the whole time; I won't go anywhere."

But the voice, despite its sedative effects, was wrong. Nobody was there, and she had never been more alone.

It felt like days and days of endless, inescapable pain had passed over her before she could finally collect her thoughts.

She was staring at a ceiling. But at least she could finally tell it was a ceiling. Paint was peeling from it and there was a patch of mould growing slowly in a far corner; it was very gloomy. There were only candles in there, no other light source, and she could smell the hot wax melting.

But the panic set in again when she found she was still unable to move.

"Keep still, it's okay."

Clara Ravenwood touched her arm to hold her down. Sally was in a bed, but she was strapped down by thick, leather belts. Her arms, her legs, her waist – she was tightly bound.

"What the fuck?" she hissed.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," said Ravenwood, "It's for your own good."

"Why have you tied me to a bed? Whose bed is this?" Clara was sitting in a chair at the bedside.

"It's nobody's, just a bedroom, you're at the Lost Cosmonaut."

"Why? I should be at home. Where is my medicine? Where are the machines, where's my IV?"

"Sally," Clara began slowly, "You're… the important thing is you're going to be okay."

"You fucking untie these belts right now!" she shouted, fighting the restraints again. Clara only looked at her exasperatedly, a deep sadness visible in her eyes.

"I can't, it's not safe yet."

"No! Do it! I need to… I need to…" She couldn't conjure the words.

"I know what you need, and so do you. You can feel it. And that's why you have to stay tied to the bed for the moment. If it's any consolation, they strapped me into a big chair and kept me in a padded cell."

"You know I – I have cancer, Clara, and what have you done? Fucking kidnapped me? Got me tied up in a room in your hotel? What's wrong with you!?"

"I need you to try and calm down. If you calm down, you can have something to drink. I know that's what you want." Sally felt as though her throat was on fire and her saliva was acid. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Being in bed. But not this bed."

"We had to bring you here, where people wouldn't hear you scream. The screaming lasts for a while."

"Why was I screaming? Why did it hurt so much?"

"Sally…" she took a deep breath before announcing quietly, "I bit you."

"That's bullshit. That's bullshit, and you know it. This is a sick joke."

"Really? So if I take out this flask," Clara lifted up a stainless steel flask from the floor by her feet, "And I open it…" she slowly unscrewed the lit. A smell like ambrosia hit Sally like a bullet and she fought with all her might against the restraints so that she could get at the flask. It was futile though. Clara set the flask, open, on the end-table tantalisingly.

"It's not true."

"It's blood."

"I don't want to drink it."

"I know you're lying."

"Why? Why would you do this? What makes you think-"

"You begged me to. You begged me for weeks."

"What, and you just listened to me!?" Sally demanded, "You just trusted that I was in my right mind!?"

"Don't shout at me," Clara told her sharply. The words cut like a knife, and Sally lost her voice. "You don't remember?"

"…No."

"I just couldn't do it. I couldn't sit there and see you in so much pain, pleading with everyone to help you, to heal you, knowing that I could make it go away – I couldn't listen to that and not act… But, if you decide you really don't want to live like this, well, you could always eat some garlic bread. Or go outside during the day. Or ask Jenny to stake you, she said she would if you don't behave."

"Great. That's fucking perfect." She looked away from Clara as much as she could, unable to roll over completely because of the belts.

"You know, it… it's not so bad. Bloodlust isn't like it is in films. I'm sure you feel it a lot now, but this is the most intense it gets. And Oswin synthesises blood for me, and that's fine. It's got a bit of a weird aftertaste, but it does the trick. That blood you're smelling right now is donated, though."

"Donated from who?"

"Other Clara. I asked her to do it. I think it would be bad for you to subsist only on synthetic blood and wonder how different it is from the real thing, I don't know what kind of temptation that might be."

"I feel like everything underneath my skin is needles. Millions of needles, churning and stabbing me."

"Yeah. Sorry. It's because your organs have shut down, for the most part. It does go away, though."

"Jenny said she'll kill me?"

"Jenny isn't very happy with me at the moment. It's not that she wanted you to die, but she doesn't think it was my business to intervene. To tell you the truth, I think she might break off the engagement if there's a bad outcome here…"

"What? You mean if I run off and kill someone?"

"Yeah. So try not to do that."

