Nightshade: A SimLit | Chapter 118: Don't Fear The Reaper

 

Amelia's fall was broken by the strong arms wrapped around her as they hit the ground hard, the portal that was now behind them rapidly dimming before it, too, destroyed itself. For a moment, the shock left her numb; and then the emotions all hit her at once. She felt her body being pulled upright as she broke down into sobs, clinging desperately to the only thing in the entire world she had left. 

"I'm here," Onyx whispered, not knowing what else to say to console her, "I'm right here, y-you're going to be okay..."

Amelia buried her face in his shoulder, her grip around him tightening. "They're all gone," she sobbed, "nothing is going to be okay..."

"...I know, but..."

"I-I promised him I wouldn't let him fall," she strained, "He was right there. His hand was right there, and then it just... slipped. I let him die! O-Onyx, I let him... I..."

Her sentence was reduced to incoherency as she sank down into his lap, not having the strength to stay upright anymore. No amount of comfort he offered her could dull the pain that stabbed into her chest like a thousand knives. Everyone else in the entire world she loved -- they were gone forever. How could she face eternity without the family she had both formed by blood and found by chance? What was life worth without Orion's warm smile that could light up a whole room like the sun? Without Skylar's incessant worrying over every stupid shenanigan the group often got themselves into when they were together? Without Aurora's almost-endearing propensity for whining and complaining that she'd never hear again?

What was life worth without Alexander, who had been by her side nearly since her life had begun in the first place? How would she live without ever again seeing his face, or hearing his voice, or getting mad at him over the stupidest things like sisters always did? Without greeting him at the door when he came over for a visit with a bone-crushing hug that he'd insist was hurting him, but then just come back for another when she let go? He was just as much a piece of her as Onyx was, and even as much as she told him that she loved him, it would never feel like it had been enough. She didn't just love him, she needed him there with her, just like he'd always been.

Like he would never be again.

---

Nothingness.

When Damon opened his eyes, it's all he could see. There was no solid ground beneath his feet, only the endless void that engulfed him from all directions. But nothingness was a welcome feeling at this point; peaceful, inviting, not like the burning of fire or the choking of thick smoke. Was this all that death really was, after all? An eternal abyss he could allow himself to slip away into? His feet felt the pull to move even though there was nowhere to go, their steps echoing in his ears -- echoing on what, he didn't know.

 "Where am I?"

He didn't know who he was asking, nor why, but he certainly didn't expect the answer that came.

"Between."

Damon turned to the source of the deep, rumbling voice, body tensing when he saw the entity that stared back at him. "Between... what?"

"Life and Death," they said. "Heaven and Hell."

"Why am I here?"

"Because it is not so easy to determine where you should be. Tell me, are you the monster that died tonight, or the man that died many years ago?" 

"...I don't know," he quietly replied. 

"Where do you belong?"

"Nowhere." 

"What do you deserve?"

"Nothing."

"What do you desire?"

Damon hung his head, staring down into the abyss below. "...to let go."

A frail, bony hand outstretched toward him in the dark. The entity's eyes were the only source of light, a beacon to guide his way. "Then surrender yourself to the darkness." 

Damon didn't need time to think it through. He accepted it the moment it was spoken, resigned himself to it; he wanted to burn the monstrous soul that tormented him in the purifying flames of Hell itself until there was nothing left, until he could fade away into a dark, empty eternity. 

He was ready. 

He reached out, edging closer and closer to his fate, only the sound of his footsteps following him. 

"Damon..."

He froze.

There was no mistaking the voice; warm and soothing, gently calling out to him from the void. But it couldn't be. It must have been deathbed visions he was seeing now, mere figments of his imagination, a desperate attempt to lull him into a final sleep by his body's dying subconscious. 

"Damon," the voice repeated, closer this time.

Damon couldn't resist the call. He was afraid when he turned; afraid that he would see nothing but the darkness that had been there before. 

But an illuminated hand reached out to him, a pair of familiar blue eyes meeting his. 

"Jesse," Damon said softly, delicately, like uttering his name would make him go away again.

"You don't have to go with him." Jesse smiled, taking a few steps closer. "You don't have to be afraid of the dark anymore."

"I-Is it really you?" He, too, stepped closer, nearly stumbling over his own feet. "Are you... really here?"

"I'm really here," he said. "I never left."

