A Night in Citrus Grove

[greenportal]

Title: A Night in Citrus Grove

Fandom: Original Universe

Characters: OC Anya (Vampire), OC Laurie (Human)

Word Count: 2,700
Summary: Halloween is coming, and the seasonal reminders of Anya's curse have left her uncharacteristically gloomy. Laurie helps her hold a movie date to lift her spirits, but Anya provides a last-minute change of plans.

Warnings: Potential suicide mention in last sentence of paragraph 3. Brief descriptions of torture, blood/gore, and implied death during the movie. Strong language.

October 30

     I doubt any of my friends back home would be surprised to hear about me feeding myself to a vampire, aside from the shock of learning that they really exist. I was well known for how much I love all things Halloween.
 

     To me the holiday is one last burst of fun before the cold and dreary death of the world in winter. There’s so much joy to be had in decorating the house, and planning costumes, and cheesy 50’s horror movies, and especially in massive bags of cheap candy. At first I didn’t see much difference from last year, except for having to set my old yard decorations up inside my apartment.
 

     However as the season wore on and the leaves began to change, I could tell that there was something wrong with Anya. It started as a slow, gradual change. She walked at a stiffer and more lethargic pace as the temperatures dropped. Once pumpkins started appearing on doorsteps she grew a little less talkative. As the neighborhood began to fill up with plastic skeletons and cotton spiderwebs she would either look down at her feet or icily glare at any bats or vampires in the mix. I grew more concerned when her sighs towards the fake tombstones sounded wistful.
 

     It didn’t help that her carefully prepared feeding schedule had placed our next bite a few days before Halloween. Her usual anxiety and self-hatred over it seemed to be intensified, as our conversations kept dissolving into angst over having to stab people in the throat for a living. I mean, that’s a fairly normal talking point for her, but never as often as it’s been in the past week.
 

     She was acting particularly down a few nights ago. I still clearly remember the image of her sitting with her head down on her kitchen table, and her arms wrapped around her face. Tendrils of her lovely silver hair were either sprawled across the tabletop or hanging down her back in defeat. I asked her if there was something we could do to get her mind off her worries.
 

     “I want to do nothing,” she grumbled. Her voice was muffled under her sleeves and hair. “Just let me sit here until I rot.”
 

     “Now that doesn’t sound like you, Anna Banana,” I said as I rubbed her back. “Come on, you can’t think of anything you want to do together?”
 

     She hesitated on her response. “You should be more careful with ’anything.’ It’s a dangerous word.”
 

     “I don’t care. I mean it. I’ll do anything if it’ll make you happy.” Anya was silent, so I kept talking. “Personally, I think Halloween is supposed to be a happy time of year. Like, in a self-care kind of way. You scare yourself silly so your other emotions learn to be just as intense. You let go of your troubles by becoming something you aren’t, something that doesn’t have those problems. And going back to the old you is like shedding the bad stuff and all that. It’s a dumping ground for all the crappy feelings. So if Halloween doesn’t work like that for you, then I want to find something that does. Whatever will make you feel better, even if it’s avoiding all the spooky stuff.”
 

     She was far too still for far too long. I took my hand off her back and prodded her shoulder to see if she would react.
 

     “Laurie, dearest, everything you just said is completely ridiculous. But… I would be willing to try it. In fact, I can think of one thing.” She turned her head towards me, and raised her hand so that the hair covering one eye would fall aside. The kitchen light reflected in her deep blue eyes. “Could you come over early on Tuesday? We can watch a movie together before my dinner.”
 

     “Of course,” I said as I hugged her, “it’d be no trouble at all.”
 

     She gave me a small huff of a laugh and mumbled, “no trouble at all.”

 

 

     So. Flash forward to last night.
 

     I had told Anya to dress comfortably for a self-care night, but I was still surprised to see her answer her door in something that wasn’t a massive vintage dress. Instead she had a pink, silk nightgown, with white lace around the neckline and a hemline down to her ankles. It wasn’t long enough to hide her matching fuzzy slippers, though. Her hair was up in pin curls, and I barely recognized her without her hair down to her hips. When she hugged me I could still smell the faint lavender and jasmine on her skin from her calming bath. Though it looked like she had reapplied makeup afterwards, at least foundation and lipstick. Both of them were variations of soft pink, but I knew her natural tones were pale, graying skin and stoplight red lips. She probably did that for her own comfort rather than dressing up for me, especially since she was shapeshifted in the privacy of her own home. She still had those dark blue eyes, and her smile had human, though slightly crooked, teeth.
 

