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Avid flinches aways as Owen leans into his space, “If we go alone, we’re put more at risk, as you so hopefully demonstrated,” he looks Avid up and down, unimpressed.
He whimpers and backs away from the older vampire.
“Come on,” Pyro encourages from where his bat form perches on the wall, “we’re running out of time, we’ve got to go,”
He feels weak and useless, and his heart hurts at Owen’s words. He doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want any vampires to get hurt because of him, and it’s Owen. Owen the cooler, older, stronger vampire who he so desperately wants to impress, who he’s letting down by being a coward. His heart hurts at his words, and he thinks Owen staking him would hurt less than this.
But he doesn’t want to go. He’s sick and tired both from the beating he took from Legs and Apo, and his subsequent hysterical crying. His entire body, mind, and soul ache, and he wants nothing more than to turn around and continue nesting like Scott told him to do, but Owen is just as powerful as Scott, and he knows Owen hates him. He doesn’t want to give him more reason to hate him.
If he does just this one thing, maybe Owen won’t hate him so much. Maybe he’ll smile at Avid again like he did on the hill (right before he hit him). Just one little thing, one little venture out, and it’ll all be okay.
Reluctantly he steps forward, and Owen smiles a mean, cutting, smile; but a smile all the same. At least Avid can do something right, even if it makes him want to curl up and die, but a stern voice stops them all.
“What’s going on here?”
He’s never been so happy in his life to hear Scott. Pyro quickly shifts back to his human form, head downturned, hands behind his back, respectful and scorned. Owen, instead, stares down the older vampire defiantly.
“He can’t hide down here just because he got the snot kicked out of him,” Owen sneers, “we need all the hands we can get if we’re gonna take the beacons.”
“The obelisk is already turned, we were too late,” Scott’s gaze falls to Pyro, “couldn’t help noticing you didn’t follow,”
Pyro’s muttered sorry sire is barely audible. Owen, however, doesn’t back down.
“He’s fine,” Owen insists, “he just needs to get over it, Pyro and I were gonna take him down to the crypt and-”
“The crypt?” Scott asks, aghast, “you want to take Avid, who may I remind you is still wounded from his last battle, to one of the most dangerous beacons to take, while we know the humans are getting more aggressive? While Legs is out there supplying everyone with holy water?”
“Why so attached?” Owen asks, “It's not like he’s your fledgeling.”
He’s right, and Avid wishes he’d had the courage to approach Scott all those nights ago to turn him, if only so he’d be safer now. He worries that without that connection Scott will change his mind, and he’ll leave, and Avid will have to follow Pyro and Owen who both hate him into a dangerous battle against the humans who hate him too, and now he’s realizing that everyone hates him and he’s crying again.
Owen looks over at him, and he looks disgusted with Avid. He wishes he could bury himself in a hole and die.
To his surprise, Scott speaks up. “You’re 200 years old, Owen,” Scott taunts. “You really need a week old baby to carry you in battle?”
Owen honest to god growls, and both Pyro and Avid shrink away. Scott just turns up his nose, like Owen’s nothing more than a grumpy child throwing a tantrum.
“I thought I told you to take the crypt.” Scott’s voice is cold, “and I know for a fact I told you to leave Avid to rest,”
Pyro speaks up, “we just thought he’d be in more danger here alone-”
“Well he’s not alone,” Scott snaps, head twisting to face Pyro so fast Avid’s surprised his neck doesn’t break, “I am here, and you are not meant to be. If you two leave now, you might be able to interrupt the consecration before the townspeople take another beacon.”
“Avid-” Owen still tries to fight, but Scott isn’t having it.
“That’s an order.” Scott glares him down the bridge of his nose, his chin in the air, “have I made myself clear?”
Owen huffs, and knocks Scott’s shoulder as he passes, but he does indeed leave. Avid finds himself slumping against the cold stone wall in relief as Pyro follows, leaving him alone with Scott. He never thought he’d be happy to be alone with Scott.
“Thanks,” he says, his voice shaking as much as his knees. “I- I would have gone with them, I’m not weak, I can pull my weight, it’s just-”
“You are weak,” Scott drawls, gliding over the floor until he’s face to face with Avid’s trembling form. He absently readjusts Avid’s collar, and brushes dust off his shoulder, “you’re injured from your fight at the lake. There’s no reason he should have been attempting to pull you from the nest for a dangerous beacon fight, unless-” Scott cuts himself off, face twisting in anger.
“Unless…?” Avid prompts, but Scott says nothing more on the matter.
Instead, he pivots, “I don’t want to leave you here alone. Anyone could come down here, and…” Scott shakes his head, "you're coming with me.”