The tears were already welling in his eyes. "J-Jesse... I'm so sorry, I..."

Jesse stood only inches away now, still not taking his eyes off of Damon's. "I already know, and you're already forgiven."

The tears ran down his cheeks. "I-I don't deserve forgiveness! I deserve to go with him, to pay for all that I've done and go where I belong--"

"You belong with me."

Damon sobbed silently, the words struggling to soak in. He didn't understand; how could Jesse say that after what he had done? 

"You can be free of the pain that you've lived in for so long," he continued. "You slayed the monster, Damon. You overcame the darkness. Now, you only have to overcome the hatred you hold for yourself. You have to forgive."

"How?" Damon choked out. "How can I forgive myself?"

"Because I forgave you the moment I died," he said softly. "I never stopped loving you. I always have. I always will."

Damon's eyes fell to the hand outstretched to him, within his grasp for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "I..."

"Take my hand. Please... come home with me."

Home. A place he'd never owned; somewhere he'd never been. He'd dreamed of it years ago, not the crappy apartment complex they'd lived in, but a real home, where Jesse would greet him at the door after he came home from a well paying nine-to-five with a too-tight hug as he kicked his shoes off; where they'd have a nice kitchen for Damon to burn their dinner in and a studio for Jesse to serenade him with skilled hands on guitar strings and then, later, on him; where long winter nights would be spent in each other's embrace, bodies intertwined and the metal of the matching rings on their fingers scraping against each other...

But now his dreams were simpler; to hold Jesse in his arms one more time would be enough, and home would be anywhere as long as they were together.

Damon reached out gingerly, placing a cold hand into Jesse's warm, alive one, the sensation melting away all of the fear and doubts that remained. "I never stopped loving you, either. I missed you, Jesse... I missed you so much."

Jesse smiled, hand gently squeezing his before pulling him into his arms -- an embrace Damon hadn't felt in so long, he'd almost forgotten how good it felt. "I missed you, too."

---

One week.

That's how long it had been since her narrow escape from the Realm of Magic, but it felt more like years, decades, centuries. Time crawled by in slow motion, every painstaking second harder to endure than the last. If anyone else she knew had made it out alive, they were doing the same thing she was: hiding. She'd spent days wondering if she and Onyx were even safe here, or safe anywhere; if maybe someone would show up at the door one day to finish them off. Somehow, the thought didn't worry her. Death sounded like a mercy.

"Amelia?"

The sound of her name didn't even register in her ears. She was too absorbed in the book she was holding.

The end of the couch shifted as Onyx sat at her feet, quietly considering what to say. "...you should drink something. I'm really worried about you, you can't keep going like this..."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Just one plasma fruit," he suggested. "And maybe take a shower, I'm sure you'd feel a little better with some fresh clothes?"

Her grip on the book tightened. "I-I'm not taking this off."

"Honey, you've been wearing that since the day after--"

"T-This was Alexander's sweater," she interrupted. "He left it in the guest room the last time he stayed over. It... still smells like him. I-I think it's the fabric softener, or something..."

Onyx's heart sank. "Do you need to talk about what happened?"

"Maybe I do, but... I-I can't. Not right now."

"Okay." He looked away, desperate to change the subject.  "...hey, what are you reading?"

"Encyclopedia Vampirica," she murmured, not tearing her eyes away from the pages.

"Is there information you're looking for?" He could have guessed the answer, but he needed to hear her say it.

"...how to make the vampire cure." There was a tense silence between them after that. Slowly, she lowered the book and let it clatter onto the floor below her, sitting up. "T-That's... ridiculous to even suggest. I'm sorry, I just..."

He moved closer when he saw the tears that stained her cheeks. "No, darling, it's not ridiculous. We can talk about it..."

"I-I just... can't find it in me to live forever anymore," she said quietly. "Alexander, the kids, our friends... I'll never see them again. And now it's just you and I, and I... I don't know what to do anymore. Every day is so hard... I can't face an eternity living like this."

His arm wrapped around her shoulders. It was hard for him to bite back his own tears, but she needed him to be strong. "I know how you feel. I miss them, too... but are you sure? Things could get better someday. Maybe it would take a long time, but... we... we could be okay again. Life could be okay again."

Their eyes met and his hand found hers. 

"...there's never been a life for me without Alexander. How could it ever be okay again?" Amelia said quietly. "I'm... tired, Onyx."

