amityville_sweetheart | Entries tagged with descent

Here and now, there is fitful sleep. Very boring.

December eighth, two-thousand and five is quite the opposite.

Four days ago, Corrine Bertrand's boyfriend killed a vampire. Brutally. Now so far removed from the incident, she can't help but think that maybe the whole thing wasn't so bad. After all, vampires are minions of evil, right? Does it really matter if they're tortured a smeensy before their imminent doom? And even if it did matter, who on earth would it matter to?

And to complicate matters more, she really couldn't take that stance. If all accounts were to be listened to, Corrine's beloved father was a tyrannical, cold, homicidal psychopath with a disgusting love of power and dark arts. There was a great possibility that her father even sent a demon to kill her.

Possibility?

'The only difference between fiction and fact is something you can put your hands on', her brother Louis was fond of saying. So to Corrine, it was at best only a theory, yet to be proven or disproven. Enough to maim the memory of her papa, but not enough to wound her mortally.

And, beyond that... she still missed her father more than anything in the world. Sometimes she could find him on the battlefield, promising her success in all things if she only wanted it bad enough. Sometimes she could find him at the bottom of a bottle, his blue eyes faded and restless and tired, torn between desire and obligation. Sometimes she could find him in Caleb's eyes, not the color or the correct shape, but something about the message inside of them... a longing for more than your worth, a fiery intellect, several guarded thoughts before careful words.

The last factor, not the least to be ignored; the demon she shared a bed with most nights of the week. Caleb. And if it was to be believed, Corrine herself was a holy vessel. Oh, it wasn't all like that, although she was sure several individuals probably thought she was kidding herself. But she was the very last person to ask about evil and good. If you asked her, it was a football field's length of gray, with two inches to each side, one for good and one for evil.

No one was asking her, though, and thank kittens for that. Caleb has no real family, few friends, and there's always so much going on at the JSA, it's been easy to keep him under watch. Evil? Not her call to make. But he's definitely crazy. Not the crazy she was used to with him, either, but a stark-raving, paranoid, talking-to-himself absolute nutbar.

Corrine lifts her head from under the blanket, staring blearily out her bedroom window. It's still snowing.

That last thought and the silence is actually what rouses her from half-sleep. It's the first multi-hour sleep she's had in a day or two, and she hadn't even noticed the lack of Caleb's presence beside her.

The Shining does Metropolis, she thinks bitterly as she pulls herself from bed.

There's no sounds of distress, and the cats are curled up on Caleb's side of the bed quietly. No ruckus of Caleb going crazy. Perhaps he passed out from exhaustion finally? Did he wander outside? Maybe he just went home. Which one, though? Oh, there was no use getting herself bent out of shape before she searched the apartment.

For all she knew, and she hoped this was the truth, he could be asleep on the couch. Finally.

Current Location: dreaming

Fair warning: very, very nasty stuff. It made me twitch to write it, but my brain wasn't going to let me sleep without writing it up. Also? This thing turned into a short fic somewhere along the way. Dunno how.

The house isn't as she left it. Corrine knows this much as she pulls up the driveway, stained with dark, frozen puddles in the early morning light. She's missed the way the sun comes up from the east and shines right into the windows of the house, illuminating the front yard in a breathtaking light.

Something's different today, though. She can see shadows moving inside the windows against the rays of sunlight. The axe isn't hanging in the barn where she always leaves it, it's in the ground next to the wood pile. There seems to be something in the yard, something black and moving around in the back corner closest to the barn. The back screen door is hanging open, there's glass on the roof of the porch, the curtains blowing inwards from the broken window.

She brings the car to a stop, climbing out slowly and examining the house. She leaves her bag on the passenger seat, the keys in the ignition and the driver's side door open. Caleb had once said during one of their training sessions, "In every situation, there are two options. Fight or flight. There are no others."

