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whimmortal · 2 months ago

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TIMING: April 25th (so before Jenny/Metzli) PARTIES: Owen @bladesandtrades and Jenny @whimmortal LOCATION: DaMa parking lot SUMMARY: Jenny is lingering at the parking lot of the incident in the hopes of finding another vampire. Owen is hunting one. What could go wrong? CONTENT WARNING: None

A month ago, Jenny’s car had stood in this exact same parking lot with her in it. Not a lot had changed about the place, but she felt like she was a whole different person standing there now. Her eyes kept being pulled to the bit of road where the puddle of blood had spread around the woman that had been attacked, as if there would still be red shining in the dark of the night. It was just the same dull, almost black roads always were, though.

She wasn’t sure if this was a solid plan, being back here. It did make the hair in her neck stand up, but that might just as well be because she was excited. Ever since it was revealed to her that vampires were real, she had failed to find another one. This spot was her best bet and biggest lead. So she leaned against the hood of her car, trying to seem very casual and delectable. The way her hand clutched her vape revealed the tremor she was trying to hide, knuckles white as she moved it up to her lips for another hit.

The parking lot was annoyingly empty. She supposed staking someone out was not supposed to be very thrilling, but something had to give. Lest she start thinking about the blood on her knees again. Jenny hit her vape again, rising from the hood of her car when she heard footsteps. Wide eyes moved towards the sound, witnessing a dark figure step onto the scene. She held her breath. Held up a hand as if to say hello, and then did, “Hi,” she said, “Nice out, isn’t it? For April.”

—-

Dance Macabre was as much of a cesspool as ever but Owen was a reluctant part of it now, as much as he avoided the damn place like the plague. It usually worked, delegating jobs that necessitated a visit to the filthy bottom of the fang banger community to others - only this particular one had called for a certain kind of discretion. More accurately, the kind of discretion only Owen could provide since, if the rumors were correct, this was a vampire roaming around into whom Rosel had gotten her disgusting claws.

It was a mission that would have taken longer if the vampire in question hadn’t been a goddamn coward. Probably the reason it had managed to slide under the radar all these months.

Owen had been in pursuit the second the flighty bastard saw him, very unsubtly freaked out and tried to leave without attracting attention. Cowardly and stupid. With a huff, Owen pushed past the throng of people with bad taste and a death wish, stepping outside to find the vampire being distracted by a young woman leaning against her car. Did she know the fucker? Maybe she was just trying to recruit him into one of the town’s many ridiculous cults.

In an annoying turn of events, maybe the vampire wasn’t quite as dumb as he’d seemed, assessing the situation and realizing that running was a fool’s errand. So he slapped on a smile instead, greeting the woman with the vape and leaning against the car next to its owner. Owen frowned, slowly closing the distance between them, sizing up the seemingly innocent woman as he halted a few steps away. “No one taught you not to talk to strangers?” Owen asked, eyes zeroed in on the vampire even as he addressed the (probably) human, barely sparing her a glance. The human… parked outside Dance Macabre, lingering around for something or someone? Fucking idiots, maybe Owen should let the vampire use her as a shield.

—---

Jenny brought the vape to her mouth again, wondering if she should make the change back to cigarettes. They certainly fit the aesthetic of vampires better, and if she succeeded in her plans, she would need to commit to that. Smoking strawberry flavored stuff didn’t feel very immortal, blood-drinking creature, after all. Besides, she’d never have to worry about ruining her lungs in that scenario, too.

The stranger took her up on her conversation attempt, which was nice. He agreed that it was nice out for April, “Sure is,” he hummed, voice a low grumble. “Are you waiting for someone?”

The answer to that question was not as simple as Jenny would want it to be. In a way, the answer was no: she hadn’t yet found the kind of friends in town that she would wait for, but she was certainly waiting for something. And if all went according to plan, that something came in the shape of a someone, and that someone would come tonight. “Yes,” she said, if only to not sound like a friendless loser. “But I think they’re running late, so…”

There was something suggestive in the air there, an invitation. Maybe this man was just a human person, like her, but that wouldn’t be too big a loss. She was kind of lonely and bored, anyway. But maybe he wasn’t.

