Dream a Little Dream, Part 3
[Continued from here:
http://asylums.insanejournal.com/city_limits/175962.html]


Gavin let his eyelids fall, blocking out the forest as Rosalyn's nimble hands wove in front of them to make sure he wasn't peeking. The beauty of darkness was that you could pretend you were anywhere, it was only as limited as your imagination, but everyone let their imagination run wild when things were going bad. In his mind a small flicker of his step mother wiping a smudge off his cheek bloomed then faded back to black. Please... Anything but that.

The werewolf clung to the notion that Rosalyn was right, and it was with all his being that he held onto the prospect of opening his eyes to something pleasant. It was difficult to measure time in a place where it didn't seem to exist, but surely no more than a few seconds before the voices and sounds enveloped him. Still unable to see, he let his other senses work for him, his ears picking up that it was Rosalyn's voice accompanied by another woman. The soft noise of material must have been the dress they were discussing, and he could smell a faint mixture of perfume and cigarette smoke, which sparked a longing for one himself.

Feeling Rosalyn's body shift from pressing against his back, he let out the breath he had been holding as the vampire's hands stroked across his cheek bones, granting him the sight of her own memory. The room was unmistakably Rosalyn's, it had that same soft feeling about it like her apartment had. Despite himself, Gavin felt the tension in his shoulders slacken off, his words falling from his lips genuine. "Elizabeth Taylor can't hold a candle to you, she still can't." Without knowing why, Gavin cleared the sudden lump in his throat, and blinked away the beginnings of salt water. She truly was so beautiful, and that man, her husband, had her and let her go... The werewolf couldn't fathom as to why anyone would be so cold as to let their wife go unaccompanied by a stranger, knowing full well that anything could happen.

Then something peculiar happened. The floor began to shake, just a small tremor to start with, before it worked its way up the walls. The women in the memory carried on, seemingly unaware or unfazed by it, even as the acrid smell that had assaulted them earlier wafted towards his nostrils. Disgusted by the stench, Gavin covered his nose and mouth with one large hand, his other already finding Rosalyn's to squeeze tightly. Dust began clouding his vision as the walls crumbled and shook, one of his boots sank through a wooden panel. Jerking his leg, he dislodged himself in time to see the ceiling zig zag with cracks, "We'll die if we stay in here!" Tugging his jacket off he slipped it over Rosalyn's head and shoulders, stopping little pieces of plaster and dust from raining on her, while his arm snaked around her. Urging her along to the door, which seemed to be locked. "Oh, come on, just one fucking break!"

That was it... His words echoed in his ears and without warning, the werewolf brought his booted foot up and slammed it into the door. The lock shattered, along with part of the frame, sending splinters into the air like wooden confetti. The hallway looked normal, at least normal enough for Gavin to run down it, pulling Rosalyn along behind him. Taking a left sharply, the werewolf realised that he had been doing the wrong thing the whole time. Trying not to think of something in particular, he had inevitably pushed that memory up front and centre. The evidence of course was that the hallway had suddenly died, and given birth to a large area that seemed to be outside. In his head, Gavin knew it wasn't real, but it looked so vivid that it sent a wave of cold dread over his entire body. "This isn't happening."

Merely five feet away was Gavin as a twelve year old boy, his step mother smiling down at him as his father halved an apple with his pen knife. Young Gavin had been grinning as he sat on the box next to his dad, sharing his lunch as the ominous black car had driven up to the Slaughter house. Tires crunched the loose gravel as it slowed to a stop, and several tall men dressed in black coats and hats stepped out. What had unnerved him the most was the way they all wore sunglasses, on such a cloudy, dark day. This was when his life changed, when everything changed, and he heard his father's voice telling him and his step mother to stay where they were while he went in to see what was going on.

"Don't go in there!" Real or not, Gavin was re-living it right now, as a man, and the prospect of letting his father die all over again threatened to break his heart. Rushing to run along side his twelve year old self, the werewolf was surprised to find no barrier as he made his way inside the factory. Wildly, his eyes took in all the carnage again, as his father's friends struggled to fend the creatures off. Gavin's heart was hammering against his ribcage with such force that it was causing a burning ache. Rosalyn had left his mind, not on purpose, but because he was so caught up in what he knew deep down was just a re-run of his life.

With his hands pressing against his temples, Gavin struggled to catch his breath as the image of his father fighting for his life swam into his vision. There was already a chunk out of his neck, the werewolf could see the thick coppery liquid spurting out and drenching his work clothes. "Nooooo!"