Sally was quiet for a long while, stewing. She didn't know what to make of all this. She didn't remember asking for it, everything going back weeks was a haze of pain and drugs and numbness, she hadn't been afforded lucidity in what felt like aeons. At least now she was able to think. Clara only watched her patiently.

"…How long did they keep you in the chair for?" she asked eventually.

"Just a day, they had Jenny come in and explain to me everything that had happened, it was… honestly, it was horrible. But not because I was a vampire, because I hated thinking that I'd died far away from home and Jenny was completely oblivious to it. Even now, it kills me to think that we might not… every cloud has its silver lining, you know?"

"I don't have a Jenny, though. I just have James. And he's a human."

"Yeah…"

"Do I have to break up with him?"

"I don't know, Sally. I'm sorry."

"Where's Esther?"

"Downstairs. She's been checking in a lot, but you've only been responding to me."

"I didn't realise anyone else had been here, yours is the only voice I've heard."

"I think that's a vampire thing. She'll be glad you're awake and talking. She's basically the only person who doesn't think I'm a nasty, evil bloodsucker trying to breed. I've had a pretty big earful from the Doctor about that if Jenny wasn't bad enough. But, please, don't prove them right."

"Will you let me have a drink?" Sally asked weakly. She hated asking for the flask. She was disgusted with herself for desiring its contents so completely, knowing exactly what they were.

"Alright," said Clara, picking up the open flask. Sally felt ashamed and infantilised being fed like this, like she was a baby incapable of holding a bottle for herself. But the blood was delicious. It was the singular most exquisite thing she had ever tasted, and very quickly she had drained the flask like a leech. The blood was gone, not a single drop remained, but she was not quenched.

"Is there any more?"

"Yes, but I'm not having you gorge yourself; it will reflect badly on me." Clara put the flask away. "I… I understand if you hate me. God knows I hate the coward who did this to me."

"I don't hate you," she admitted. "Did you say Esther's happy about this?"

"She didn't want to lose you."

"So who decided? Just you, on your own?"

"There was a lot of noise," Clara began. "Do you remember?"

"No."

"Well, it… it was terminal. You remember that, right?" She managed to nod. "So, Esther's basically not gotten off Oswin's case for weeks, to get her to use some medicine from the future to fix you."

"And why is vampirism more palatable than that? If I'm such a liability?"

"I don't think you're a liability, and you're not in it alone, either. I know what you're going through, how it feels, what it entails, all the caveats and side-effects. But, Oswin wanted to. She really did. Rose stopped her."

"Rose?"

"She kept saying that 'wasn't how things happen.' She didn't say Oswin couldn't help you, she said she doesn't help you, but she didn't understand why any more than the rest of us."

"So? Where do you come into things?"

"Rose can't see me like everyone else. I belong to a different universe. She… she said, something needed to happen because there are places you have to be in the future for… I don't know, macro demi-god reasons, I suppose, I don't really get it when she talks about it." Neither did Sally. "I think that this is the way things are supposed to be."

"What are these important moments I need to be present for? Did she tell you that?"

"You know she wouldn't. And besides, how often does she see anything that makes sense? She once told Other Me that it's vital she attends a Halloween disco at some, non-specified point in the future, what's that about?" Clara asked. A rhetorical question, Sally obviously wouldn't know. "She's still downstairs, making sure things 'go as planned.' They've all just been arguing about you, for weeks. Probably good you don't remember."

"I'm not breathing. I'm not breathing, and I don't like it."

"Do you want me to let you out?"

"Of course I want you to let me out! I've been bedbound for… I don't even know how long for."

"…Okay," said Clara, "But, just to warn you, Jenny hung a big crucifix up on the wall right outside that door. If you try to make a break for it, it'll stop you in your tracks."

"Just let me out."

Clara trusted her. She recalled her own first day of death, and she'd been on the TARDIS, chock-full of lively and sweet-smelling human beings, none of whom she'd tried to drink from. So she thought Sally, who didn't have humans in her immediate vicinity, would manage alright. Not to mention that she was telling the truth about the crucifix; she had to get Jenny to move it whenever she wanted to leave the room, which required the disposal of a carefully chosen codeword.

Once the leather straps were all undone, Clara helped Sally, still somewhat enfeebled, to sit up properly for the first time in months. She did not make a run for the door, and Clara picked up another flask she had stashed in the room – a larger one this time – and handed it to Sally outright.

