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I wake up from a few hours of fitful sleep to a pounding headache and a feeling akin to the suck of the Humdrum in my veins. I have to drink today. I know that. I've waited too long. It's been four, maybe five, days since I slunk down to the Catacombs and sucked the lifeblood out of a few poor, unsuspecting rats.
I hate this. I hate being like this. Needing to kill to survive is a curse. It's grotesque, and morbid, and entirely unpleasant. Turning was terrible, but the vast emptiness I feel knowing I have to deal with this until I die is so much worse.
I groan and roll to my side, bones aching and muscles straining with effort. I can feel a sheen of sweat on my skin despite being terribly cold. I squeeze my eyes shut before inhaling deeply and steeling myself for the daylight.
I open my eyes to find Snow staring at me. It's a testament to my state of mind that I didn't even notice him until now. He's all heartbeat, and breath, and blood sitting just feet away from me. My fangs slot into place as my eyes meet his. I really can't do this. I just can't.
I pull my blanket up over my head and try to breathe some logic into the shooting pain that has replaced my brain. All I get is the pleasing image of Snow staking me or lighting me on fire and letting me escape the hell my unlife has become. He’s moving closer to me outside my blanket cave. He grabs my shoulder through the fabric and shakes.
“Baz, are you okay?”
“What do you care?” I give him my best snarl.
“Well, you’ve seemed off since we got back to Watford. Are you sick?”
“No. Leave me alone.”
“Right. Because you’re a vampire and vampires don’t get sick,” he muses, rubbing my shoulder in a most confusing way.
Does he care? That would be weird and require a large shift in my understanding of our relationship. No, he hates me. He must just feel some sort of duty to protect me since I’m his roommate and he’s Watford’s savior. That’s all. His hand is soothing, though, so I don’t try to move away.
“Baz…” He sounds nervous now. “Are you Turning? Is that why you’re sick?”
I don’t grace such a stupid question with a reply, instead burrowing deeper into my cocoon and letting his hand fall from my shoulder.
“If you are, you need blood.”
Crowley, does he ever have a talent for stating the obvious, particularly when it’s something I don’t want to hear. He is being unusually perceptive. He can’t know the truth. I have to throw him off. If he finds proof that I’m actually a monster, I’ll be expelled and probably disowned. Maybe if I just stay really still, he’ll go away. Wow, my brain is useless right now. Great plan, Baz.
“Baz. Will you be okay? I can get you blood if you need. You don’t need to kill anyone.”
Something in me snaps. How can he be so caring and so stupid? I pull the blanket down so my eyes are peeking out. I’m not about to show him my fangs, but I want to glare into his stupid, beautiful face.
“Shut up, Snow. I can take care of myself.”
“It really doesn’t seem like you have been, though. You’re more pale than usual, and you’re weaker. You lost a scrimmage to Dev yesterday!”
That I did, but I didn’t know he was watching. Dev and Niall are quite worried about me, especially after that. I just shake my head at him, wincing as another piercing pain shoots from my head down to my chest.
“I’m getting you blood,” he announces, and before I can react, he’s stepped into the ensuite and closed the door. What is the imbecile doing this time? Does he need to piss in order to get blood?
I really need to get down to the Catacombs, or into the Wood. I summon what little strength I have left and force myself out of bed and to my feet. I almost fall when I stand up because I’m so dizzy. I’m learning the hard way that a lack of blood is no joke. I’m debating whether I should dress properly or if the situation is dire enough to go outside in my pyjamas when I’m hit by a wave of the sweet scent of Simon’s blood. Merlin and Morgana, he’s trying to give me his blood, isn’t he? He’s going to kill me.
I stagger towards the door. Evidently, the situation is dire enough to go outside in this state. I’ve almost made it when the door of the ensuite swings open and the strengthening scent unlocks something primitive and predatory in my brain. Every fiber of my being wants to lunge at Simon and bite down, hard. Instead, I take advantage of my current weakness and force my knees to buckle. I land on my knees with a painful crack that barely registers over the depthless desire to sink my fangs into warm skin and drink until I can’t anymore. Until Simon is dead.
I shudder and try to make myself smaller, curling against my knees on the hard floor, and squeezing my eyes closed to shut out the world. I hear Simon step closer, his heartbeat filling my head with static, and I feel something metallic press against my chin. His sword. Oh, good, he’s here to kill me. I hope he makes it quick.
He forces my head upwards with the tip of his blade, and the smell of his blood intensifies. I can’t do this. I’m on the precipice between control and insanity, and I’m losing my grip. Suddenly, he replaces his sword with his hand, holding my jaw in place, and something hard clinks against my fangs.
“Drink,” he says, from somewhere far away, and I feel something wet hit my lip and trickle down my chin. It’s taking every ounce of my concentration to keep my mouth closed. And then I can’t anymore.