“Okay,” he doesn’t dare argue with Scott, not after all that just happened, not after what he just did for him, but every fiber of his being rebels against this idea. He doesn’t want to leave the nest, the cool dark crypt deep underground where logically he knows he isn’t safe, but his instincts tell him stick to the shadows and you’ll be fine. Stay quiet and you’ll be fine. Never mind that he himself can’t see in the shadows right now, weak as he is. Never mind that the humans have torches and stakes and silver weapons and their fists.
Scott, of course, can see right through him. He sighs, one hand on his hip, the other reaching up for his flared collar.
“You’re not so tired you can’t turn into a bat, right?” he asks.
Avid blinks a few times, wrapping his head around the question. “Yes, wait, no! No, I’m not tired, yes I can turn into a bat,” he laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
Scott looks unimpressed, but still holds his collar out, “if you shift into a bat and tuck yourself in here no one will see you, and then I can still go out and get some work done without babysitting you.”
He wants him to… what? He can do it but, what?
Scott clears his throat, “Any day now, I do have things to be doing.”
“Right!” The process isn’t quick. Avid still isn’t totally comfortable shifting his form, folding in his limbs and letting the hairy fur sprout all over his body, but it doesn’t hurt like he’d feared it might before his first shift. It’s a natural process, like Shelby told him. His body is now made to do this.
Before he knows it he’s tiny and small, surrounded by a flutter of magically created bats to better disguise him that Scott smacks away with an open palm and a grimace. He waits for the cloud to disperse before approaching Scott.
“May I?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to get smacked himself, but Scott just rolls his eyes.
“Get in here,” he orders, and who is he to refuse?
He lands on the outside of the collar to avoid scratching him, and then crawls inside. Immediately he feels something inside him settle, something instinctual that’s been unnerved ever since he got ambushed at the lake. The proximity with the older, more powerful, vampire soothes him, tells him you’re safe, nothing can hurt you now.
He snuggles closer to his neck, but keeps his claws away from Scott’s cold, pale skin. He doesn’t want to think of what kind of punishment might await him should he dare nick the man, accidental or not.
After that he sort of… zones out. He dozes, perched inside Scott’s collar, as the man moves around to do his business. Avid has no idea what kind of business that might be, as he can’t see outside the comfortable darkness of the collar, nor does he particularly want to. Scott doesn’t seem inclined to inform him, but this close to his throat Avid can hear him quietly humming to himself now and again when he isn’t paying attention. He hums old songs, ancient songs Avid doesn’t recognize with words that don’t exist anymore. Songs from a time long past, written by people long, long dead.
He wonders if these are songs Scott studied, or songs he grew up hearing. He knows Scott is old, but how old? How must it feel to exist in a world so different from the one you were born into, the one that cradled you as you learnt to sing, the one you left behind in your quest for ever-lasting life?
He looks up at the man, white haired and red eyed but with no blemish or wrinkle, and he knows that he will be him someday. There will come a time when he, too, will hum songs lost to time. Songs that exist only in his memory. He surprises himself that he doesn’t hate it, because at least he will carry these songs forward. Even if he’ll carry them alone.
He nuzzles in closer. Not alone if he has Scott, he supposes.
He gets jostled from his thoughts and his doze when Scott makes a quick leap backwards, and he jolts to awareness just in time to hear Scott shout, “What are you doing?”
He has no choice but to dig his claws into Scott’s shirt to avoid being tossed, and he grimaces, awaiting his reproval, but to his surprise, none comes. He’s too focused on whatever is going on outside the collar.
“Where is he, Scott?” Owen’s tired voice drawls, and Avid clenches his entire being to stay still. His claws must be digging into Scott’s flesh through his shirt, but to the older vampire’s credit, he says nothing. Maybe he doesn’t even feel it through the adrenaline of the situation.
“He’s safe,” Scott spits out, disgust and superiority dripping from his voice, and to his credit gives no hint as to Avid’s true location, “why aren’t you at the crypt like I told you,”
“Because we don’t have to listen to you, Goldsmith,” Pyro spits, and Avid tenses further, realizing the situation. Scott is practically alone, facing down a pissed off Owen and Pyro, who together might actually have the power to take him on.
He smells pine and petrichor, and knows they must be in the woods. Away from the castle, away from where any help might find them. Alone, alone, alone.
“You’ve gotten a bit big for your britches,” Owen continues, coming around Scott’s other side, so he and Pyro surround him. Corner him? Avid has no idea what neck of the woods they’re in. “Ordering us around, ordering me around when I’m not even your fledgeling,” Owen snarls, “someone needs to put you in your place,”
“My place,” Scott snarls, “is in my castle, that I built, at the head of the coven that I sired!”