Running forward, Gavin collided with an invisible force, less than a foot away from the vampire who was killing his dad.

"Gavin!" Rose had followed him, her chunky shoes sinking in the pebbles outside, and then clop-clopping across the concrete of the factory, until sliding to a gritty stop. It was a dream, but even in her unconscious state, the vampire recognized the men as kindred. The sight of those ragged teeth biting into Gavin's father was awful to behold against the backdrop of other men fighting, failing, and screaming as their throats were ripped open. Death was ugly this way. Not for nourishment or seductive play, but a vengeful mass taking of lives. Death as a show of power, a point proven, and ultimately as a waste.

She saw them standing nearly shoulder to shoulder: her Gavin and the young one from years before. Their bodies heaved in tandem, in fear and in fury. Then the werewolf surged forward, as if intervening here, as a man, could make the past fade away.

The younger version of him was much smaller in frame, nearly the same height as Rosalyn. Covering her mouth with two balled up fists, she stared at the back of his head and wilted inwardly, wishing she could cover his eyes to keep him from witnessing this. As a result of it, she knew he would come to view Rose as such a killer, and the portrait was true, because she was one.

"Stop!" The vampire chased after the werewolf, using strength she didn't normally employ to spin him around and grab hold of his head. The coat fell off her shoulders. "Gavin, don't look at it." Going onto tiptoes and pressing her forehead to his, she struggled to force him in place. "Keep those peepers on me." Rose shielded his ears with cool fingertips. "We aren't here and this isn't happening. We're going to wake up soon."

The stench of the demon was overpowering now, and the dry shuffling of its greenish, peeling body across the pavement more pronounced. It drew closer. The surroundings in their peripheral vision began to flicker, going from light to dark, from the factory to the confines of her husband's study, and then to other places. The memories spun out of control around them, like a life flashing before the eyes of a person in the death throes.

The sounds of a six-year-old's birthday party. The smell of cake and a struck match and 'Happy Birthday' being sung out of tune. The chirp of crickets in a back yard and the creak of a porch swing. A melancholy recording of 'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes' playing in an empty, cold house. The dazzling purple and pink light of a sunset on the lake, water sloshing softly onto the sand. The unmistakable sound of two lovers catching their breath, whether or not breathing was strictly necessary, and their whispered voices.

"You make me feel like your girl."

"What if I want you to be?"

"It's just a trick," she said, hoping to persuade herself as well as Gavin. The terrible scent began to fade in increments. Though the pair of them didn't know it, the demon was beginning to retreat, its hold on them slipping, the energy it got from their fear receding.

The breath in his throat caught, and Gavin choked slightly as his lungs fought to take in air. The view of his dying father vanished as he was spun around, his back pressed against the invisible force that cruelly kept him just out of reach. Jaw muscles twitched as the werewolf clenched his teeth, every fibre in his being straining as he focused on Rosalyn, her beautiful face covered in concern. As she stretched up, Gavin let his head fall down to rest his forehead against the vampire's, with her gentle hands over his ears, the only thing he could hear clearly was her words.

Out of his peripheral vision, the house, the walls, the different places, they all began to flutter past rapidly. Like strumming through the pages of a book, with no intent on stopping to read it. Then it stopped abruptly... Dizzy and feeling considerably weak, Gavin belatedly realised that while he hadn't transformed, he had changed. The beginnings of it evident in his longer, sharper teeth and the thick, coarse hair covering the backs of his hands and further up under his shirt.

With a loud, heavy sigh that wracked his whole body, Gavin let himself drop to his knees on the abandoned street where Rosalyn had met him just a few hours ago. Lifting his arms to weave around the vampire's lower back, he pressed his face against Rosalyn's upper torso, and held on tightly. Moisture gathered at the corners of his closed eyes, but no tears were shed, "When we wake up..." Gavin's rough voice was muffled against the fabric of her shirt, "We find a comedy to watch, no horror movies." It was a small attempt at humour, even as he stayed clutching Rosalyn, because all he could see was how close he had come to losing her. Ridiculous, of course, because had it not been for that fatal night, she wouldn't be with him right now.

Then he heard something, in the distance... Like a crash, only it was getting closer... Turning his face Gavin saw the street around them crack and fall. Behind each segment that vanished was a blinding, white light. Just as it reached them, he felt his body jerk, like he was being pulled.