He yanks my jaw downward, and warm liquid floods my mouth. It tastes like life, and love, and pure ecstasy. I drink deeply, gulping and nearly choking on the best thing I’ve ever tasted. My hand comes up to grasp the mug, and he lets me have it, moving away from me as I finish it off. It’s not enough. I need more. I need it now. I drop the mug, open my eyes, and search for Simon, the source of so much more liquid gold. Before I can locate him, he throws a blanket over my head and tackles me from behind. I struggle for a moment, still crazed with desire, before his voice reaches my ears and I remember myself. I let my body go slack.
“Baz! Baz! Relax! It’s okay. I’ll get you more blood. Just calm down and give me a minute.”
This splendid moron. How the hell did he get so much blood out of himself so fast? He must have slit a blood vessel. The idiot. I lie still as he says and lick the blood from my lips. I try to speak, but at first nothing comes out.
“Simon,” I manage.
“Baz? Are you okay?”
“Yes.” That’s all he’s going to get. I need to stop him from hurting himself more.
“Thank God,” he murmurs, like the Normal degenerate he is.
“Don’t hurt yourself! I don’t need human blood. Just - let me get some rats, and I’ll be fine.”
“You drink rats? Baz, that’s pretty gross, even for me.” How he can be so nonchalant in this moment is beyond me. “I’m going to get you a deer. Stay here.” And with that, he’s up and out of the room faster than I can uncover myself from the blanket.
I slowly come back to my body and realise that I’m no longer in much pain. Human blood must be much more nourishing than animal blood. That makes a lot of sense. Oh God, I truly am a monster now. I’ve drunk Simon’s blood. Not voluntarily, but it counts all the same. When I can no longer stand the thoughts spinning through my brain, I get up and walk to the ensuite on autopilot, closing the door behind me. I do what I always do when I’m overwhelmed. I turn the shower nearly as hot as it will go, strip down, and let the heat wash away some of the turmoil. It’s grounding.
There’s a strange sting on my thigh, and I look down to find a set of nail marks shining red against my pale skin. They’re already in the process of healing, but are a bit raw. I must’ve dug my fingers into my thigh when I was curled up on the floor. Right before Simon fed me human blood – his blood. The desperation fills me anew. What if, now that I’ve tasted it, I’ll need to drink more? What if animal blood won’t cut it anymore? What will I do? How will I justify myself to anyone?
My breath comes in quick bursts, and my legs begin to tremble. I try to calm myself down with logic, but my mind is a runaway train with no brakes. It’s at this very inopportune moment that Simon re-enters our room. And Bunce, too. Wonderful. And now he’s knocking on the door. I try to tell him to leave me alone, but I can’t take a breath deep enough to get the words out.
“Baz! Are you okay?” A pause. “I’m coming in!”
Oh Crowley. This is not any of the many ways I’ve imagined Simon seeing me naked. I instinctively crouch in the back corner of the shower and pull the shower curtain towards me with a shaking hand, peering around the edge of it.
“Open Sesame,” Bunce casts flawlessly, and the door practically pops open. I cower back and pray Simon doesn’t move the curtain. He barges in and squats down to my level.
“Baz? What’s wrong?”
“I..” I stammer, “Leave.” He smells like deer blood.
“Please,” I tack on in desperation. I can speak now, but I’m more monosyllabic than Snow. My breathing has hardly calmed.
“Penny, I think he’s having a panic attack!” Simon calls.
“Well, I’m not coming in there! You know the techniques,” she responds. At least someone has a basic understanding of boundaries.
Simon’s face crinkles in concentration, then suddenly he jumps up and reaches around the other side of the curtain towards the shower nozzle. I hear the handle turn, and suddenly the water is frigid.
“Snow!” I yell, trying to somehow make myself smaller to escape the spray.
“One sec,” he says. Then the moron counts down from five and switches the water off.
“What the hell?!”
“Sorry. Don’t you feel better though?”
And damn him, he’s right. The shock to my system has knocked me out of my panic state. I take a deep breath, ready to berate him for disrespecting my privacy, but he speaks first.
“Okay, I’m going to get out now. We have blood for when you’re ready.” He nods awkwardly and backs out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him. It’s only now that I realised that I dropped the edge of the curtain in my scramble to escape the water, and he’s surely gotten an eyeful of about half of my naked body. Wonderful. Just brilliant.
I turn the water back on and start scrubbing myself with soap. I wash my hair, committing my entire focus to the task to keep out unwanted thoughts. When I step out of the shower, I realise that all I have to wear are bloodstained pajamas. I would spell them clean, but my wand is still beside my bed. Today just keeps getting better. I pull on the pajama bottoms, which only have a small splash of blood near the knee, and comb my hair out of my face. I can hear Snow and Bunce talking quietly outside, but I don’t listen in. I don’t want to know.