“You mean the castle that I rebuilt!” Owen shoots back, “and the only vampires you sired are Pyro, who you treat terribly, Apo who’s turned traitor, and Cleo, who no one can trust!” Owen shouts, “and now you’re letting the little vampire hunter turned liability run amok around the castle, when he’s the one who turned the town against us, rallied them into a militia, and only turned because it was convenient for him,”
If he were in a form that could cry, Avid knows he would be right now. To hear Owen, who he equally parts fears and looks up to, speak such vitriol of him makes him realize Owen never cared for him. From the sounds of it, he actively wants him dead. That should terrify him, but-
“Just like you did?” Scott snarks, “he’s a vampire now, that’s all in the past. He’s ours, he’s mine, and I won’t let you touch him.”
But it doesn’t. Because he has Scott.
“So that’s it then?” Owen’s voice is cold as he replies. “You’re choosing the brat over us? Your coven? Your fledgeling?”
Avid worries Scott will change his mind. Will open the collar, revealing his position, his vulnerable form, and the three of them will hunt him down together. Will chase him, pin him down, and rip their fangs into him. Drain him dry a second time and stick a stake through his heart for good measure.
He could run, would run, but where to? The town won’t have him, and the woods offer no safety. And it's all a moot point because he can’t outrun the other faster, stronger, older, vampires anyways.
It is so viscerally clear to him that his tiny, vulnerable, life is in Scott’s often-cruel hands.
And yet. He doesn’t hand him over. Scott snarls, a deep guttural growl that puts Owen’s earlier growl to shame. Avid feels this one in his bones, but he isn’t afraid. Scott is growling for him.
Owen scoffs, “so be it, then.”
What happens next, Avid almost doesn’t keep up with. First, the sound of breaking glass. Then: Scott’s horrified, pained, cry. He doesn’t understand what’s happened until he sees the skin of Scott’s neck, red and blistering.
They threw a holy water bottle at him, one of the ones Avid stole from the doctor, and Scott’s collar protected him. But not Scott himself, who staggers away, clawing at his face, trying to wipe the burning liquid away but only succeeding in burning his hands too.
His assailants don’t hesitate. Owen and Pyro both swoop in, claws at the ready, to take Scott’s life.
But to Scott’s credit he is no young vampire, and this isn’t his first tussle. He manages to block both Owen’s swipe, and even manages to catch Pyro’s outstretched arm to throw him away with a cry.
Avid is in awe at the willpower it must take to fight through the pain he must be in, but it isn’t enough. Owen must get a hit in, because Scott cries out again, staggering away, and Owen laughs.
“Look at you!” he crows, “the mighty Goldsmith, bleeding on my claws!”
Avid can smell the sharp iron with his chiropteran nose, Scott’s blood spilt on the forest floor.
He’s powerful, ancient and strong, but Owen and Pyro are well fed. They have the advantage of numbers, and the planning to pull this off. This isn’t happenstance, this was thought out.
Them trying to convince Avid to follow them to the crypt takes on a much darker meaning in retrospect.
Instead, Scott takes the blows meant for him, and while he fights them off again and again, they keep coming back, and in the face of their incessant attacks, he begins to flag.
No…. No!
He wants to help, but if he shifts back, they’ll just stake him too. He’s still weak and injured from the ambush at the lake, and they’re currently taking down Scott, who Avid could never hope to match. He’s worse than useless in this fight, he’s a liability.
And yet, Scott still protects him. He dodges and weaves, blocks blows meant for his neck even if it means they land a blow elsewhere, protecting Avid.
It occurs to him, hopefully not too late, that there is something he can do. He has to time it just right, and he has to do it fast. His bat form is even weaker than his vampire one, but it's quicker, and gives him the ability of flight. A crucial one, if his plan is going to work.
He can’t afford to wait. As soon as there’s a lull in the fight, Pyro and Owen taking a brief respite to lick their wounds, Avid swings his bat form over the collar and takes off, flying high into the night sky.
Owen notices him, if his enraged cry is any indication, but he doesn’t follow. Maybe he’s too exhausted to transform, or maybe Scott presents too great a danger to take on such a weak form around him, but for whatever reason Avid manages to take to the skies free as a bird. Free as a bat under the moon.
There. With Avid out of the way, Scott will be able to focus on his own fight and not on protecting him, but that’s not all he can do. Straining his tiny body as hard as he can, he flies through the woods and towards the castle.