"What are you telling me? I tugged on your heartstrings just enough for you to rescue me?" she asked as she opened it to drink.

"Like it or not, you're one of my closest friends. In fact, if you discount my fiancée, you are my closest friend. I didn't want to see you go either, and not so young – you're not even forty."

"And now I'll never be forty."

"No, you'll never look forty. You will get to live those years, you just… won't be able to go out into the sun. But, let's be honest, you didn't go out in the sun much anyway." Sally grimaced. "Although, you could still watch it on TV, like in that shitty version of Dracula that came out a few years ago."

"Has anyone ever told you you try too hard to be funny at exactly the wrong time?"

"Yes. Frequently." Sally leant forward and put her head in her hands, and Clara didn't know what to do. "Are you…?" Sally sniffed. Clara realised she was crying. "Hey, hey," she began softly, reaching over and taking one of Sally's hands, "It's going to be okay."

"I know, I…" she stammered, "I can't even… the relief… I thought I was, I was going to die, and you've just told me I'm not, it… but it feels like something I shouldn't be happy about."

"Yeah… Yeah, I know, it… it's the ultimate imposter syndrome. Just… do something good, I guess. If you don't think you deserve extra time, do something good."

"Like go around and bite people with terminal thyroid cancer?"

"I thought you said no trying to be funny?"

"That was directed at you, not at me. We both know, I'm a lot funnier than you."

Clara raised her eyebrows, "I'll warn you now – if you're mean to me, I won't teach you how to do cool stuff, like turn into a bat, or hypnotise people." She nearly smiled, thinking, fidgeting with Clara's hand in hers. It took her a while to realise she was doing this in silence. "Sorry," she let go.

"It's fine."

Sally leant forward, elbows on her knees.

"Esther's downstairs?" she asked. Clara nodded. "What about James?"

"He's not here."

"Does he know what you've done?"

"Jenny told him. He stormed out, that was days ago. I don't know what he thinks about it."

"I should call him, I've been… we've been…" They had been fighting constantly for months, ever since her diagnosis, stemming from the fact she had been hiding it from him – and everybody else, including Esther – for quite a few weeks and she hadn't been able to cope with the subterfuge. It had all come out eventually and Elliott had done his best to play the doting boyfriend, but something had clearly changed a while ago. "You know, I was with Larry for just over six years. And now James for the same amount of time. It's spooky."

"You don't have to end things, it could work," Clara tried to be optimistic.

"How could it? Don't you struggle not to kill humans on the day-to-day? Isn't that why you moved to that cottage in the middle of nowhere, and why you work in a hotel with non-human clientele?"

Clara clenched her jaw, "No. I mean, they smell nice, fine, but it's not overpowering. And I didn't drink any of your blood when I bit you."

Sally touched her head, "Will my hair grow back? Or am I stuck how I was when I… did I die?"

"It depends on whether or not you count this as being dead."

"What do you count it as?"

"Undead?" she suggested, "You didn't. It's a venom, the heart has to beat to spread it. Then it stops. Well, almost stops – it beats, like, twice a minute or something."

"I'm not stuck, though?"

"No. You have to be, like, alluring."

"Excuse me?"

Clara fumbled her words, "Because – fundamentally, you're a predator now."

"…Right…"

"How else are you meant to trick humans into letting you feed on them? You have to trick them, like the snake in Robin Hood. It's why everyone in Twilight is hot."

"Wait – am I going to grow fangs?"

"You've got them already. They come in during the whole 'screaming-for-a-week' phase." Sally was alarmed and touched her teeth immediately – true enough, she had four new teeth, two on the top and two on the bottom.

"Don't they retract? They retract in films."

"That's because it's a hassle to have fake fangs attached to actors constantly. No, they don't retract, they're just… there."

"Can I have a mirror? I need to see."

"Yeah, about that…"

"Oh…" Sally had forgotten about the reflection thing. She sighed. It was a lot to take in. "…I'm hungry."

"Do you want me to have Nios make you something to eat?"

"Real food?"

"Real-? Sally, you've seen me eat real food, like, a million times. What do you want? You can have anything we've got in the kitchen. And I'll get you some more blood."

"I don't know, um… breakfast?"

Clara smiled, "Breakfast sounds great."