Work Text:
1 Day Post-Oakhurst Treaty
—
Apo hadn’t paused in her flight for an entire day and a night. Everything ached, but she had to get home. It had only been a few weeks of what was meant to be six months, and yet it had felt like an eternity.
So, despite the exhaustion weighing her down, she kept pushing her way on towards her home, and, as the sun rose on what would have been the second day of flight, the familiar farmlands and buildings that came into view could have had her crying with relief.
This was her home- whatever Oakhurst had been to her, this was home, and that was something else entirely. And she knew that, even in walking distance, even if it weren’t for her ability to fly, she’d be at her own house soon enough.
She hadn’t thought about what she’d say to Cherri- or, really, she had, but every word she’d thought of didn’t feel like enough. She couldn’t find the words to say everything that had happened to her, to say how much she missed Cherri, to explain herself as both the monster she was and the person Cherri loved, or to explain her mistakes.
And then it came into view, silhouetted against the sky, the roof still overgrown, flowers still growing in the boxes by the windows, the dark wood of the porch just the same as it ever had been, and, finally, Apo let herself drop her bat form, stumbling just a bit as she finally landed on the ground (she was exhausted, and holding a bat form that long was difficult at the best of times), but not letting any of that distract her from her goal.
The only thing that mattered, as she climbed the steps, as she paused in front of a door that had a cheery welcome mat- welcome in, it said, and Apo didn’t remember it being there, before she left, as if Cherri had placed it there, knowing Apo would need permission to come back, or maybe Apo had just… forgotten what their own home looked like, in everything that had happened- as they lifted a hand and hesitated, before knocking, lightly.
There was the sound of movement inside, and then the door was unlocking, opening, and- and Cherri was there, her hair still mussed, as if she’d just woken up, and her face set in a vaguely pleasant expression, mouth already opening, probably with some greeting pre-prepared for whoever she thought it would be, but, the moment she realised it was Apo, her expression collapsed, a hand moving to cover her mouth.
“Apo..?”
Apo blinked away tears. They couldn’t cry, right now, they had to- they had to explain themself. She was staring at them, eyes tracing over their hair, the vibrant crimson of their eyes, the rips and tears that littered the outfit she’d so painstakingly sewn for them (“Something to remember me by, so you don’t feel so lonely,” She’d said), maybe she could even see the bite marks on their neck, and they self-consciously shifted to hide them, just a bit.
“Hi, Cherri.” Their mouth was dry. “I’m so sorry, I’m- I just wanted to come back to you, and I’m-” They choked back a sob. “I’m a monster, but-”
And then they were pulled into the first embrace they’d experienced in months, pressed against Cherri tightly, her hair falling into their face- not that they minded- and arms pressing against them tightly, as if, the moment she loosened her grip, they’d be gone again, and they couldn’t say anything at all.
“I don’t know what happened,” She said, pulling away just a bit, just so that she could tilt Apo’s chin up towards her face (which was tear stained as well, Apo noticed, and they were glad that at least they weren’t the only one crying), “But you’re not a monster. I won’t have you saying such things about yourself.”
“No, I’m- very literally-”
Cherri’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing to glare at them. “Don’t make me be mad at you right now, I’ve missed you so much, I’m not going to be very good at it. Come inside, we need to- we can talk about this, but I just need you to be here.”
And what was Apo to do, but agree, let themself be pulled into the familiarity of their own home, so familiar and yet so distant, like a life gone past?
“I love you.”
She turned back to look at them, soft smile playing at her lips. “I love you, too. And we’re going to figure out whatever this is together.”
Apo took a breath. “Right.”
And, once they were both sitting down, right next to each other, so that they could hold each other, so that this could all feel properly real, Cherri finally let them explain.
“So, what did happen?”
And, by the end of it, if they’d cried harder than they’d allowed themself to in all their time in Oakhurst, that was only for Cherri to know. She was the only one who mattered, anyways.