There could be humans about, and the thought sends a pang of fear through his heart. That Apo or Legs could be around any corner, waiting, stakes at the ready to take him out of this world for good is terrifying, but still he flies. He doesn’t dare hesitate or slow down, because if he does it means Scott is dead. And it will be his fault.
Every push of his wings sends shooting pains through his body, the reminder of the injuries he suffered at Legs’ and Apo’s hands not yet healed, ever pinging his instincts to remind him to hide, but he can’t. Scott needs him to do this, and so he pushes on. He pushes through the pain, and the fear, to keep flying towards the castle.
His body gives out just as he reaches the bridge. His wings fold in and his arms come out, and he lands on the hard stone with a thud. He scrapes his knees on the landing, but still he doesn’t dare slow down, immediately launching back up and into a sprint towards the castle.
Miracle of all miracles, Shelby, Drift, and Cleo all stand on the bridge just outside the door, talking, and they crowd around him with worried voices as he comes barrelling in.
“Avid!” Shelby cries, “what’s wrong, are you hurt?”
“Is someone chasing you?” Drift asks, and to Cleo’s credit they immediately pull out a weapon, looking down towards town for Avid’s hypothetical assailants. Maybe only to protect themselves in case of attack, but he’s grateful none the less.
He’s never been more thankful he doesn’t have to breathe despite the exertion, because he manages to spit out clear as day, “Owen! And Pyro! They’re attacking Scott in the woods!”
Even Cleo seems shocked at this, whipping around to face him, “What?!”
“Why would they do that?” Shelby asks, distraught and confused.
“I don’t know! I don’t know!” He replies, distressed, turning back towards the woods from whence he came, “but they hit him with holy water, and you need to go right now if you’re going to save him!”
Shelby and Drift don’t hesitate, immediately shifting into their bat forms and flying off from the direction he came from. Cleo takes a deep breath before following, leaving Avid all alone.
If he had a pulse, his heart would be pounding, and he wants to go hide in the crypt again, but he can’t. He needs to wait here, to see with his own eyes that Scott is okay as soon as possible. Even though the sky is lightening, though the villagers could come upon him alone and vulnerable at any moment, still he stays. Still he stands on the bridge and waits.
They come over the hill at the same time as the first dawn’s rays, and Avid races down the bridge to intercept them. Scott is held up on either side by Drift and Shelby, his feet dragging with every step they take, and his robes are smeared in blood.
His heart jumps up and into his throat as he runs towards them, fearing the worst, but at the sound of his rapid approach Scott lifts his tired head and all of Avid’s worries melt away.
“Scott!” he cries out, jubilated as he meets them halfway, “oh my god, you’re okay! I was so worried-” he takes in his disheveled appearance, his torn clothes and all the blood soaking him, “oh god, oh god, do you need blood? Here, I can feed you, I can-” he almost says be useful, but restrains himself. Still, he pulls up his sleeve to offer to the older vampire.
To his surprise, Scott turns up his nose. “Shelby and Drift fed me. We just need to wash off the holy water for it to take effect.”
“And he refused to wash up in the river,” Drift sighs, exasperated. She readjusts her grip on him, pulling his arm over her shoulder higher up and more secure.
He scoffs, “I’m not a peasant. I will take a bath in my castle, as is my right.” though his point is undermined as he immediately sways as soon as he says it.
“You’ll be taking a cold bath,” Shelby shoots back, scrambling to keep her grip on him as he sags. “If you think I’m doing more work for you after we saved your ass, you’ve got another thing coming!”
“Where are they?” Avid quietly asks as they begin walking back towards the castle together.
“Owen and Pyro?” Scott huffs, “they ran as soon as these 3 showed up. Cleo went back to the village to tell them all about it I suppose. Who knows what she’s telling them, but she did land a good blow on Pyro, so” he sighs. “Suppose there’s that.”
“Oh that’s, that’s good.” Avid replies, following alongside them.
Scott grumbles, “they’re going to pop back up at the most inconvenient time I just know it.”
“We’ll handle it,” Drift says confidently, and he’s struck with how much she’s changed since she, since they both, arrived at Oakhurst. She isn’t the same woman who fled the city, running from danger. Now she stands tall, and she charged into battle for someone she arguably hates, but she did it. She fought Owen and Pyro, and she won.
He wants to be that strong. He wants to be that brave some day, but right now his body aches and his heart hurts, and Owen and Pyro still want him dead, and the town wants him dead, but Scott’s decided that for whatever reason he wants Avid alive enough to fight them all, and so he runs ahead to get Scott’s bath started, humming ancient songs under his breath.