Jenny started searching for hints of vampirism, using her knowledge of the undead creatures for signals, when a third party joined. Another maybe-human, maybe-vampire. Anyone could be anything in this new world. She offered something of a smile in return, “Says the …” Jenny raised an eyebrow before adding the next word: “Stranger?” She grinned. “Hypocritical to be giving out tips like that.”

—-

It was hard to tell this close to a confirmed vampire, Owen’s skin already prickling and agitated but there hadn’t been an obvious uptick in discomfort as he closed in on the young woman. There was no move made to return her faint smile, Owen wasn’t really registering her presence as anything other than an inconvenience. If there was a way to confirm that both of them had nothing pumping inside their chests, Owen would have made swift work of getting rid off the pair. As it was, he needed to make sure a human didn’t end up with a torn carotid - even if it was a human as fucking stupid as this one, hanging around outside Macabre.

“Not to worry, I have literally zero interest in talking to you,” Owen assured her, shifting his weight and narrowing his eyes when the vampire moved closer to the human, all but confirming their plan. You try to take me out, I threaten this human. Alright, then.

Owen let out a sigh that sounded more like a grumble, slipping both hands into his pockets, a show on nonchalance that allowed his fingers to wrap around a vial of holy water. “Look, wild guess that you’re hanging around here because you’re a fangbanger, correct? I don’t have time to tell you how fucking dumb that is – all I need is your new friend there and I’m pretty sure he’s willing to trade his worthless life for yours. So… feel like getting out of the way, sweetheart?”

—--

It was impossible for her to keep her face from falling at the second party’s cutting words, Jenny’s insecurities rising as reliably as the tide. It was easy to back her into a corner of overthinking — she was the type that hated the sound of her own voice, even if she heard it aplenty (being both self-loathing and a yapper was pretty hard), so the other’s words just confirmed her self doubts.

She tried to keep track of what the other was implying exactly, head wrapping itself around the word fangbanger for a moment before connecting the dots. Why the first stranger would trade his life for hers and what the second’s intentions were, she did not know, but she understood what she was being accused of.

He wasn’t far off. Except for the fact that she was only an aspiring fangbanger and had not yet succeeded in being banged by someone with fangs. Did this mean that the second stranger was a vampire, then? Jenny looked up at him with something like hopeful intrigue, then back at the party pooper.

“You know,” she said, tone indignant, “You should not insult someone twice and then call them ‘sweetheart’, it’s really lame. Are you a CW villain?” She did not move from her spot on against her car, because it was her car and she did not let random, tall men tell her what to do. “What’s your beef with him, anyway?”

—-

At what point could people like Owen, that had to deal with people like this young and dumb specimen here, sue those fucking YA writers for the irreversible damage they’d done. At least the bastards of the sixteenth or whenever the fuck century had gotten it somewhat right, associating vampires with plagues and death. The human with a death wish looked more put off by Owen’s complete lack of interest in her than being called a fangbanger, which confirmed the slayer’s hunch. If not for a personal interest in this particular set of fangs, Owen might have let natural selection deal with this dumbass, let her bang her little heart away. And god, now she was looking at the vampire like a lost puppy. For fuck’s sake.

“You think I’m lame? However will I fucking cope,” Owen retorted dryly, fingers tightening around the fragile vial of holy water. “And I personally prefer the title of antihero, has a fun ring to it.” He didn’t know what the fuck constituted a CW-anything and it shouldn’t matter what pitiful attempts at sass left the girl’s mouth but… well, Owen couldn’t let her have the last word, could he? Even if the only other witness to this conversation would be ash by end of evening. “My beef?” Owen parroted, looking at the vampire now, who seemed much to smug for the slayer’s liking. “Well, you see–”

The vial of clear liquid was airborne, tossed with a good amount of accuracy considering the speed it was sent off at. Better the water than a knife - a broken vial of water wouldn’t do too much harm to a human and Owen supposed he owed it to Eve not to have to cover up more of his missteps for a while - just in case he missed. Owen was not in the mood for missing, wanting the water to sear that insufferable fucking smile off the vampire’s face.