“You’re still not a monster, you know,” She said as she was closing the curtains over evening, “You did what you had to, and you got back to me. That’s all I asked of you. I just wanted you to come home.”
Maybe, when it was Cherri saying it, Apo could even believe it.
–
1 Month Post-Oakhurst Treaty
–
“You planning on getting back into missions any time soon?” Another recruit, around Abolish’s age, Leyla, asked, elbowing him lightly.
He gave her a wry smile. “Absolutely not. You try being trapped in town with thirteen lunatics, all while having to wear a butler costume, and then going back to work. Besides, I have things to catch up on outside of works… it’s been a while since I played the piano or anything.”
“You would be more worried about having to wear the butler outfit than potentially facing death,” She laughed, shaking her head, “Did you get any cool stories out of it, at least?”
“I mean, I met this doctor… you know how I’ve been trying to avoid dealing with the paperwork of becoming a vampire?”
She raised an eyebrow, gesturing to her own crimson eyes and faded hair. “Don’t I know it. Wish I’d known how intensive it was before Eren turned me.”
“Yeah, well- he’s the only reason I’m not one right now. He… whoever he was before this, he felt like he had to atone for it. I mean- I would have said he didn’t have to, but he seemed pretty set on dying there, and I figured… it was kinder to let him think he’d saved me, before it all. I kind of wish I’d saved him, though. He wasn’t a bad person.”
Leyla gasped in faux-shock. “You got attached to someone?”
“Mm. No, not attached, just… he said a few things that really stuck with me. I guess I’ll be thinking about him for a while. Maybe there’s a world where he didn’t die, I don’t know- maybe I could have taken him here, and figured things out. I mean, I’m already keeping an eye on a couple of the other vampires who left that town, it wouldn’t have been that hard to add one more.”
“I mean, he was just another vampire, right?” Leyla offered, “Like, it’s sad, but… it happens. You reported, like, six deaths, what’s one more?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I think… knowing there’s a cure makes these things worse, right? There were people I could have saved. But desperation and everything, people died.” He shook himself. “Not sure why I’m so stuck on this one, I guess. It was just another mission.”
“Nobody would blame you if whatever happened there was affecting you. God knows what happened in Huntsville…”
“It’s nothing like that. I just… regret not saving the doctor, that’s all.”
They all had their ghosts, but some clung more than others. And Abolish had a feeling that, whatever happened, it’d be difficult to forget Oakhurst, exactly. There was a desperation to it that hadn’t been there in any of his previous cases, more casualties than he would have hoped for.
“Right, well, I was told to tell you to take as long as you need before you head off on your next mission, but not to dwell too much on Oakhurst. Getting those cure books was pretty impressive, you know?”
Abolish took a breath. “I’ll be back to missions before you know it,” He assured, “Just processing everything.”
–
1 Year Post-Oakhurst Treaty
–
“Hey- hello, can I trouble you with a question really quickly?”
The man Sausage had pulled aside gave him an exasperated, annoyed expression, but that didn’t stop him.
“Right- do you know of anyone named Martyn Woodhurst- about yea tall, blond hair? Or anyone with the last name Woodhurst at all, really?”
The man furrowed his brow. “No? Why the hell would I know who that is, is he famous or something?”
“Oh, no, no, he just said he lived in the capital, and that he had a rich family? I’m trying to find him, you see! We used to be friends.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you running around the capital looking for him, rather than asking him yourself?”
“Well, you see…” Sausage faltered. “I never got the chance to ask.”
The man pulled his arm away from Sausage in one sharp movement, rolling his eyes. “Seems like that’s a you problem, then.” And then he was gone, and Sausage had to glare down at his journal, which had all the information he could remember about Martyn written down in it.
“Who are you?” He mumbled, staring at the sketch he’d made of the man’s face, which wasn’t quite right, but was the closest thing he had to actual proof that Martyn had ever existed, outside of his imagination.