Blinking, Gavin let his eyes adjust in the dark room before realising he was laying down awkwardly with something at his side. His head was pounding, and there was the strongest urge to vomit. Moving, his hand touched something soft, and it all rushed back to him. "Rosalyn!"

The sound of her name woke her slowly. Rose's head felt fogged, as if she were emerging from an anesthetized slumber. Her hands were still balled into fists from clinging to Gavin's shoulders. She squirmed on the hard, cold floor. "I'm awake... I think." She wasn't confused, except perhaps as to where they had woken up. It was much too dark to be the street and it felt claustrophobic even before she took it in. Sitting up gingerly, she grabbed his fingers and squeezed. "Is it here with us? I don't think it is."

The 'it' would be the demon that had gassed them and dumped their bodies god knew where. The building smelled stale and similar, but it was nowhere near as potent. Ambient light came from a window partially covered in newspapers. The paper drooped at an uppermost corner and the orange-tinted haze filtering in hinted at streetlamps. It was still night beyond the walls of the building, though whether it was the same night or the next was questionable.

"We should get out of here!" she said, scrambling to get up. There was garbage around her feet, which felt like rags and wads of paper, but she wasn't sure. The urgency to get away overpowered her relief at being awake. Rose might not fully believe she was awake until they were outside and she could see three feet in front of her.

Rubbing his eyes, Gavin felt sluggish as he stood up, swaying as he found his bearings. "I don't smell it..." The words were slow as he looked around the dark room, empty, it seemed, other than a few broken pieces of furniture and a soiled blanket by the windows. "This way." Their fingers still entwined, Gavin began walking quickly towards the door at the end of the room. A few times he stepped on something sticky, but refused to look down to find out what it was.

Wrapping his fingers around the door knob, the werewolf paused, praying silently that when he pulled it open there wasn't anything obscure on the other side. Biting the inside of his lip, he tugged the door open, revealing the same abandoned street they had been on. Only just a building or two away. Without hesitating any longer, Gavin stepped out onto the street, moving to the side to let Rosalyn out. "Do you think we're really here?" The urge to run until he met other people washed over him. Anyone, it didn't matter, to prove this was real.

Linking his arm through Rosalyn's, Gavin led them into the middle of the road, his hazel eyes searching for any sign of life. Belatedly he turned his attention to the sky, dusted with bright sparkles, and the moon... Shaking his head as if to clear it, Gavin returned his gaze to Rosalyn, "Are you alright?" It was silly, but inside the feeling of being useless still lingered, from not being able to intervene.

Stroking fingers through her hair to push it off her face, she was suddenly all too aware that they had been inside one another's heads. There weren't many secrets she kept, not being the sort of girl who was ashamed of herself. But the particulars of her turning had been private before. It was a never-spoken-of thing, an outcome she was likely to pretend had been intentional. Anyone who remembered it was dead, and so the white lie would go unnoticed, unless someone went to a public library and dug through old clippings.

"Don't you go feeling sorry for me, Clyde," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not a sob story."

As for what she'd seen of Gavin's life, she felt awful. But bringing up Debbie might embarrass him. What could she say about the death of his father? That not all vampires were cut from the same cloth? That she hadn't taken away anybody's daddy before? The truth was, Rose didn't know that for sure. She was lucky the dream hadn't led Gavin to witness one of her necking sessions. Tentatively, she touched his shirt, as it expecting the freshly-opened memory to make him shrink from her. "Will you take me somewhere?"

In complete contrast, Gavin took the slight touch as an invitation and wrapped his arms tightly around Rosalyn. Crushing her slight frame against his chest as if she would disappear at any moment. In his head he knew that she was capable of looking after herself, but that didn't stop him from wanting to protect her. Vampire or not, the werewolf was certain now, that the feelings he had for her were more than just a passing fling. Rubbing his bristled chin against the soft skin of her cheek, Gavin whispered warmly at the shell of her ear, "I'm just happy that you're here."

Despite the fact that she was a vampire, even before Gavin knew how she was turned, he had known there was just something different about Rosalyn. It wasn't something he could explain, it was just something he felt, deep inside. There was so much he wanted to say, his tongue danced behind his teeth, but he thought better of it.

Shifting so that the embrace loosened, the werewolf looked along the streets, briefly he heard a car horn. "It would be my pleasure." With his arm still linked with Rosalyn's, Gavin turned them in the direction where the car horn had blasted, and started to walk. His boots a soft thump on the road.