( Inside Alice's Wonderland... )

Current Mood: morose
Current Music: Perfect Circle - Judith

A plain, sealed white envelope, sitting atop the bed in Corrine's JSA suite. On the front of the envelope in wide, looping cursive it reads: "In case I don't come back... to the care of Ms. Amelia Zukov, Metropolis, DE"

Inside, a neatly thrice-folded letter waits to be found and delivered... or not.

( Letters from the damned... )

Current Mood: blank

She is looking through a window.

She stands on her tip-toes, looking through it. There’s a parlor, and a little girl and a woman sitting at a fireplace. She squints. The little girl has bandages on her hand. The woman is crying. “Again,” the woman says.

“Outside are the dogs and the sorcerors and the immoral persons and the murderers and the idolators, and everyone who loves and practices lying,” the little girl answers.

“Again.”

“Outside are the dogs and the sorcerors and the immoral persons and the murderers and the idolators, and everyone who loves and practices lying.”

“The -what-?” the woman snaps.

“The sorcerors,” the girl answers. There are tears in her eyes now.

“The who, Therese?”

“The sorcerors,” Corrine finds herself answering.

The woman is now throwing books into the fire. Alice in Wonderland. The Hobbit. The Wizard of Oz. The Silver Chair. The Secret Garden. The fire licks around their pages, consuming them. Corrine is mesmerized.

A noise stirs her from her sleep. She sits up, looking around. The room is dark, then she suddenly remembers. She was at home, after the mess with the Al Koyet-- finally. Upon arrival, she'd collected all the darker-shaded curtains she could find, and almost every blanket got unfolded and was now covering the windows. She'd unplugged all the clocks as well as her home phone and cell phone. Any TV station that covered news got temporarily blocked from the set, and even her JSA communicator was turned off. If it was really tragic and important, they could come drag her back kicking and screaming. But right now, her plan was to just make the entire world go away for a few days.

She hears the familiar sound of Caleb's footfalls approaching the bedroom, and despite the lack of light, she turns towards the door. "Hey, baby." A long, long yawn. "What time is it?" Waving a hand frantically, she cuts him off before he can completely answer. "No, nevermind! Forget I asked. Don't wanna know."

Caleb chuckles, and she can feel him sit down next to her. He leans down and gives her a quick kiss, and then there's a warm mug in her hands. "Drink this. You need the strength."

Sniffing it quizzically, she hesitates to drink. "What is it?" It's not that she doesn't trust him, but, well... she had brothers growing up. You never drink or eat anything asked of you before testing it first.

"Tomato soup," he says simply, and she hears him taking a sip of his own.

Satisfied, Corrine takes a tenative sip. She didn't even know she had tomato soup in her cabinets. "Needs milk," she says tiredly, then sets the mug aside and hugs him around the waist. "So, how long do you think we've been here?"

There's silence for a few moments, then Caleb leans over to set his own mug on the nightstand. "Twenty four hours, at least. I know you slept for about twelve."

"You didn't sleep?" Corrine remarks curiously, snuggling back into her pillows and blankets. She'd noticed him stirring shortly after she'd fallen asleep, but she didn't think much of it. She'd been too tired to think much of anything. Unconsciously, she'd reached over and patted his back reassuringly, but that was the last thing she could remember before sleep overcame her.

"There's a lot on my mind," he says, and he sounds tired. Her brow creases as he continues. "The past few days have been... harrowing. I just need time to wind down, that's all." A kiss on her forehead, and then Caleb's next to her, his head against her shoulder. "Nothing to worry about, I'm sure."

There's a little giggle from her in the darkness, and then the feel of her hand running down his side. "You seemed to take your mind off it all for a couple hours there, at least."

Corrine can see the smile on his face as he looks up at her, a hand slowly trailing down her jaw. "You have that effect on me. Besides, I'm enjoying that I was, uh... pleasantly surprised at you not being dead." Then, in a slightly sadder tone, "And myself, if not for the... state of affairs which established that."