Even Ren, Sausage had managed to track down- a fellow traveler, someone who knew the name Renhardt Dogmourne and could tell him a little about him, someone who could prove Renhardt had existed outside of Oakhurst’s walls.
But Martyn, his family, his friends, anyone who even knew of the name Woodhurst- he didn’t seem to exist at all, and Sausage was beginning to worry… but no, everyone else had seen him as well, he had to have existed somewhere before Oakhurst, it wasn’t like he’d just come into existence when he entered the town’s walls.
A scared man, who spoke of his papa, who’d been left in the woods, a noble who came from the capital, someone who wanted to see the best in Sausage, even when he was caught between worlds and people he could be, a member of the militia, Sausage’s friend, he’d been so many things, but there didn’t seem to be any hints of his existence anywhere.
“Hey, hello- ma’am? Ma’am, do you know of any Martyn Woodhurst, or anyone by the name of Woodhurst in general?”
He only had so long before everyone who’d known of Martyn before was dead, he just hoped that it was long enough for him to figure out who he was. Long enough for Sausage to be able to remember him, outside of just… what Sausage could remember of him, in those few weeks before his death.
In the end, when night rose and people disappeared from the streets, Sausage let himself give up for the moment. It was the one year anniversary of their deaths, anyway. He should pay them a visit. If there was nobody outside of Oakhurst who knew who Martyn was, then he, at the very least, would come back to remember the man. Make sure that there was someone who did.
So, a flurry of bats spread their wings into the night, and Sausage, for his part, began making his way back to the town that had bookmarked so much of his life into before and after.
(A few days later, sitting by the grave of his dead friends, he finally wrote the line he’d been dreading: “Martyn Woodhurst, who, it seemed, did not exist, outside of this town.” Maybe, in a few years, he’d find him- but he wasn’t as hopeful as he used to be. Martyn had, it seemed, taken his secrets to the grave.)
–
1 Year Post-Oakhurst Treaty
–
“Hey, guys, can you- do you mind giving me a little space?” Drift’s throat was tight. “Sorry, I just-”
“No, it’s fine, I understand. Come on, Scott, we should go say hi to Pearl and Cleo anyways.”
Scott opened his mouth to protest, before glancing at Drift, at Avid’s grave, at the book in her hands, and closing it, instead just wordlessly following Shelby away.
“So, I’ve officially been mourning you longer than I’ve known you- by a lot, actually, but I wasn’t… ready to come back here when it was exactly that time.” Drift sniffled, swiped away the first few tears that had beaded up in her eyes. “I’m… ready now. I have a lot to tell you, actually, ‘cause you’re my best friend, and… there’s a lot I think you’d want to know. Like, Scott actually admitted he cared about you! He told me not to tell you, but, I mean… it’s not like you’ll ever be able to tell him what I said, so I guess… it’s been a year, Avid. I, um, I actually went back to the city, a couple months ago, just to collect some stuff, but then, I guess, one thing led to another, and now the Orchid Killer is behind bars.”
“I guess I don’t really have a point here, I just… you told me I was so brave, so I thought… maybe you’d want to know, that I’ve stopped being as scared of everything. I guess watching your best friend die does that to a person. Maybe, if you were alive, you’d even be proud of me.” She glanced at his grave, as if he’d be sitting there, smiling at her, telling her that of course he was proud of her, and he had tons to tell her too, after the year he’d had- but he was dead, and silent in the ground. She glanced away. “So… we’ve been kind of just wandering the world, even though we technically own a nice apartment now, trying to see everything. And that’s been really nice, having Shelby there… and Scott too, I guess, even if I’m not completely sure I forgive him for turning me- but, you know, I wish you were here too.”
