Heathcliff stood at the edge of the moors, his eyes closed as he listened to the wind whistle through the few trees that stood nearby. The wind very rarely died down, it seemed to follow Heathcliff. Sometimes it was nothing more than a gentle breeze and sometimes it was a storm. It seemed to pull at him, tug at him whenever he stood still for too long. Willing him to keep moving until he found what he was looking for. He must have covered most of the moors by now and still he hadn't found what he was looking for. He wasn't even completely certain he was still looking for the same thing after so many years of searching. Heathcliff tilted his head slightly to the side, his focus shifting to the sea below. That sound was unfamiliar; he'd spent too much time getting use to the wild landscape of the moors ever to wander this far East. Heathcliff couldn't help but take in a deep breath, tasting the salty air on his tongue. That was unfamiliar too. He opened his eyes, looking out. He couldn't deny that the sight was beautiful. The wild landscape of the moors blending easily into the stormy sea, a tiny smirk flickered over Heathcliff's lips at that. The moors were all too familiar to him, more familiar than the dirty streets of Liverpool where he had spent a little of his childhood running through finding the best ways to survive. The Yorkshire moors seemed endless, a maze to those unfamiliar with it, especially during the dark, silent hours of the night. Heathcliff couldn't help but feel at home here, though it seemed almost incomplete without who he was searching for.
"Looking for something?" a voice whispered from behind him. In normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been heard over the wind and the sea. But Heathcliff had come to learn that he no longer lived under normal circumstances. Not since that painful transformation which made him what he was.
"Not something," he couldn't help but whisper back. He knew the voice well, it filled his soul. Made him complete. "Someone. Maybe you know them?"
"I doubt it," the voice replied, a slight laughing ring to it. The laugh was playful, teasing. Just as it always was when it had been alive. "But I'll try. Who?"
"Catherine Earnshaw," Heathcliff replied, keeping his tone light, casual, indifferent to the name he'd just spoken. "Of course, if you don't know them, you won't be able to help."
"Oh I can help with that one," the voice giggled slightly. "Turn around Heathcliff. Let me see you."
Heathcliff turned slowly, studying Catherine quietly but not moving or saying a word. Catherine couldn't help but laugh at him. "What are you so sulky for?"
"Don't play games with me Cathy," Heathcliff responded, he couldn't help but look annoyed. "You did this to me. You caused this transformation."
"And I thought you'd enjoy your freedom," Cathy teased, stepping closer to Heathcliff. "No rules, no responsibilities. Not that you ever had any. And yet, even when you're given your freedom, you continue to roam the moors as you always did. But you didn't take me with you. Don't you think that's a pity?"
"Not at all," Heathcliff replied, remaining completely still as he felt Cathy moved closer. Not wanting to flinch, to show any kind of fear. "I worshipped you once Cathy; and you broke my heart. Why should I take pity on you now? These moors are as much a part of my heart and soul as you ever were. I would never part from it, even when you were buried ten feet deep beneath it."
Cathy laughed. "You don't have a heart or a soul," she told him coldly. "You never did. Especially now, you're a parasite. Nothing more."
"And who made me the parasite, Cathy?" Heathcliff spat. "I didn't choose to become this. I didn't choose to become a…." Heathcliff stopped, not bringing himself to say the word out loud.
"A what, Heathcliff?" Cathy taunted. "What did I make you that you despise so much?"
"A vampire," Heathcliff murmured, turning away from Cathy and looking back out to sea. A cold smirk flickered across Cathy's lips as she moved to stand beside Heathcliff, following his gaze out to sea.
"Don't tell me you don't enjoy your new powers?" Cathy asked softly after a few minutes. "That you didn't enjoy following wherever the wind took you."
"I don't know what you mean," Heathcliff replied, trying to keep himself polite as he talked though that was becoming increasingly more difficult with Cathy at his side.
"You haven't noticed?" Cathy asked, a little surprised. "How the weather changes with your every mood. You were longing to find me. So the wind brought you here, to the very edge of the place we both hold so dearly."
Heathcliff laughed, though it was cold and heartless. "Of course I noticed. But I'm not allowing this to consume me, because the last time I allowed something to consume me so thoroughly, she broke her own heart. And in doing so she broke mine."
Cathy was silent, listening to the sound of the waves which broke the otherwise still moor. "I often wondered why my father brought you here," Cathy spoke after a little while.
Heathcliff sighed. "So do I. But I'm glad he did. Across these dark and desolate moors. I couldn't imagine a place so unlike what I called home for so many years. And yet, I can't imagine living anywhere else. Not without you, Cathy. I worship you, Cathy. Since your father brought me here as a silent, ghost of a child. You barely took much notice of me, despised me when I first arrived."
"Don't you blame me?" Cathy replied. "You were nothing to me, a stranger which my father cared for more than anything he left Wuthering Heights for Liverpool. And yet, I eventually fell under your spell. And you were nothing more than a gypsy, sent from the devil himself."
Heathcliff laughed. "I wonder what Wuthering Heights is like now, it's been fifty long years and I have never had the courage to return. I always feared that cold, heartless ghost that often stuck her hand through the window on particularly stormy nights. Yet I longed for her to take me away, take me with her. But you never did, not until much later."
"Would you return? If you had the choice, if I returned with you?" Cathy asked.
"Of course," Heathcliff replied without hesitating. "I would do anything to return with you." Heathcliff turned slightly to look at Cathy. "Did you ever think of me during those years away?"
Cathy nodded. "I thought of you every single day that I was away after I changed you. It felt like my soul had split, shattered in a thousand tiny pieces. I tried to fix myself, put myself back together. But even in this life, I was never quite complete. Not without you by my side."
