Author: KiraSparrow PM
The ending to Halfway to the Grave broke my heart, so I rewrote it so that Bones and Cat could be together. Warning: violence.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Romance - Words: 2,136 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 8 - Published: 09-14-10 - id: 6325269
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Written for Halfway to the Grave by Jeaniene Frost
A/N: The way HttG ended broke my heart, so I rewrote it (a while ago) so that Cat and Bones could be together and certain characters I hate could die.
Warning: Sans beta. All mistakes are entirely my own.
I picked myself up. I wasn't sure when he'd be back, so I had to act now. First, I packed our bags. Well, really my bags. There was nothing mom would leave here with.
I, on the other hand, did not trust my new friends at the Bureau. I would be packing weapons. Lots of weapons. I had found a cache of them underneath the bed in the room Bones and I were staying in. With finely aged nosferatu running in my veins, it was simple to find. I found some duffel bags as well and threw in some handguns, one heavy-duty rifle, and a case of silver knives.
Now, for the hard part. I wasn't just going to leave Bones without an explanation. First, because I owed him more than that. Second, if he came back to find us gone without an explanation, he'd only assume the worst and come after us. The least my note would do is slow him down so Mom and I could meet up with my 'friends'.
I sat down at a desk in the living room. Finding a legal pad and a pen, I began to write.
'Dear Bones,' I began, then stopped. What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to say it? If my plan worked , this was the last thing I'd ever say to him.
I took a deep breath and began. I told him how the FBI was right. My mother would never allow herself to be dragged around the world by the thing she hated most. She'd get hurt trying to get away, and we'd get hurt trying to get her back. Eventually, one of our enemies would catch her and use her to get to me; to us.
That was only part of it, though. I couldn't subject him to the constant running. Now we would have two big enemies on our tail instead of just one. Also, what would happen when I kept aging and he didn't?
So, our only choice was for me to take my mom and take the deal with the FBI. I told him I loved him, but it was the only way. I hoped he'd understand and let me do this.
By the end of my note (more like a letter now that I was done with it), I was crying. I loved him more than anything, but I had to let him go. I had to. For his sake, and my mother's.
I should have written a quick note and not have let my emotions get out of hand. I shouldn't have let my guard down. Maybe things would be different.
I stiffened. A vampire was near. It wasn't one whose scent I recognized. A damn sneaky vampire, to boot. It had somehow made it into the kitchen without my noticing.
I could smell from where I sat in the living room. I made no move to show that I knew it was there. I let not even a smidgen of fear escapes my pores, and my heartbeat stayed normal.
I listened carefully, pretending to keep writing. It continued moving around stealthily in the kitchen, circling around and around like it was looking for something.
I was in a bad way. I had left my bags of artillery in the kitchen by the door leading outside. I had nothing else on me, since I hadn't been expecting a strange vampire to come for a visit. My mistake.
My only option was to get to the bags, and fast. I dropped the pen and catapulted myself out of the living room. So much for stealth on my part.
I got my first good look at the vampire who had come to call, and, as I got closer, I could see her better, too. She was 5'5'', had long brown hair, and reeked of Hennessey. I wanted her dead.
By this time, she had found what she was looking for. A scent. Instead of staying to fight, she followed it to the basement door, on the other side of the kitchen from me. Before I could make it to my bags, she kicked down the door and flew down the stairs.
With a snarl, I grabbed both bags and followed her. I knew what she was after now. And there was no way she was getting it while I was alive.
With Bones' blood in me, I was fast, but not fast enough. I rounded the bottom of the stairs to see that bitch holding my mother by her neck. The vampire saw me and smiled at me. Smug.
"Well, look what we have here!" she sang, tilting my mother's head back, "A tasty little snack to refresh me before I take apart the Red Reaper who oh-so-meanly took my Hennessey from me!"
She smiled again, and this time I could see the glint of her fangs. I tightened my grip on my bags and took a step forward.
"Uh-uh-uh!" she crooned at me, pulling my mother's head back and exposing her neck further, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
I froze. She had me. My only weapons were in the bags, which were both zipped shut, and she was using my mother as a shield.
She jerked her head, motioning for me to drop the bags. I complied, all the while trying to form a plan. My mind raced.
Something began to happen, though, as I calculated my chances of winning. I was angry – so angry. I had not come through fifty different kinds of hell to rescue my mom, just to lose to some two-bit bloodsucker.
I was…upset. Very upset. And it showed. The vampire took an involuntary step back. I guessed my eyes were glowing. I began to smell different, even to myself. I felt different, too. Everything sharpened, just like right after I drank Bones' blood. Except, it this was ten times that.
The vampire's eyes narrowed. She looked confused, and wary.