—--

Oh, he really was a villain, with the way he was harshing her vibe. For one, he seemed to have been able to identify what she was doing here, but was not picking up what she was picking down — which made him either a non-vampire who didn’t think vampires were cool, or a self-hating one. Jenny had no time for vampires who felt badly about their natures: she didn’t want a story as depressing as Louis de Point du Lac. She also didn’t want to deal with men who went out of their way to be mean. Too many of those out there, too.

She was about to fling back a devastating retort (of course) when the second stranger (the vibe-harsher) made a very strange move. He was throwing something, and it wasn’t words and Jenny’s eyes followed the object with confused intrigue and something like anger, too. This was her night!

When the object, which turned out to be a vial, hit the first stranger in the face it cracked. Jenny witnessed water burst over his face, leaking in various trails over his skin and … sizzling away at it? Her face twisted, eyebrows pushed together and eyes wide as she observed something she had only seen done with special effects before. The stranger was emitting sounds of pain and Jenny wasn’t helping, because she was too busy watching how his skin was bubbling, revealing the flesh underneath and — the fangs protruding past those full lips. A vampire, at arm’s length from her, in pain.

“What are you doing?!” She whipped towards the vibe-harsher, the question containing many more things than just indignation. This was a vampire! This could have been her night! And now he was growling and wiping at his face in a rather pathetic way that made Jenny feel defensive but also a little disgusted. But she not only demanded an answer because she thought this cruel, but because she wanted to know why the other had done this. What weaknesses did vampires hold in this lore? Why did the other know what these weaknesses were? Was this like Buffy? She opened her mouth to ask more, but was stilled when she felt cold hands on her shoulders, pulling her towards the moaning but enraged vampire.

—--

Oh, the confused terror of a sheltered human seeing just how fucking gruesome the world could be for the first time. If Owen had a pinch more faith in the world, he might have hoped that this would put the young woman off vampires but alas, the need to be a fucking idiot was stronger than self preservation. Instead of running, being frightened, showing any of the normal reactions one should have watching the face of a fanged monster slowly melt, the girl was turning her anger towards Owen. Who kind of wanted the vampire to tear her throat out at this point.

Owen didn’t get out a snappy answer because she hadn’t run away and he hadn’t moved in fast enough and now there were angry hands tugging the human closer. Even though he was a shit awful slayer and had half a mind to punch this insufferable Twilight fan in the face, Owen couldn’t ignore the discomfort of letting her die, which was very inconvenient. “Still think they’re charming now?” Owen bit out because he couldn’t help it, whipping out a knife. Instead of charging with it towards the vampire and its very convenient human shield, Owen scored a decent cut into the palm of his hand. The knife might hurt the fragile human while his blood would only cause damage to the intended recipient - even if she might not be happy about some stranger’s blood on her but Owen had zero fucks to give on that matter.

Surging in, he grabbed for one of the vampire’s hands, clinging on to it even as the creature hissed and spat and tried to pull itself free from the caustic blood covering Owen’s palm. Its other hand still grasped tightly onto the human and Owen growled, furious gaze settling on the human. “You wanna try and show a fucking tiny bit of self preservation and get the fuck away?”

—--

Jenny knew that her quest towards vampirism was not without danger. These were creatures that drank blood to survive — and some might even enjoy it. She had read enough books about the topic to know some of them would see her as disposable, just another source of food and barely an afterthought. She had seen how the vampire from that one night had attacked the woman and left her behind like some kind of supernatural hit and run. She understood the danger, or at least so she had thought.

The vampire’s grip was as if made from iron, digging finger shaped bruises into her shoulders. Jenny was frozen underneath his grasp, the situation so overwhelming and her fear so sudden that there wasn’t a muscle she could move. It reminded her vaguely of being on the subway with a creep, the way her entire body seemed wound as tightly as a spring. She didn’t even have a good retort to the other’s snipe, because no, she did not think this particular vampire charming. Whether that meant she found all vampires not-charming was something she’d decide on later, when back at home and safe (if she’d make it there) — but for now she just knew her fast beating heart and the dread in her stomach.