She doesn't really much want to think of that right now, so instead she shifts on the bed to face him. "How long do you think it'll be before someone comes looking for us?"

Another chuckle from Caleb. There could be worse things than this. "Let's just hope it's not angels this time. I, uh... I don't think I'll be happy to be seeing that shrew again anytime soon."

"Haha. You called an angel a shrew," she mocks, beeping his nose. "Guess you're gonna have to go to confession now and everything."

"Or you," he says quietly.

She sits up on an elbow, creasing her brow at him. "What?"

He turns to her, smiling-- crazed, not quite there. "I'm not the one sleeping with demons."

Corrine startles up, finding herself wrapped in sheets and blankets on the floor. She's next to her bed in the JSA Brownstone, staring wildly around. Light is coming through the windows. She rubs her head, feeling the hangover already.

She pulls herself to her feet shakily, looking about the room. In seconds she's running around the suite, gathering the alcohol and pouring it down the drain in the bathroom sink. For several minutes she stands at the sink, empty bottles on all sides, staring blearily into the mirror.

The tears start again, and she sinks to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.

Caleb got away.

I don't know where he is. I don't know what he's doing. I think that's the worst part about this.

It's going to sound demented and twisted, but I loved it when he first started getting sick. Maybe that's why I didn't say anything. I could account for every hour of his day in the beginning. Work, and then he'd come straight home to me. Days and days where it was just him and me. We'd cook dinner together or make love or sit around on the couch watching a movie or I'd show him my father's card tricks or he'd talk about his college days. The talking... hours and hours we'd just sit curled up in bed and talk about everything, moving from one topic to the next and we never got sick of it. I never got sick of hearing about his life, and he never got sick of hearing about mine.

Oh, God. All those times with him... with that bastard in his head... was he watching us? Watching me, through Caleb's eyes? Our first date together, and the weekend at the beach house, and Thanksgiving at my sister's... did he see all that? Has he seen my life, me, for the past eight months?

It makes me nauseous. I can't even know if this is really him, if the person I've known for over nine months is the man he really is. I'd only even met him a month or so before the incident at Shadowcrest, I can't even say... please, don't let that be the truth. Please, please, please.

Damnit, how could I have been so stupid? For all we know he's out there right now bleeding internally in a slow death, or having a heart attack, or the DEO's trying to track his movements intent on putting a bullet in his brain. I should've said something, to someone... anyone. Something.

I had to be fucking stupid and selfish and childish and want his full fucking attention. I had to be somebody's whole world and I didn't realize the rest of the world was fading away for him, and I was... Jesus, I don't want to cry again. I'm so tired of crying.

It feels like I've been crying for years now, and I sob and I sob and the tears won't come anymore. It's just this bottomless aching, sitting in the dark and holding myself and wishing I hadn't been so stupid. Kicking myself over and over again for being so fucking stupid. He's gonna die. I know it, I know he's gonna die. I feel it. Neron's going to kill him, and he's going to laugh about it, and I didn't say a goddamn word to anyone for almost a month. It's papa and Casey all over again, and I can't do anything about it, I can't turn back the clock and fix everything I did wrong.

I can't go back and make it all right, make it so he never went to Shadowcrest with us, so I never made that phone call. I'm an agent of God, and I can't take back two stupid fucking seconds that it took to dial his number and maybe he wouldn't be trying to kill everybody or going crazy or fucking dying somewhere out of his mind and alone. It would've been our first Christmas together and his presents are sitting wrapped in the hall closet and he may never open them. I was going to make a big dinner with ham and turkey and even let the veggie thing slide because it's fucking Christmas but it's days away now and I don't know where he is or if he's already dead what if we never even find a body oh God I'm crying again.

I don't want this I don't want this I want him back and I'm so so sorry and I wish I'd never even met him because I don't even know if I love him anymore I don't know if he even is the same man I met and I hate that I hate it more than anything I've ever hated in my life the not knowing the sitting up at night and wondering and waiting for him to come back to me to crawl back in bed beside me and this was all a bad dream and he'd be right there and everything would be okay again but even if he comes back I'll never really know if that was him or if it's ever safe with him again or if he's going to stab me in my sleep or strangle me and I can't fix that.