Drift took a breath, gave his grave her best smile. “I guess I should finish this off with a new tradition I’m starting- and it’s funny, because your death is the reason I have so many things part of my life now, but I’d give up everything in a heartbeat if it meant you were alive again.” She cleared her throat, looked down at the book in her hand. “Hey, Drift, um, sorry you couldn’t hear this from me firsthand…”
–
“Hey, Avid…” Shelby trailed off, swallowing, “So, Drift just left. I, uh, I know you’re dead, but you said you liked my fanfiction, so… I thought I’d update you on it. I stopped writing about Oakhurst, though, because Drift said I should write about something else, I hope that’s okay.” She paused. “So, it starts with-” A sob choked off her words. “It’s a story about love making sure that nobody dies like they did in canon.”
And, as she fumbled her way through telling whatever remained of Avid- of her fledgling- the story, she couldn’t help but think that he’d be happy with it. And maybe he’d understand, too, that even though it was a story about some other fictional characters Shelby had fallen in love with, it was also a story about him, and how she wished she could have saved him.
(“So, he…” Her voice wavered. “So, when he died, and they all thought it would be forever, they saw his death happen, and there was nothing they could do but watch. Why was this happening- was it because they were all- because they were all a coven?”)
(“The moment he came back to himself, they all crowded around him, hugging him tightly and reassuring him that they’d never wanted any of this to happen.” She took a breath. “And that they’d kill everyone who’d had any part in his murder, even if it hadn’t been forever.”)
-
Drift and Shelby were nearby, but a polite distance away, allowing Scott to say anything he might have wanted to.
For a long moment, he just stared at the grave, the flowers sprouting up where he’d planted them a year ago.
“I’m trying to be a better person.” The words were simple, but carried a heavy weight. “I… have realised that it may be more difficult than I expected, and apparently, even Drift, one of my closest… companions, doesn’t forgive me, so… there’s that.” He sighed. “I don’t know what to say. You died when I was just starting to care about you, and I’m still angry at you for that. You were meant to be there for all of this.”
It was easy to pass off the blame, one of the things Scott was the best at, really, given how he’d spent hundreds of years of his immortal life.
“So, yeah. Everyone who killed you is dead.” He grimaced. “I’ll see you next year, whenever I know what to say.”
–
5 Years Post-Oakhurst Treaty
–
The trees they’d planted were beginning to actually shape up, young pines shooting up, and Pearl had started seeing animals returning to the land, which was definitely a good sign.
In some ways, it was starting to… recover. Maybe, if enough time passed, she and Cleo could help make the town actually thrive here- although, for the moment, they’d elected to both live in the forest. Not in the old town, not in what was once a castle. Somewhere in between.
It felt fitting, really, given all the baggage attached to both places. This way, they could make their own version of Oakhurst- or whatever they’d end up calling it, they still weren’t entirely sure.
She wanted there to be another town, wanted to create something here, even after all that was destroyed, but it would take time for them to be ready for that, and, for the moment, the trees were just starting to come back, and they had all of eternity, anyways.
They’d built a better cottage for themselves in the woods, and, when it came into view, Pearl let her lips curl into a little smile of satisfaction. It was lovely, the wood types blending beautifully, the little chicken coop attached to the house doing nothing to detract from its loveliness, a little cobblestone path leading up to their front door, and, as Pearl pulled her key for said door out of her pocket, she could hear Cleo moving about inside, and Oscar meowing.
The door opened with a click, and she stared down at her cat, hands on her hips. “Now, what are you meowing about?” She asked, scooping him up into her arms.
He purred in answer.
“Cleo, I’m home!” Pearl informed, awkwardly manoeuvring her key back into her pocket and the door closed behind her, all with Oscar sitting smugly in her arms.
Cleo rounded the corner into their hallway, eyes crinkling as she smiled. “How’s everything looking out there?”
Pearl shrugged. “The trees are growing. One of these years, we might start being able to get wood without going too far. I saw some wildlife, it’s been a while.”
“It’s also been winter,” Cleo retorted, but despite the harsh words, there was a softness to her voice reserved for Pearl that gentled them.