The other knew what he was doing, which implied many things that Jenny did not have the brainpower to consider. She watched in fear how he cut open his hand, wondering if he was going to pull a Bella and distract the vampire with his own blood — but no, he used it against the vampire. With one hand gone from her body, she knew she should use her legs. The stranger was saying as much. They felt like sludge, made of half-hardened cement that wanted to be one with the ground underneath them. Jenny let out a cry, trying to wriggle herself free and finding the grasp not as bruising any more. She rushed forward, turning around and stumbling backward to watch the scene.

—

It seemed clear from her body language that the delusional dumbass had never actually encountered a vampire doing what it did best - being a fucking dick - before. She was tense, her facial expressions easily readable and yet, Owen wondered if any of this would have enough of an effect to prevent her from returning right back to this curb in a week’s time. That wasn’t his problem to give a shit about, however, only bothering with the now where he was the one that had pissed off the vampire and incited this mess. So it was just a tiny bit his responsibility to make sure the terrified girl made it out of here alive.

Finally, a fucking sensible move on her part as she moved, making Owen’s job that much easier now that there wasn’t a scared and fragile thing between him and the one he wanted to destroy. “Great job,” he snarled sarcastically before the vampire was rewarded now with his full attention.

“Wait, Owen - it’s Owen, right? I wasn’t really going to hurt her, man. Or tell anyone shit, I promise.” The pitiful babbling only fueled Owen’s anger and he gripped even tighter onto the burned flesh of the vampire’s wrist, other hand balling into a fist to crack against its jaw. A tiny bit of satisfaction that grew with the second and third hit and finally with the fourth did he release the grip on the vampire, letting it slump to the ground.

“Great. Too bad I don’t trust you for shit.” A stake appeared from his jacket, the fearful presence behind forgotten in the heat of the moment, the single minded focus of getting rid of this oversight.

—

Statistically speaking, Jenny had had pretty rotten luck with vampires so far. If she was keeping track (and she should start doing that), this one would be tallied under ‘dangerous and bad vampires’ together with the one from the parking lot. She had not met any that could fall under a potential ‘harmless and good vampires’ category. It wasn’t looking good.

With her heavy, useless legs she scrambled further from the scene, pressing herself against her car door. She should get in and drive off, forget about this scene and her own foolishness but she was too transfixed to give into the far away survival instinct begging her to be wise. So instead she witnessed — the name drop, the clear indication that the vampire knew this Owen, the fact that Owen was able to fistfight a vampire even if he himself seemed awfully human.

The vampire slumped down. There was something so human about that, too. Something so weak. Were vampires in this world weak? Or was this Owen stronger than most? Jenny clutched the handle of her car door, watching the stake get pulled.

She held her breath. Should she not step in? Despite the fact that the vampire had laid his hands on her, she knew what a stake did to vampires — at least, she assumed she did. She had helped the woman who had bled out in this parking lot. She did not want anyone to die. She swallowed, willing her voice to be used, “Don’t!” It was the only thing she managed to croak out.

—--

For as long as he could remember, at the very least since moving to this godforsaken town, Owen had enjoyed this particular look when it stared back at him - the look of realization that their undead life was coming to an end, sometimes accompanied by resignation or desperate hope but always with the same undertones. Owen knew the look well, had inspired it time and time again and now, after all of the fuckery he’d been dragged through, it was even more invigorating. A way to feel in control, the only way he properly knew how.

Red eyes were focused on the stake and Owen was focused on the vampire, more precisely the spot on its chest that would give a direct way into its heart. And then a noise, something that could barely be described as speaking but one that demanded attention all the same. It was a fraction of a second, Owen remembering the pathetic civilian that apparently decided to stick around, but it was enough of a distraction for the vampire to try and make use of it.

It surged forward, trying to take control of the hand wielding the stake, vice grip locking around Owen’s wrist. The vampire’s other hand was flailing, desperate and pathetic but it was still a vampire with the strength that accompanied such a curse and blunt nails scratched angry red marks down the side of Owen’s face. Chest burning with anger, Owen barely resisted the urge to toss the vampire into the useless human that had intervened, driving an elbow into the vampire’s face instead. Following another heavy hit, Owen grasped the arm clinging onto his, dug his fingers in and twisted. The vampire let go but he twisted further and further until something gave way - elbow or shoulder, he didn’t really give two fucks, silencing the pained cry by finally shoving the stake in deep where it belonged.