     Comparing myself to how amazing she looked in her pajamas made me feel too under-dressed. I had followed the casual dress code too, but I still needed some cold protection for the walk to her house. I had a cozy, oversized sweatshirt with cat ears on the hood, and my jeans that were worn thin enough for comfortable lounging yet still together enough to not have holes. I was excited for the chilly weather because it meant I could finally hide my bite scars behind long, cute scarves without looking weird. I had made sure to leave all of my Halloween clothes at home. Even my socks were plain navy blue instead of orange stripes or spiderweb prints.
 

     Anya had made dinner for me when I got there. She claimed that it would be digested and in my system by the time she was ready to eat. I’m not sure that I trust all of her medical knowledge, but I haven’t had a chance to google that one. After I ate we were both in the basement. She looked through her movie shelves, while I had the job of warming up her fluffy blanket and spot on the couch.
 

     Anya owns an impressive collection of Hallmark and knockoff-Hallmark Made-For-TV movies. I wouldn’t normally choose to watch cheap romance movies, but I would never turn down Anya’s offers to watch one. There’s no such thing as a bad movie night with her, no matter the quality of the film. Some of them have been surprisingly good and kept me invested, while the rest still provide a solid 80 minutes of cuddling on the couch together.
 

     I should’ve noticed something was different when I saw the movie she pulled off the shelf. Usually the variety comes from whether the smiling white couple on the cover is wearing Christmas sweaters or not, but in this case the cover insert had been removed completely. The disc inside the black case was plain silver.
 

     “What did you pick?”
 

     “This one’s called, A Night in Citrus Grove,” she said as she fed it to the CD player.
 

     “Oh, is it one of the travel-themed ones?” I do prefer her movies where the plot was clearly an excuse to film in multiple exotic locations. If I find the story and characters boring, then there’s always some gorgeous scenery to drool over.
 

     “Err, kind of? It has a group of girls going to Florida for Spring Break.”
 

     The unusual premise had my attention. I scooted back to let her curl up on the end of the couch, and then wrapped the blanket around her and took my usual spot on her lap. Whatever button Anya pressed let her skip the opening menu and start the movie right away.
 

     I’m embarrassed at how long it took me to realize the problem. The opening scene showed a young woman driving through the woods and talking to her mom on the phone. Nothing unusual. I didn’t even get it when her phone died right before the car broke down, forcing her to walk to the next town as the sun was setting. It finally clicked in my brain when the camera switched to distantly following her from a shaky point of view.
 

     “This isn’t a romance movie.”
 

     “Depends on your perspective,” Anya said, “there’s a sort of side plot about the villain’s love for human faces.”
 

     I squeezed myself against her even tighter as the movie got quiet. “Uh, the point of tonight was to help you forget about creepy stuff and Halloween for a while.”
 

     “Oh, don’t worry! Don’t worry!” she said while petting my head like a dog. “It will. Don’t you worry.”
 

     There was a jump scare. Loud noise and screeching music blared. An electric turkey carver stabbed through the woman’s chest. Blood poured down her front like she was a human-shaped water balloon.
 

     I sat up and covered my eyes. “Whoa, whoa! No! No no no! Pause! Pause!”
 

     I’m not sure when she actually paused it, as I kept yelling until I realized the room was quiet. I uncovered my eyes slightly to see that the still frame had the woman struggling to escape while a man in a pig mask was beginning to skin her alive.
 

     “Fuck!” I yelled as I turned my whole body so that I was facing the back of the couch.
 

     “Is something wrong, Princess?” Anya said with saccharine innocence.
 

     “I don’t do gore.”
 

     “But I thought you liked scary movies.”
 

     “Yeah, subtle scares. Thrillers. Even old horror B movies. Not torture porn.”
 

     “I don’t see a difference. Are you some kind of horror snob?”
 

     “No, I’m squeamish and I don’t like blood!”

     She threw her head back and laughed so hard she snorted. “Blood? It’s so fake, it doesn’t look a thing like blood! Raspberry sauce would be my guess. Ketchup or dyed corn syrup if raspberries were too expensive. And the skin must be latex to stretch like that.”
 

     “Why would you even have this movie?”
 

     “Because I bought it. In a store. With money.”
 

     “I mean, it doesn’t seem... girly enough for you.”
 

     “Now that’s stereotyping, my love. I’m allowed to enjoy things that are scary and dirty too. I don’t recall the meeting where I pledged my eternal soul to The Society of Lace and Twee.”
 