Pearl rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I also checked on all the graves, made sure nobody’s comin’ back as a zombie or anything-”
“You did not.”
“Alright, in all honesty, I was mostly checking to see if all these returning animals were going to start digging up corpses- I’ve seen it happen before, and let me tell you, it’s not something you want to see.”
“There you go, I’d believe that. I’m assuming none of them were?”
“Nah, everything looks about the same as ever.” Pearl eyed Cleo for a moment, looking for any details in their posture that would give their mood away. “You feeling alright? Not beating yourself up too much today?”
There was a soft sigh. “I’m… I’ve been keeping myself distracted. I’ve been worse.”
Pearl wasn’t entirely satisfied with that, but it was certainly better than Cleo being at her worst. “Good, I don’t want you feeling bad about yourself or anything.”
“I’m not feeling too bad. Like I said, I’ve been keeping myself distracted, and… having you here helps.” Cleo paused. “Do you want anything to eat? I was just butchering a few chickens, we could make an actual dinner of it.”
“What’s the event?” Pearl raised an eyebrow, gently setting Oscar down on the floor, despite his immediate protestations. “We have company or something?”
Cleo laughed at that, long and hard. “No, absolutely not. Having the whole peanut gallery show up once a year is bad enough, I’d have half a mind to kick them right back out if they showed up again. No, I just figured you’d appreciate something a bit nicer after being out in the cold all day.”
“Aw, that’s awfully sweet of you.” Pearl pressed a light kiss to Cleo’s cheek, pulling away with a cheeky smile as some of the blood in Cleo’s body rushed to their face. “I’m glad this all led me to you.” She let herself say it faux-casually, even as she saw Cleo tense. “There’s nobody I’d rather spend eternity with than you.” She glanced down at the calico sitting patiently below them. “And Oscar, of course.”
“Of course,” Cleo echoed, shaking her head quickly, “I feel the same way, of course I do. Wherever else I could be spending eternity, I don’t want that. I’d rather be trapped in Oakhurst forever than be without you.”
“Well, now, we can’t both be getting sappy, people are going to think we’ve gone soft.”
Cleo laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, if they do, they’ll find out exactly how soft my sword feels against their neck. Come on, let’s go eat.”
“That sounds lovely.”
–
50 Years Post-Oakhurst Treaty
–
“Welcome to Oakhurst!” A sign proclaimed cheerfully as an author re-entered the resting place of his friends for the first time in a few decades, the trees surrounding him no longer saplings, but now fully grown.
It had been a long time since he’d been around this part of the world- ever since he’d gotten that new book deal, and he finally actually had income again, he’d been busy in the capital, in the East and West and everywhere else- but now that he had time, he’d made sure to return to the place that had sparked it all.
He took a breath, slowed the pace of his horse to glance around curiously. This area wasn’t old Oakhurst, wasn’t actually where Ren and Martyn were buried, but, where once Cleo and Pearl’s cabin had stood alone, there were now a few more buildings- a reason for the sign to proclaim this place as if it were a town, rather than just a cabin in the woods.
Sausage… wasn’t sure how he felt about that, about this place that had killed his friends and changed the trajectory of his life becoming just another small town in the woods.
He saw curious faces poking out a few of the windows- a woman who eyed him suspiciously, a child who just seemed curious- but he didn’t pay them any attention, just reaching Cleo and Pearl’s house, climbing off his horse and tying her up to the fence outside, and then stepping onto the porch, pausing for a moment, before knocking, the sharp, bold sound piercing the quiet easily.
“Well, hey there, it’s been a long time since you’ve been around.” Pearl’s voice coming from behind instead of in front of him had him jumping, a hand going to where his heart had once been as he breathed heavily.
“Goodness, Pearl, you scared me!”
She looked relatively unphased, just shrugging lightly. “Sorry, I’m a quiet walker. But how come you’re here, I thought you’d moved on from this place entirely or something, it’s been a whole twenty something years!”