"When you died," Heathcliff replied. "I tried to find the words to justify all you put me through. I vowed I would never allow you to affect me in the same way; I would never have it any other way. I could never forget you, Cathy. Never stop loving you."
Cathy smiled, taking Heathcliff's hand and pulling him away from the cliff edge, pulling him back towards the wild and desolate moors that they had both spent so much time. Heathcliff spun her around gently, watching as Cathy's dress flared out at the bottom before gently tilting her face to look up at him. Heathcliff place a gently kiss on Cathy's lips before spinning her around again and beginning to run across the moors, their surroundings blurring as he pulled her with him. They ran in silence, Cathy not replying to what Heathcliff had told her only moments before.
It took little time to get to the old, weather-beaten house once know as Wuthering Heights. It stood where it always had. Heathcliff couldn't help but stop and stare, the old memories flooding back. Pain, fear, resentment flickered across his expression before the worst memories gave way to the ones he cherished the most. When he was a child, roaming the moors with Cathy before she fell for Edgar Linton. And when old Mr Earnshaw brought him across the moors, when he loved and cared for Heathcliff like he was his own child. But the worst memories still lingered, the constant fighting between himself and Hindley. How inferior he felt in the presence of Edgar Linton. Not that it matter now, Cathy was here beside him. She was filled with life again, wild and untamed. Just like when they were children.
"I wonder who lives here now?" Cathy's dark eyes twinkled maliciously as she asked the question. Heathcliff couldn't help but give a cold laugh.
"Who knows," he replied quietly. "Not that they deserve this magnificent house or the Grange which they would have received with it, nobody deserves this home more than us. Why not give them a surprise?"
Cathy laughed as well, moving with inhumane speed through the door to the house. She allowed herself to explore every inch of Wuthering Heights, remaining unseen as she did so. Heathcliff followed close behind her, not wanting to leave her side for more than a few moments. Heathcliff could hear the distant sound of laughter downstairs clearly, wanting to go down and rip the intruders to shreds, though he showed as much restraint as he could muster. He held his breath, the blood flowing through human veins too tempting if he kept breathing it in any longer. He'd spent too long roaming the moors, not bothering to feed his ever growing thirst. And now, the instinct was almost too strong to resist. Heathcliff knew his strength, knew he could break the humans' necks easily and drain them within a few seconds if he had wanted too. But he resisted for the moment, wanting to follow Cathy wherever she led. He didn't want to let her out of his sight.
"Go have some fun," Cathy eventually turned to look at Heathcliff, her eyes glistening just as hungrily as his did. "I'll join you as soon as I've finished exploring."
"Cathy, you know every inch of this house as well as I do," Heathcliff replied. "Why not come and enjoy the fun with me and explore afterwards?"
Cathy growled slightly before dancing gracefully towards the stairs, aiming down them elegantly. Heathcliff smirked before following, moving faster and arriving in the kitchen a few moments later. His lips had twisted up into an even colder smirk as he took in the sight of the four humans who were lingering in the kitchen. He barely gave them time to breath before he snarled wildly, moving around the room in a blink of an eye, snapping each neck individually and enjoying the moment of pain as screams caught in each of the victims' throats. He could no longer resist the temptation as blood dripped on the floor, feeding the thirst which burned at his own throat, his eyes eventually turning back to the deep brown colour they were before.
"Delicious isn't it?" Cathy purred, her own eyes returning to their usual colour. "Feeling the warm blood enter your system once again, it's refreshing."
Heathcliff couldn't speak the excitement that had filled him moments before dying down again. "Who were they?" he couldn't help but ask, curiosity filling in for the excitement.
"Descendants," Cathy replied, her tone indifferent. "Hareton and Cathy's children, nobody important, the last of the Earnshaws. Well," Cathy smiled at Heathcliff. "Almost the last."
Heathcliff nodded before using the nearest door to escape outside, the smell of blood to strong and fresh to endure any longer. It had been months since he had been inside, the enclosed space making him feel imprisoned. Heathcliff despised that feeling, knowing that Wuthering Heights had always been home. Cathy joined him a few moments later, looking up at the sky.
"There's a storm coming," she noted quietly, watching as the dark clouds covered the moors. Heathcliff didn't reply, watching the clouds as well. The rain came before the thunder and lightening. The rain began to soak them through before the lightening through dark, ominous shadows across the house. It was joined by the loud rumbles of thunder. Heathcliff flinched at the sound, no longer use to the deafening noise ripping through him. They both stood completely still as the storm raged across the moor, both sharing the same memories of racing across the moors during similar storms, moving between Wuthering Heights and the Grange before running further afield. No one would ever come looking for them out here; no one would ever dare to risk getting lost. The moors were Cathy and Heathcliff's playground, especially during a storm.
Heathcliff tilted his head back slightly, allowing the rain splash against his skin, his lips twitching up into a slight smile. "Just like old times," he murmured, turning to meet Cathy's gaze before taking her hand and beginning to run onto the moors, into the heart of the storm. Heathcliff laughed, looking around at the moors. The lightening cast long, dark shadows around them.
The storm eventually subsided as they sat silently at the cliff edge a few hours later, Cathy was staring out at the horizon as the last rays of sun changed the sky to various shades of colour. Heathcliff couldn't help but glance over at her as the sun set. The sea finally calming down below them though the waves still occasionally beat angrily at the shore. Heathcliff wrapped one arm protectively around Cathy, remaining silent, occasionally turning to place a gentle kiss against Cathy's forehead. The sun finally disappeared into the sea, turning the bright surrounds into darkness.