The woman that he had known for so long -- strong, brave, determined -- had died that day, too, and this was all that was left. It was a crushing realization.

"I think," he reluctantly began, "the only ingredient we're missing for the cure is Wolfsbane."

She nodded. "It grows in Forgotten Hollow. If we used bat form to travel, we could be there and back in a few hours. It might be the safest way to go somewhere like that right now, too... in case they're looking. But... a-are you really sure you can do this?"

"I would do anything for you, my love."

"But you've always been a vampire," Amelia said. "It... it feels unfair to expect you to..."

"Wherever you go, I'll always follow," he said, pulling her closer until she leaned against him. "Always."

---

The trip to Forgotten Hollow was, luckily, uneventful. With a handful of Wolfsbane flowers in tow, the pair made it back home in plenty of time to prepare the cure by nightfall. The recipe was surprisingly simple; equal parts garlic, plasma fruit and wolfsbane. Onyx was not looking forward to drinking what was essentially garlic-flavored fruit juice, but if it was the only way...

"Ready?" Amelia asked, glancing up to meet his nervous gaze.

"...ready as I'll ever be."

"Okay," she said, holding up her glass for a toast. "To mortality."

Their glasses clinked together. "To mortality," he repeated. 

The glasses slowly raised to their lips. He fought the urge to gag the moment the vile concoction hit his tongue, barely managing to swallow it all down. His throat burned, a horrible sensation that was rapidly spreading through the rest of his body and intensifying like fire.

Amelia barely noticed, her nose crinkling in disgust as she lowered the glass. "That was gross," she said woozily, "a-and... now I feel kind of... strange, like I might..."

The pain was so deafening he didn't even hear himself scream. It was like every fiber of his being was ripping itself apart and then stitching back together, a thousand pins and needles slowly stabbing down his body. His vision faded at the edges, first, and then went entirely dark as he buckled to his knees.

"Onyx!?" Amelia's voice was distorted in his ears as she barely managed to stay upright herself.

He started to wonder if the misery had an end. 

He collapsed lifelessly at the same time that Amelia did. In the last seconds of her consciousness, she reached out, and then the world around her faded to black.

_____

"Onyx...? Onyx, please wake up!"

An incessant shaking snapped him back to his senses. He jolted awake, taking a deep, strained breath. "A-Amelia...?"

His vision finally focused on her, worriedly kneeling by his side. "A-Are you okay?" Her voice shook as she spoke. "You were out for an hour. When I woke up, I... couldn't even feel your pulse, and I thought..."

"I think so," he said softly, "just a little weak..."

"...I went back to read more about the detransformation process," she said. "The encyclopedia said it was much harder on a natural vampire than a turned one. I-I shouldn't have put you through this..."

He forced a smile as she cradled his head in her lap. "It's okay, Amelia. I'll be okay..."

Their gazes met, and she frowned. "...your eyes..."

"What about them?"

"They're... brown."

"I guess they wouldn't be red anymore. That's not a very... human trait," he laughed softly. "But hey, now we match..."

"Yeah," she smiled remorsefully. "We match."

---

Sometimes, life was full of change, as were the coming weeks after their newly gained mortality. First came selling the house they'd called home for so long; the painfully empty house that Amelia could no longer stand to wake up in every day. She couldn't feel safe in the same place they'd stayed for so long, either, a hundred different scenarios of them somehow being hunted down constantly plaguing the back of her mind. Then came the haircuts frantically suggested by Amelia and half-assed in the bathroom mirror late at night. A new chapter, a new identity. It felt right. The life they had before was gone, and she wanted no reminders of it -- besides, now they couldn't be recognized. Just in case..

Overtime, Onyx had returned to normal, save for the eyes that she no longer recognized and the smooth teeth that no longer poked at his bottom lip when he smiled. Sometimes, though, she could still see a comforting mirage of his true self, flecks of red dancing under the reflections of sunlight in his eyes.

And sometimes, he could see the same in her; the moments when she smiled were something he cherished now more than ever, even though they weren't nearly as often as they used to be.

Onyx hoped that settling down in the Henford countryside would help her find a sense of purpose. It was peaceful; there were no neighbors for a mile down the road and although their cottage was small, the property itself was big enough for a garden. He spent a lot of time in the garden, and admittedly, a lot of time with their flock of chickens. Amelia preferred to stick to painting. The scenery, the chickens, him -- she did a lot of painting. 