     That was a fair point, but there was something else rolling around in my brain that I couldn’t exactly place. I looked her in the eyes and caught a glimpse of a mischievous smile as it finally dawned on me.
 

     “Is watching gory movies like watching the cooking channel for you? Are you just trying to work up an appetite for later?”
 

     She crossed her arms and pouted her lips with a huff. “Oh, and now you’re using stereotypes and making hurtful accusations at the same time? How horribly rude!” As soon as she stopped talking, her traitorous stomach growled at me. She quietly added, “I mean, just because it’s true doesn’t mean it isn’t rude.”
 

     I sat and stared at her for almost a full minute. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be angry at her for tricking me, or afraid of her for reminding me about what would happen later, or disgusted with her for the thing she made me watch without warning. Eventually I started laughing, because the whole situation was downright ridiculous.
 

     “That’s adorable, but also pretty fucked up,” I said.
 

     “Honestly,” she said, “I just wanted to try something different. You got me thinking the other day. You said, in your words, that Halloween is about letting go of your troubles by becoming something you aren’t. Wasn’t that it?”
 

     “Yeah, but for you I meant, like, pretending everything is normal for one day.”
 

     “But I’ve tried that. Every single day. I’ve done it. And now I’m tired. So exhausted. Do you know how difficult normalcy is? How much focus and effort it really takes? How hard I have to restrain myself when every tiny sinew in my body only wants to pounce on you, and rip your lungs out with my teeth? Exhausting.”
 

     I must have been unconsciously backing away as she spoke, because she lunged forward to put an arm behind my back and pulled me into a hug. In a blink she dropped her shapeshifting, and I was now looking directly into her bright crimson eyes and catching glimpses of her fangs as she spoke.
 

     “But you! You inspired me. So for tonight, just one night, I give up. I quit. I’m going to indulge in every disgusting thought of pursuit and bloodlust. I’ll revel in them. Let as many out of my system as I can. We’re in a safe, controlled environment, and I know you’ll stop me if I go too far, and get too rough. Surely one night won’t hurt. One little taste of everything I’ve been avoiding. It won’t be enough to lead me to luring children out of their bedroom windows by tomorrow, will it?”
 

     I tried to take a long, deep breath, but she was hugging me a little too tightly. “You should’ve told me what was going on.”
 

     “That is true. My apologies,” she said, punctuating it with a butterfly kiss against my throat, “I let my excitement get away from me too soon. But then, I did warn you against promising ‘anything.’”
 

     “Oh, sure. This is somehow my fault.” I gently tickled her in the ribs until her laughter forced her to back off. “Well, I absolutely hate this idea, but I meant what I said about making you happy. Would you be upset if I just sat with you and didn’t watch the movie?”
 

     “Of course not. Perhaps we can even have some fun together afterwards. You could hide upstairs and let me play a little cat-and-mouse with you. Or I could shut the electricity off and let you find your way to the feeding bed in the dark.”

I shuddered. “You know what? This is still better than seeing you miserable, so I’m going to roll with whatever you want tonight.”
 

     She squealed with laughter and gave me another tight hug. It was the first time in weeks that I had heard genuine joy out of her.
 

     Anya resumed the movie. I curled up against her so that I could block one ear with her body and the other with my hand. I could still tell when the death scenes were happening just by how loudly her guts grumbled, and I did curiously peek out from behind the blanket at the slower moments. Meanwhile she kept one hand on my throat so that she could feel my pulse fluctuating. As the climax intensified she lifted my free hand and rested it on her shoulder. That way she could put her head against my wrist and idly chew on it. I knew she wasn’t trying to hurt me, although even my thick sweatshirt couldn’t stop the sharp points of her fangs from reaching my skin.
 

     There isn’t much to add after the movie ended. She didn’t even speak to me the rest of the night. I often had to guess what she wanted from her body language and the intensity of her staring. And, of course, the bite ended the same way it always does.

 

 

     So now it’s morning, almost afternoon, and I’m still in bed writing. I can’t tell if Anya drank more than usual, or if I’m just worn out. She definitely bit harder this time. My neck is so sore and stiff that I can barely move my head.
 

     I feel like Anya wasn’t being entirely truthful. She had to have restrained herself from her desires a little bit, otherwise I wouldn’t have woken up this morning. I’ve always trusted her to keep me safe, even when she was talking about tearing me apart. But to think of what she might do to me if she really did give up all control…
 

     Anyways. I think I’ll go have some Advil and Halloween candy for breakfast.