Sleepless in Missouri. From bones_to_flesh
Margaret drove after I had told her that my Mother had died, and did it in silence. I was five by five with that. She didn't ask too many questions, and though she was old and smelled a little bit like aspercreme, or Ben-Gay, she knew instinctively how to react towards me, and I respected that. She didn't crowd me, or ride me, she just told me what I needed to know and did it wicked cool. She wasn't sneaky and she told me that other watchers were quite stuffy, because they didn't get to see any action in the field.
I managed to drift off to sleep, and she didn't bother me with that, either. She just drove, which was a good thing, because I wanted to get there, and she wanted me to be rested for the fight. I dreamed.
I dreamed about my Mother, at first. It stood to reason, what with her just dying and all, and with my disdain for her really wicked coming out. But that dream went away and something new blitzed my mind and forced me up, gasping for air.
Margaret asked me, as I woke, if I had finally started having dreams and she got all specific, asking me if the dream was about Kakistos, and then she described him.
"Yeah, he's wicked big and wicked gross. I gotta fight that guy? he's got claws instead of hands and fingers. Are most vamps like that?"
She told me no, which was good, and she told me the things that he had done. "Well, his days of killing are over. And my days of kicking his ass have just begun."
I smiled and balled my fists, rubbing my knuckles with the other hand, ready to pounce, although Princess Margaret here told me to relax and not to get too far ahead of myself. She told me to try to sleep through the dreams, because they were part of my calling, and that I needed to fight this Kakistos, or whatever with intelligence and caution. Screw that. I just wanted to kill the guy, but I did go back to sleep, somewhere in West Virginia.
The dreams returned and I saw that he had alligators and that he was going to try to kill me. He killed Margaret in my dream, but I didn't think anything of it. I branded the son of a bitch, too, but as I woke and we were in Missouri, and stopped at a motel, I didn't tell her about it. If she asked, I would lie, because it was probably just my imagination gettin' to me. I had always lived violent and on the edge, and it had to play a part in my dreams.
We got seperate rooms, but she told me that after she rested, we would start to attack. I was five by five with that. She told me to rest again, too, but I was gettin' restless. I just wanted to start doin' damage to the undead.
I managed to drift off to sleep, and she didn't bother me with that, either. She just drove, which was a good thing, because I wanted to get there, and she wanted me to be rested for the fight. I dreamed.
I dreamed about my Mother, at first. It stood to reason, what with her just dying and all, and with my disdain for her really wicked coming out. But that dream went away and something new blitzed my mind and forced me up, gasping for air.
Margaret asked me, as I woke, if I had finally started having dreams and she got all specific, asking me if the dream was about Kakistos, and then she described him.
"Yeah, he's wicked big and wicked gross. I gotta fight that guy? he's got claws instead of hands and fingers. Are most vamps like that?"
She told me no, which was good, and she told me the things that he had done. "Well, his days of killing are over. And my days of kicking his ass have just begun."
I smiled and balled my fists, rubbing my knuckles with the other hand, ready to pounce, although Princess Margaret here told me to relax and not to get too far ahead of myself. She told me to try to sleep through the dreams, because they were part of my calling, and that I needed to fight this Kakistos, or whatever with intelligence and caution. Screw that. I just wanted to kill the guy, but I did go back to sleep, somewhere in West Virginia.
The dreams returned and I saw that he had alligators and that he was going to try to kill me. He killed Margaret in my dream, but I didn't think anything of it. I branded the son of a bitch, too, but as I woke and we were in Missouri, and stopped at a motel, I didn't tell her about it. If she asked, I would lie, because it was probably just my imagination gettin' to me. I had always lived violent and on the edge, and it had to play a part in my dreams.
We got seperate rooms, but she told me that after she rested, we would start to attack. I was five by five with that. She told me to rest again, too, but I was gettin' restless. I just wanted to start doin' damage to the undead.