I thought I could fix everything. With mama gone I could make like none of it ever happened, I could just pretend everything was normal and okay and I'd be okay, I'd lead a normal life and nobody would ever know. I'd never be a victim again, I'd never have to be a statistic, another body in the morgue, another college psych class number of the people who fell between the cracks. And now it's all fucked up and I don't know who I am or if I even want to be her anymore, if I'm even capable of being her anymore.

When I stabbed him I finally saw it, finally saw that last bit of him slip away and he looked at me like he didn't know me anymore. I realize we can't ever go back to what we had, not ever. I wasn't trying to kill him, I wasn't, and no one fucking believes me. No one says that but I can see it in their eyes. I lost control, I just wanted to stop him and I was so angry. I didn't mean to...

At night I turn to embrace him and there's no one there. Trevor brought me some things from home, my second pillow that still smells like Caleb, still smells like his hair. I keep waking up, finding myself all wrapped around it and knowing it isn't him and just wishing it was. If he was dead I could deal with that, I could handle that, I've been to enough funerals, done enough signs of the cross for the dead. Dead I can cope with, dead means it's the end.

But he isn't dead and it couldn't be that fucking simple. I can't just say goodbye and mourn and let it be.

It was so easy to think everything would always be the same, that he would always be there. That we'd have this sugary-sweet fairy tale ending, and now I know it's not right. It's fucked up, all fucked up.

I fucked it all up again.

Current Mood: morose

Locked against Caleb.

Something’s wrong.

I can feel this sort of thing in my blood. I don’t know how, I’ve just always had this… this sixth sense. No, it’s not that complex, I guess. It’s just a tense feeling, like something’s out of place and I won’t know what it is until it happens.

I hate this.

Black Canary gets kidnapped, then Sand just gets zapped off into blackness in the middle of the fight, and we get attacked at Thanksgiving dinner (and I manage to knock my own dumb butt out, don’t need any help from the bad guys, thanks). I’m just barely holding onto my job by the skin of my teeth, trying my damnest to stay focused.

Then there’s Caleb. He never sleeps anymore, and then we both spend all day arguing over dumb things that don’t really mean anything because of it. It’s gotten to the point where I’m finding excuses not to be around, and I don’t want things to be like that, but I have absolutely no idea what’s gotten into him. I mean, yeah, sleep deprivation, stress, yadda yadda. But it’s not any of those things.

It’s like… merciful kitten, I can’t believe I’m saying this, it’s like he’s going mad. One minute he’ll be perfectly fine, and the next he’s just… just… it’s not even the angry outbursts. I could handle that.

It’s the way he looks at me anymore, like he’s studying me. And at first, it was just bad dreams, where he’d talk or stir in his sleep. Last night I got kicked, and he was screaming. Just… screaming.

Date someone for six months and you notice little things about them, like the fact that Caleb doesn’t drink coffee. I actually caught him this morning downing two No Dozes and a cup of coffee. He hates the stuff. Hates it.

And I called Louis, and he says I’m making something out of nothing. I mean, I know our jobs require a lot of time, energy, and, well, blood and sleep loss, quite frankly. Is it finally catching up to him? Am I making something out of nothing? I don’t want to be the naggy, over-protective girlfriend, but I feel like if something isn’t done soon he’s going to crash, hard. And this whole mess with me restoring Amelia’s soul hasn’t helped things at all. If anything, he’s become more obsessed with finding a “cure”, and I really don’t have the heart to tell him a second time that there probably isn’t one.

Okay, I’m gonna slow down. One step at a time, right? We’re taking him to a neurologist later this week, and then if that doesn’t do anything, a sleep center. Next is investigating magical causes, and then… then… I don’t know what.

…Maybe thorazine shakes.