I brush my teeth thoroughly, trying to rid my mouth of the divine taste of Simon’s blood. I can still taste it. I steel myself, pick up my soiled pajama shirt, and stroll into the ensuite as if uncontrollable blood lust and panic attacks are just another Tuesday for me. It’s probably only minimally convincing, despite my fabulous poker face.
Bunce looks at me warily from her spot on Simon’s bed, and Snow picks up a mug from his desk and holds it out to me. I don’t take it. I don’t really know how to play this. Denial would be ridiculous at this point, but I don’t exactly want to spill my guts to these two.
“Sit,” Bunce commands, and I stroll over to my bed and perch on the edge, pretending that being shirtless is something I’m totally comfortable with.
Simon puts the mug down and then pulls a shirt out of my closet and hands it to me wordlessly. Thank Merlin. My nipples are not accustomed to fresh air.
I feel marginally better once I’ve got it on. That is, until I look up and see Bunce giving me a death glare.
“How did you get in here?” I ask. Partially as a defense tactic and partly out of curiosity.
She ignores my question entirely.
“You’re actually a vampire,” she says. It’s not a question. “And you starved yourself so badly that you almost drank my best friend. Why the hell would you do that?” She’s more pissed than I’ve ever seen her, and that’s saying something. I don’t think I’m getting out of this one without a proper explanation. I suppose a minimized version of the truth is my best bet. I choose my words carefully.
“If you must know, I don’t particularly enjoy drinking blood. I try to do it as little as possible, and I misjudged my limits this week. I’m very sorry I put Simon in danger. It was not my intention.”
“Basil, that’s stupid. Isn’t drinking blood like eating for a vampire? Doesn’t it make you feel better?”
“Yes.”
“But you avoid it. Why?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant.”
“Penny, that’s a bit personal,” Simon pipes up. Since when does he take my side? What alternate reality did I wake up in today?
“Let me handle this,” she chastises without moving her piercing gaze from my face.
I try not to feel like a child who’s in for a scolding.
“Very well. It reminds me of what I am. I do not enjoy being a vampire.”
“Hmm, I suppose that makes sense, considering vampires killed your mother, and your aunt makes a living hunting them.” It takes effort not to react to her comments, but I manage. “Have you ever bitten someone?”
“No. I don’t drink from humans,” I say confidently, then remember that I had Simon’s blood in my mouth not an hour ago.
“He didn’t want to drink my blood,” Simon interjects again.
“Very well. Promise me one thing then. You will drink regularly so you never get anywhere near that level of thirst again.”
“I promise.”
I wonder if she’s going to make me swear on such a vague promise, but she doesn’t.
“Just know that if you ever so much as think about putting your mouth near Simon, I will blow you to smithereens and then burn the pieces.”
“Understood.” I guess I’ll have to cut down on the kissing fantasies.
She gets up, squeezes Simon’s hand, and then she’s gone.
Simon shifts awkwardly, avoiding my gaze. I wonder if it’s the nudity or the blood drinking that’s making him more uncomfortable. I don’t know how to address either.
“So, uhh, you don’t want the blood?” He asks.
I ignore him and move to get a pair of trousers from the closet. A long walk in the Wood sounds appropriate right now.
Simon blocks my path, a stubborn look on his face.
“What?”
“Don’t leave yet. We should talk about this.”
“About what Snow? My vampire identity? Haven’t you known about that for years?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s different from knowing how you feel about it. I thought you liked being a vampire.”
“Why in the world would I enjoy draining innocent creatures to survive? Why would I enjoy being dead?”
“We all eat meat! Crowley, I’ve surely killed more innocent creatures than you have, but I don’t get all fussy about it. That’s part of life, Baz. Everything kills to survive. And you’re definitely not dead.”
I try to dodge him again, but he reaches out and grabs a handful of my shirt.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he announces, getting up in my face. It’s a classic initiation to a fight, but my body gets a different memo. It turns out my dick really enjoys Simon’s attempt to control me, and it floods with blood. His blood. Merlin, that’s a mind fuck.
I’m momentarily thrown by this quick shift, and he takes advantage by pushing me up against the wall beside my bed. He crowds against me before I can think clearly enough to stop him, and his thigh presses against my erection. We both freeze.
“Snow…” I say, quiet and low like a warning. I move my hands up to his chest to push him away, but he moves faster, pulling my head down by my shirt collar. There’s a moment where he pauses, looking me straight in the eyes, before he tilts his head back and presses his lips to mine.
Scratch what I said about his blood being the best thing I’ve ever tasted. His lips are a dream come true.