And when the days all blurred together, when life became repetitive and dull, they'd scrape together their savings and take a vacation. Those were the moments that Amelia lived for, that made her feel alive again the way she used to, if only for a little while.

Though her body began to age, she was forever young at heart. As the years passed, she was able to return to something akin to her old self. Time was healing, though he knew some scars were far too deep to ever heal. He knew that some nights she still cried herself to sleep when she thought he had already dozed off, that she still stopped and glanced at the photo of herself and Alexander that hung in the hallway every time she walked past it, and that so many little things still reminded her of the ones she'd loved and lost no matter how long ago it had been. 

But Onyx's feelings for her never changed, scars or no scars, even if she would never be the same again. Neither of them would be. He loved every line and wrinkle that appeared on her face; a reminder that she was still here, that no matter how much it hurt her, she was still strong enough to keep going. 

Maybe he'd even found himself falling in love with her all over again every single day, knowing that now, they were numbered.

As the days began to run out, so did his ability to not think of the inevitable ending that awaited them. He'd never admit it to her, but he was afraid. Not of death, but of loss; of someday waking up without her by his side and facing the world all alone.

And one day, he realized he was going to.

Cancer.

Onyx cried for days after the doctor read the diagnosis, but all Amelia seemed to feel was numbness. She must have told him that she'd pull through a hundred times, and maybe he would have believed her fifty years ago. Maybe she could have fifty years ago. But he saw how frail she was becoming, how no matter how many treatments she endured, she only got worse. The day they told her it was terminal, she didn't shed a tear. She accepted her inevitable death, the way she did the day she drank the cure.

Maybe she'd never really fought it to begin with.

He decided she should be buried in Newcrest, the place they'd first met, the place they grew up together. He visited her grave often, talked to her as though she could hear him -- hoped that somehow, wherever she was, she could. 

The last time he ever visited, he brought her favorite flowers.

---

Breath.

He was sure he'd taken his last, yet his lungs seemed to find air again. Scarlet eyes fluttered open, momentarily blinded by the light that infiltrated them. He was weightless, floating, but somehow standing on solid ground.

Golden gates greeted him when his eyes finally adjusted to seeing once again and his feet moved forward without thinking. The gates, too, weighed nothing as he pushed through them, ascending the stairs to the giant mansion beyond. 

Onyx was sure it was only a dream the moment he entered the grand double doors. His walking pace slowed as he took it all in -- the grandeur, the crowd of familiar faces, the smiles and waves he received as he passed them by. But it felt so real; the conversation and laughter that filled the room, the floor beneath his feet, and the eyes that were all falling on him. 

"It took you long enough."

He turned in the direction of the voice, a flood of emotions washing over him when their eyes met. 

"Don't scold him for not dying fast enough," Brynn chided. "It's not his fault."

Onyx took cautious steps closer. "Alexander, is it really... you?"

"In the flesh," he said with a grin. "Or... maybe not. More like in the spirit, but you know, who cares?"

"...right, well... is this, uh... real?"

"I wondered the same thing when I got here," Alexander shrugged. "I'm still here. It's been a while. So... yes?"

"I-I don't understand... where exactly here is."

"The Afterlife," he said. "Paradise. Heaven. Whatever you want to call it, we don't judge."

Onyx shook his head. "No, this is all just a weird dream..."

"That's what Alexander said when we both started making out with him and also each other. Like, you know, at the same time," Aurora said.

Brynn smacked her arm. "Don't tell him that!"

"...a really, really weird dream..."

Alexander sighed. "It's not a dream, Onyx. You're dead. We've been expecting you, you know."

"We?"

"All of us. Your collective loved ones," he motioned vaguely. "You really kept her waiting."

"H-Her? You mean... Amelia?" Onyx's heart skipped a beat. "She's here?"

Alexander extended a hand toward the staircase. "She's on the balcony. You should go see her."

Onyx nodded silently, proceeding to the stairs beside them with one last glance to Alexander, who gave a reassuring smile. If this was real, if there was any chance, he had to take it. The stairway led to double doors, and his breath caught in his throat as he stepped through them and toward the figure standing by the balcony railing outside.

A trembling hand reached out, his mouth struggling to form any of the words on the tip of his tongue. "...Amelia...?"

The moment their eyes met, he knew it was real. 

THE END.