Sausage glanced down embarrassedly. “Yeah… I guess I lost track of time. But, no, I’m not abandoning this place! My friends are here-” He gestured to Pearl, and then at the house, hoping that that communicated and Cleo as well, “And, you know… the ones who didn’t make it out… they’re here too.”
Pearl’s gaze softened. “We’ve kept their graves all nice while you weren’t here. I didn’t mean to imply I didn’t want you around, I was just surprised to see you is all.”
“No, no, I totally get it, I’ve just been so busy with my book- it’s really successful, and I actually brought a copy for you and Cleo- but it’s clear you guys have been up to a lot while I’ve been gone- there are people living here now!”
Pearl laughed. “I mean, just a few, and it wasn’t really me and Cleo doing anything, they just showed up, looking for a new place to set roots down in, and we offered them this area, and, well, you can see how that’s turned out.”
“And you’re not…” Sausage glanced around furtively, leaning in to whisper his next words, “Worried about the next massacre?”
“Well, we were, but we’ve realised that there are all these ancient vampire crypts- basically, simple explanation, we fixed it. No more massacres, no more dangerous vampires, only benevolent ones from here on out.”
“That’s great!” And gave him some ideas for his next novel in the series! “But, while I’d love to catch up…”
Pearl nodded quickly. “Take your time with them, Sausage. If you’re back by dark, you can eat dinner with us, but no rush.”
As he left, he heard the door opening, heard Cleo asking who had been there.
And then he set off towards old Oakhurst. It was still in ruins- much worse than it had been the last time he visited, but with all the time that had passed… he couldn’t really be surprised.
There was one small walking path that wound its way to the graves, not really a formal path, but one area where the grass wasn’t growing so high and the ground seemed packed down and well-trodden, that Sausage assumed had been formed by Pearl and Cleo, and, as he walked through town, approaching his destination, he felt, for the first time in a long series of years where he told himself the reason he couldn’t visit their graves was a lack of time rather than a wish to deny what had happened, like he could actually face them.
He set his book in the space between their graves.
“I, uh, I wrote something, for you guys. Or, mostly for other people, I guess, but I like to think you would’ve liked it, even if I guess I didn’t really know you- especially you, Martyn.” He sat down, leaned against Ren’s headstone slightly. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve visited. I guess… I was scared. But, you know, I’m not anymore, so you’ll be seeing a lot more of me!”
–
100 Years Post-Oakhurst Treaty
–
Oakhurst, the last time Abolish had seen it, was a ruin.
Parts of it, he was pretty sure, had still actively been on fire when he finally got to leave, and he’d been more than happy to see it go.
Seeing it now was… somewhat nostalgic.
“One hundred years, huh?” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head lightly.
He didn’t disturb the residents of the new town that had blossomed up since everything, just made his way through the town, nodding approvingly at all the modernization of the place, until he reached Pearl and Cleo’s cottage, which was still fairly central to the town, everything else having grown up around it.
He was careful not to be seen, just glancing in the windows, checking to make sure that there weren’t dead townsfolk littering the town or anything; he’d said he should go here to check up on them, and that wasn’t technically untrue, just… not the entirety of the truth. He did want to make sure Cleo and Pearl weren’t about to just continue the cycles of violence that had haunted this town for centuries, but, more than anything…
Well, they seemed to be doing fine, so he turned away, let himself leave.
It was easy to find his destination; even in an entire century, it was hard to forget. Something about those few bloody weeks he spent in Oakhurst had left the layout of everything permanently in his mind, made it easy to find his way to the place he was trying to find.
He’d never been the sort to say things at people’s graves. Even when his friends died, either in the line of fire or, for those who preferred to keep their humanity, by mortal methods, disease and old age and whatnot, he usually visited their graves a few times, left flowers by them, waited until he could force the grief into a little box and move on with his life, and then continued on with everything as if nothing had happened.
