An: Frank, detailed descriptions of death and dead people. Dead bodies. It's a nightmare. If you don't want to read that, it's the section at the bottom.
Damon looked at the object clutched in his hands trying to swallow the rising lump in his throat. I don't do guilt. This isn't guilt. The rosary still dripped with blood that smelled wrong. Something twisted and inbetween. The blood was evil. If he were religious he might toss out the word demonic. He couldn't get the twisted image of the choir boy out his head, standing protectively behind Arienne who just looked terrified out of her mind. Then the grip his too long fingers and hands held upon her had curled, cutting into her shoulders. She asked me to kill her just so it- he wouldn't grab her. She reached out to me to save her.
Another flush of what felt suspiciously like shame gripped him. He didn't even look up when Stefan stopped angrily in front of his brother on the couch. "She's in the hospital, Damon. You're lucky the bite seems to have healed fantastically. Even Elena couldn't tell where you got Arienne. The council would've had us both killed! How much blood did you give her, Damon?"
Damon furrowed his brow. "I didn't-"
"She has a nasty flu from being unconscious in the shower for a day and a half. Its been almost four days since you attacked her. The ripples have continued to spread. Do you-"
Damon snapped finally. "I know, Stefan! I know." He met his brother's gaze for the first time. He rolled the rosary in his fingers over and over, the blood getting on the floor now.
"Damon." Stefan was pinching the bridge of his nose. "What is that? Whose blood is it?"
"Sunshine dropped it in the nightmare we just had. For some reason it was already bloody when it slipped from her hands." Damon held it up for Stefan to see. "The blood is wrong. Maybe it has something to do with her fear of supernatural forces ripping apart her church."
"Why do you care?" Stefan was sharp, accusatory. "You can't be planning to see her again."
"I have to return it. I think she needs these." Stefan's hard gaze got more critical at this and he looked his brother up and down before walking off without another word. "Grumpy." Damon muttered and stood, going to wash off the beads.
x
Arienne was not used to being the one getting fussed over. Sick as she had felt however...Arienne let herself enjoy it. They had tried to call her energency contacts since she was only seventeen and gotten no answers from Father Kieran or her dad first. They'll probably keep me until they can notify one of them I got hurt. Hearing a fluttering noise outside her window Arienne was startled to to see a large crow resting on the windowsill she'd had left open. It hopped closer as if asking for permission to come in, head bowed and dark eyes glistening. "You can come in." Arienne said softly.
The clow flitted over to her bed edging up her legs until it sat in her lap. Arienne held her breath, extending one hand with a grape in it that she was supposed to be eating. With one smooth movement, the crow plucked something from under one of its wings and dropped it; flying back out the window. Arienne picked the object up, popping the grape in her own mouth. It was her rosary, the one she usually fell asleep clutching. Turning it over contemplatively in her fingers Arienne missed the door opening.
"Hey kiddo." She looked up in surprise to see her father there accompanied by a nurse.
Before she could answer him, the nurse had piped up. "I know this is probably intrusive but I have to make sure of these things. Darling, do you know this man? He says his name is Marcellus Gerard."
Arienne smiled tiredly. "Oh yes. He's my adoptive father." The nurse smiled and bowed out, shutting the door with a quiet click. "Hey dad. Guess they got through to you."
He sat, placing an impressive bouquet of her favorite flowers on the bedside table. "I'm afraid that I'm not just here to make sure you're alright. I have some terrible news I have to share with you today. The rest can wait until you're discharged, though." Arienne's eyes flicked from the flowers to the chocolates and the word search he was pulling out and her stomach dropped into a pit.
"Who died?" She asked, her mouth full of cotton and limbs immediately heavy with grief. She was familiar by now with the routine. He'd get flowers, something sweet to help with the bitter taste, and a puzzle book to keep her mind from fixating. "It's Kieran, isn't it? He hasn't answered my calls for two months now."
Marcel looked at her like he was struggling hard with the words in his mouth and the tears sprang to her eyes as her whole being felt the grief settle like a stiff, wet jacket. "No, it's a little worse than just one person." He finally started, picking up one of her hands and rubbing his thumb gently over the top while Arienne shook. "Ari, a while ago Sean snapped and he killed all the people in the seminary with him and then himself."
She stared at him, uncomprehending for a long moment. "Sean wouldn't-" She choked up. "Sean couldn't-" Something else stood out to her and her struggling brain latched onto it in a desperate effort not to fly apart in the strain. "A while ago? How long have you been waiting to tell me this, dad?"
"Two months." It was said quietly and with a solemn weight that hit Arienne in the gut like a kick.
"Two months." She repeated, feeling sick. "Two months." She pulled free from his hand and laid back in her bed, the rosary clutched to her chest as she fought against the rising tide of pain and darkness within. "Oh Sean, what happened to you?"