"Well, this changes things," she said. Then, before I could react, she had pulled my mother towards her. I watched in horror as her throat was ripped out. I stared at her blood flowing away from her. I couldn't understand, couldn't force my brain to think.
For over a second, I couldn't move. The next second, however was very different. I had both bags ripped open before you could say 'Reaper', and had handguns gripped in both hands aimed at that pretty little vampire head. Reason and thought shut down for me. I was instinct, reaction. I wanted her dead, so she would die. End of story.
My first shot rocked her head from side to side. Turning to see me, she got a mouth full of bullets. Right about then she got the bright idea to come toward me, dropping my mother. Good. That's what I wanted.
I dropped the empty handguns and grabbed the rifle. For each step that she took forward, I wracked her body with a shot. Soon her body was riddled with holes. Her lower jaw was hanging by a thread. Still she kept coming.
She made her way towards me, inch by inch. I let her come. When she was a few feet away, I dropped the rifle, grabbed a knife, and leaped forward.
I landed on her stomach, knocking her back until her head slammed into the ground. I jammed the knife in next to her heart and twisted. She let out a guttural moan through her fast-repairing jaw, and I twisted harder. I snarled and spat in her face. I enjoyed the look of pain and fear on her face.
The sound of my mother's blood made my head jerk up. It was becoming weaker. I turned to glare at the vampire beneath me, letting all my hate and anger and despair flow out through my eyes. Then, I pulled the knife from next to her heart, and rammed it right through.
I jumped up and ran to my mother, not looking back. She was lying on the cold cement floor of the basement, blood oozing from her neck where it had been ripped open. I sank down next to her, misery settling in and wrapping around me.
I briefly though of having her drink my blood, but dropped the idea quickly. She would never agree, and it was too late.
Instead, I gathered her up in my arms and held her close to me. Her eyes were closed, and I kissed them each briefly, my tears falling onto her face. I whispered that I loved her. I held her tight, even as I felt her slipping away. My heart beat its last along with hers.
I'm not sure how long I sat there holding her, blood-drenched and ice cold, before Bones found me. Later I vaguely remembered hearing frantic searching, then feeling him come up behind me. He pried my mother from my grip; picked me up from where I sat crumpled on the floor. He cradled me in his arms, heedless to the blood that soaked me.
"Get this place cleaned up," he said to Rodney, squeezing me closer. I was so tired. I wanted to sleep; to escape. I couldn't move. So tired, so tired. All I could see when I closed my eyes was my mothers neck being ripped open, again and again. I kept them open. It only helped so much, though.
Bones carried me out of the basement at top speed. He took me to the bathroom connected to the room we were staying in. He stripped me down – which normally I would have enjoyed – and stuck me in the shower. When I didn't move, he sighed and got in with me, undressing as well.
He scrubbed me clean, getting blood out of places I didn't think blood should go. I realized I was crying. I couldn't stop.
Eventually, Bones got us both clean. He pulled me out of the shower, dried me off, and got me dressed in fresh clothes. He did the same for himself, then carried me into the bedroom. I couldn't see anything. I was still crying, and I still couldn't move.
Bones cradled me in his arms, settling into the bed. My head was cushioned on his chest, and I stained his shirt with my pink tears.
After a while, my tears fizzled out. I lay limp in Bones' arms. I couldn't find the strength to cry; to do anything. I just wanted the world to go away, so I could sleep. I wanted sleep.
It seemed the world had some kindness left, because I was soon fast asleep. At least, that's what I thought at first. But then Bones had to wake me up in the middle of the day because I was screaming my head off.
I had had a nightmare, not surprisingly. I was looking at myself in a mirror, to begin with. I'm not sure why, but it seemed really important in the dream. So, I was looking at myself, but it got harder and harder to see my reflection. In the dream, I couldn't figure out why, so I reached out to touch the mirror.
It was covered in blood. I snatched my hand back, disgusted and horrified. I tried wiping the blood off my hand, but it wouldn't come off. If anything, it spread. Everywhere I tried to wipe the blood off – my skin, my clothes, even the floor – became soaked with it. I kept trying and trying to wipe it off anyway, but I only accomplished getting blood everywhere and soaking myself with it.
Then, the voices began. I heard over and over every time my mother said vampires were monsters.
Vampires deserve to die.
Vampires are seeds of the devil.
Don't forget there's a monster inside of you.
Every single thing my mother ever said against vampires was replayed again and again and again for me to hear.
I couldn't tune it out. The words were inside me, ripping apart my body. I curled into a ball and covered my ears. I tried yelling and screaming, but I could still hear my mother's voice, condemning vampires.
That's when Bones woke me up.