He’d decided to make an exception for the two people he’d lead to the deaths of.
“Hey, Owen, hey, Doc.” He took a breath. “So, it’s been a century. Sorry I haven’t come to visit, I didn’t really see any reason to until now. But, I mean, I killed you, in one way or another. So, I’m here to… honour that, I guess.”
He’d brought flowers, a bit wilted now, but nonetheless he laid them on the graves.
He didn’t have anything else to say, so he just sat there, a long time, in silence.
Until, finally, he heard footsteps behind him, accompanied by a strangled noise.
“You’re alive?”
He turned back to see Cleo glaring at him as if he were trespassing, or had murdered their cat or something.
“I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”
She muttered something under her breath. “Of course you’re here. I don’t know why I’d expect any of you not to keep showing up for all of eternity. Right, let’s get you inside.”
“I’m fine-”
“I don’t believe you, nor do I care, and Pearl probably wants to see you as well. Come on, up you get.”
He sighed, but he did as he was requested.
–
115 Years Post-Oakhurst Treaty
–
“So, I got the chickens for this spring, and a couple calves- they’re all set up already, don’t worry!” Cherri waved her hands to assuage any concerns.
“You know I could have helped, Cherri,” Apo admonished, shaking her head, “And you got the seeds?”
“I did, I have everything all ready, but, I also got something else!”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, alright, so, I saw this sweetheart while I was at the market, and nobody else seemed interested, but I just knew I had to have her.” Cherri tugged on a lead tied to her wrist gently, and-
Apo brought a hand up to cover her mouth, staring at the little pink-and-white creature staring up at her with trusting eyes, letting out a quiet oink.
“Oh my God,” She mumbled.
“Did I- is something wrong?”
“Do you remember- when I was telling you about Oakhurst-”
Cherri’s eyes widened. “Oh- oh, no, I can give her to one of our neighbours-”
“No, Cherri-”
“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot-”
“Cherri, I love her. I was just- I was just surprised- she’s- can we name her Truffle?”
“Are you… sure?” Cherri squinted at her hesitantly, “Not that I don’t trust you, but…”
Apo slid down to their knees, letting a tear escape as she extended a hand for the new pig to sniff, oinking quietly as she did.
“Yeah,” She breathed, staring into those large, round, trusting eyes, “I… she reminds me of Truffle, but in a good way, I think? I want to… try again. Make it up to her. It’s probably silly-”
“It’s not silly.”
“Right. I just… last time I had a pig, I was too much of a monster to stop myself from killing her, even when I didn’t want her dead. This time, maybe I can be a vampire, but not a monster, and she’ll get to survive, this time?”
“So, you want to call her Truffle?”
Apo’s heart leapt, and, for a moment, when they stared at the pig, bringing a shaky hand to pet her- pet Truffle’s- head, they could almost imagine it was another pig, over a century ago, staring at them like that.
“Thank you.” They turned their head up to stare at Cherri. “I didn’t- I didn’t realise I needed this until now, but I really think I did.”
“Anything for you, my love.” Cherri knelt down beside them, took their hand and squeezed it. “And, for what it’s worth, Truffle is a beautiful name.”
“God.” Apo laughed softly. “I’m going to cry.”
“That’s okay.”
They both sat there a long time, Cherri holding Apo as they wept, Truffle watching on with vague confusion, and, although she may not truly have known what was happening, she stayed there, standing right next to them, a steady, living presence.
–
200 Years Post-Oakhurst Treaty
–
The soil was damp and heavy as he clawed at it, seeming to fill all of his senses, leaving him with only one thought; get out. To survive, as laughable as that was, given that he was already dead. Or, should be dead. But he wasn’t, so, he clawed at the dirt for minutes or hours or days until the endless sea of black gave way to pinpoints of light.