"I brought you something from Camille. She agreed that you should have it." He handed her another rosary. She clutched it with hers, running her fingers over the same beads that had borne Sean through some of his toughest times.
"I need to sleep." She said numbly.
"I understand, kiddo. I'll be here. In the morning I'll get you home." He sat beside her bed and pulled out his pocket Bible, which she gifted him one Father's Day when she was five. He began to read aloud from her favorite passages. He's not even religious. He just loves me. It does make me feel a little better right now. Arienne let go of the difficult day, reality melting away around her.
x
"Happy adoption day." Camille hugged Arienne and Arienne hugged her back. Outside the sounds of a party starting up made their muffled way inside.
"Ah, it's really my birthday." Arienne squirmed a little. "But you're right. The thing I celebrate most about this day each year is the fact Marcel chose me."
"Aren't you ready for dinner? Come on. Let's go, little sis." Camille tugged Arienne to her feet and ushered her out to the hall. Arienne giggled, straightening the skirt of her dress and following her out only to see the hall was empty. Nerves settled in her stomach then, raw and tight as Arienne remembered this had all happened a long time ago already.
"Cami?" She called down the hallway, clutching the hem of her dress with shaking hands. Please not another nightmare. Lord grant me peace. Please. I can't take it right now.
"Just us, sunshine." Arienne whirled to see the man from the last dream.
"Weirdo." Her stomach tightened further until she felt like she might vomit. "Please..."
"I'm not the one in control, sweetheart." It was only slightly patronizing. "The name's Damon."
"What is this?" She whispered. "Why is this happening to me?"
Damon shrugged. "To us, actually. I was minding my own business watching televison. I don't even recall feeling tired."
"This is evil." Arienne said, the flutter of panic beginning to propogate into full blown terror. "Maybe if I just stay inside it won't get bad." She made the sign of the cross out of habit, holding on to hope she might be right.
"I dunno about that one, sunshine." Damon pushed off the wall he was leaned against and walked until he was looking directly down at her. "Seems like whatever's happening is going to do just that. Happen. Remember, I wasn't even close to asleep and here I am anyway."
Arienne pulled out the dining room chair and sat carefully, mindful not to flash her companion. "Why didn't you kill me, Damon?" Knowing her attacker's name filled her with an odd bit of warmth. I see you.
"You were interesting." It rang with honesty, so Arienne accepted it. "You still are." Arienne glanced down the hall, to where the party should be. The sounds of merriment had stopped and there was a door, wrought iron with tendrils of chilled air curling visibly off it. She stood up and started toward it, the dread starting to build.
"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." Psalm 91:4. It got me through many a terrifying thunder storm as a girl. It'll get me through this. She continued firmly forward, her hand on the oddly industrial door knob. The sound of metal screeching on metal from the other side made her heart stall, and Arienne had to pull once more from the source of comfort she called her faith. Then she threw the door open and stepped in. The smell of copper and rotten blood and meat hit her, causing Arienne to gag.
"Looks like a morgue." Damon drifted past her and started inspecting the doors. "They all have names. Crazy. Even when a vampire is in town, it's usually not enough to fill the place up."
Arienne crept closer, stepping over the puddles of dark red on the floor. They were varying shades and degrees of dryness, crumbly in spots and wet and sticky in others. As she drew up next to her mental guest, the doors began to creak open one by one and Arienne grasped the rosary in her pocket so hard it pricked holes in her hand. The trays slid out, revealing rows and rows of bodies. Arienne felt the hot desperate tears flooding down her face. The air was unbearably cold and clawed its way down her lungs as she drew in shocked breaths with which to sob. There was her father, her first friend. Elena. Bonnie. Caroline. Sheriff Forbes. Sean, Camille. Father Kieran. More were opening. There was a filled tray for every person who'd ever touched her heart and the more Arienne gazed over them the harder she cried.
They were mangled, ripped apart. Broken limbs, intestines spilling out, torn bloodied clothes. Poorly taken care of in their death by whoever was running this morgue. It made her sick and angry and filled with hurt. There should be dignity for the dead. This is blasphemous. Shakily, Arienne reached out to brush a hand across her father's cheek. His eyes shot open and one icy hand flashed up, snagging her wrist in a bone-cracking grip. Arienne squealed in pain before drawing a deeper breath and actually screaming. "You have no one." He rasped her at her. "Alone for the rest of your life forever." Marcel started to cackle. "Come here and give your old a dad a hug. Just one last hug."
Damon was trying to pull her out of his grip, but the dead guy was stronger than him and Arienne tumbled over on top of him and the tray slid shut with lightening speed. There was a split second in the stinking dark where her dead dad laughed raccously before the tray pitched and she was dumped, falling and falling. Hands came from the inky dark in all directions. Grabbing, pulling yanking. Arienne could do nothing but howl in absolute terror. This is hell. I'm in hell.