A puff of dust and Owen was rounding on the human, eyes alight with anger. “This is what you have to look forward to if you keep fucking around these parts.”

—

The consequences of her actions were swift and bloody, the vampire making use of her unintentional distraction to attack the man called Owen. Jenny crouched on instinct, making herself smaller and watching it all through the windows of her car — the way blood was drawn from the other’s face, the way he fought teeth and nail. She hadn’t ever seen violence like this. It was different from that night in this same parking lot, when there had been so much blood, where it had not been an exchange. This was a choreographed action scene. Hits for the human, hits for the vampire.

She was clutching her car, watching the vampire’s arm twist in a way that had to hurt. She closed her eyes for a moment, just for a prolonged blink and when she opened them Owen was pushing the stake into the vampire’s chest. He exploded like they did when Buffy killed them, but it was not as fun to watch as it was when it was the scrappy blonde doing the fighting. There was no soundtrack. Just the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, the distant thump of club music, and then Owen, on them.

She had seen what violence he held in that tall body and she inched closer to her car, as if pushing against the car door might get her inside. Jenny felt her muscles tremble, was slow to open her mouth, sheepish and afraid. She did not want to argue. Shame would curl around her ankles later, envelop her in its cold hug. In stead of arguing, she questioned. “Are you … a hunter?” She pushed her body up to its full height, hand still on the car door handle. “What was that, you threw? Do you do this — do you do this often?” Should she be worried, about the weapon in his hand, the rage in his eyes? She clicked her car keys, opening the door with a flash of the lights.

—-

Still high off the mix of emotions that came with the kill, Owen enjoyed the fear in the woman’s eyes for a moment before it, along with everything else, just made him a bit ill. There was still the looming possibility of more loose ends, first the damn accountant, now a vampire he’d missed… Obviously, worry could not be at the forefront of his mind in this situation, that wouldn’t be allowed to surface until he was alone so anger it was. Deserved anger, he could add, the discomfort of the scratches on his face a stark reminder of this idiot’s interference.

She seemed to be struggling for an answer, mouth opening and closing like a fucking fish and Owen huffed a humorless laugh. Yeah, not as fucking fun and romantic as fucking pop culture made it seem like. His eyebrows raised expectantly, almost as if he was interested in hearing what she had to say (he wasn’t) and the dumb question was honestly just… perfect. “Keep looking for vampires to fuck and you’ll eventually find out. Unless they kill you instead,” came the harsh answer but alas, it seemed she had some actual questions, too. And for what, to prepare? Morbid curiosity? If she was on the side of the damn bloodsuckers then giving her anything was a mistake - as if Owen would have answered the questions regardless.

The car blinked and the rest of the world came into focus - chatter approaching, the very exposed positioning. She might have been just a misguided human lacking a few brain cells but Owen still kind of wanted to punch her in the face, just a little, maybe rattle those hard working neurons into realizing what the hell she was trying to get herself into. But lucky for her, that felt like pushing it, someone was bound to walk up on them and get the cops involved. For now, there was no physical evidence of a brawl except for Owen’s face and most likely a bruise on vampire girl’s shoulder.

Pocketing the stake, Owen loomed closer, unable to fully resist one last attempt at scaring her off. It would most likely amount to nothing but maybe it would make her eventual staking easier. He placed a hand on her car, staring her down. “You’re a fucking idiot. I see you around here again, I won’t have a problem making you bleed since that’s what you seem so interested in.” Before she could retort or come up with more fucking questions, Owen stalked up, right as he noticed a couple heading down the street, shooting him a suspicious look. They’d most likely stop with the girl, ask if she was alright. She’d probably lie and be back here tomorrow, the night after next at the latest. And then eventually, she’d meet the business end of a stake, his or another slayer’s, or end up as one of the messes people like Eve needed to clean up.

#threads.#owen: writing.#owen.#throwing stakes from glass houses.#wickedswriting

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