He dug with more fervour than before, clawing at it frantically until, finally, his dirt prison gave way to open sky, and, for the first time in two hundred years, Avid was alive. He choked down fresh air, even as his senses screamed at him- two hundred years without light, with barely any sound, without all of these sensations clawing at him, and he stood, unsteadily.
His voice had always been the thing people noticed the most about him, what gave him the most presence (what made him annoying enough for them to kill him), and, for the first time since he was buried, he gained that quality again; “He- hello? Is anyone there?”
There was no response, so he tried again; “Hello? Please- please don’t say I’m alone. Drift? Scott? Shelby? Anyone? Hello?”
The sound echoed back to him, and, for one long, painful breath, he thought-
“Avid?” Pearl stared at him like she was seeing a ghost, and her hair was white now, eyes a lovely red, but she was someone, so he wasn’t alone.
“Pearl! Oh, Pearl, you’re alive, and- I’m alive!”
“Avid, you… you died, there’s no way-”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, Pearl, I just- where’s Drift, and- and Shelby, where is everyone? I need- are we still fighting?”
Pearl’s expression was unreadable, but there was something so, so painfully sad behind her eyes. “Look, Avid, I think you’re going to need to come with me. The… Oakhurst hasn’t been at war for two hundred years.”
Avid blinked. Froze. Some part of him, the part of him that had wanted to believe this was all a big mistake, and maybe he hadn’t even died in the first place and it was all a dream, stuttering to a stop. “No, Pearl, no, no, it can’t- it’s not been two hundred years- you’re joking.”
“I’m really not, Avid.”
“No- is there going to be another massacre? I cause it, don’t I? Pearl, I can’t, I just-” His breathing was ragged, panicky.
“Hey, hey- it’s okay, Avid, it’s- you’re gonna be okay, alright? There’s no more massacres. Cleo and I fixed that. It’s 2006, and we broke the cycle. Look, let’s get you home, alright? You won’t do anyone any good catching a cold out here.”
“Home?” Avid’s voice was unsteady, small.
“Back to mine and Cleo’s place- and you’ll be able to see Drift and Shelby and Scott pretty soon, alright? They come up here to see you every year.”
His mouth went dry. “For… two hundred years?”
“Of course. You were their best friend.”
–
“What sort of joke is this, why did you dig up his grave-”
“Look, I’ve been telling you, the answer is right in here, Drift.”
“And I’ve been telling you there’s no reason to-” Drift froze.
Avid was frozen too. What was he meant to say- Drift, and then Shelby peering over her shoulder, and beyond that… Scott, he was there, too.
“You’re alive,” Drift breathed, “I-”
“We thought you were dead! What happened, there’s no way-”
Scott remained silent, but his gaze was focused on Avid intensely, like if he looked away for a single moment, the spell would break.
Avid felt the same- he just kept staring at Shelby, at his sire, and Drift, his best friend, and then Drift was hugging him, and that seemed to break whatever dam had been keeping the others away from him as well, because he was swiftly locked into a cocoon of (in)human contact, Shelby muttering into his shoulder that they couldn’t believe it, Drift holding him impossibly tightly, Scott holding him tenderly in a way he hadn’t thought the elder vampire was capable of.
“We have so much to tell you about- and you have a lot to tell us, too, what happened, Avid?”
“Well, I was dead…” He trailed off, he didn’t know what to say or how to say it, his words had once been his strongest weapon, but what was there to say about this? “But, that thing that scratched me? It… it let me come back, I was so scared-”
“I know,” Shelby mumbled against him, “I know, I saw, I didn’t- you’re back, Avid.”
“I’m back,” He repeated, softly, “And I’m never- they- Pearl and Cleo- said it’s over.”
“It is,” Scott was the one to speak this time, “I made sure of it.”
“It’s over,” Avid whispered, surrounded by the three people he loved the most, knowing that they all had an eternity to look forward to, the relief of it all letting him finally, finally relax into the three way embrace.