Kurda was in Africa when he got the call from Dean. He'd been living in Ghana for a year or so, teaching evening classes to those unable to afford further education but who were hungry to learn
( ... )
Kurda gave Dean a watery smile, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. He knew there was a long way to go, but he'd given Dean a glimmer of hope and it was enough to be going on with. Kurda held his hand out to Dean to help him up.
He takes the hand, pulling himself up with it. "Always." His eyes briefly flicker in the direction of the woman's body.
"Get me drunk enough, and I might just tell you why one day." It was something about himself he'd confided in no-one but Sam. Even when he'd told Kurda some of being in hell, just so that Kurda knew he wasn't the only one to go through something that horrible and come out the other side and come out a mess.... he'd not gone into that much detail. Never shared what he'd done down there.
Maybe it was time to share. If nothing else so Kurda can understand why he doesn't like to even tempt fate by feeding, even in the way kurda does. That, and it'll be kind of a test. When he knows he's not really all that good after all, if he'll still stay.
Dean would... quite like to be surprised on that front. But he doubts it.
Kurda collected the knife from the ground and gave it back to Dean, then turned and headed back down the street to where he'd parked the Harley. He knew Dean had secrets, they'd known each other for so long and they knew each other well, but there were still certain things they both kept firmly hidden and they both knew it and respected it. Kurda, for example, had never told Dean about Gavner Purl. They had an almost infinite period of time ahead of them - if and when they were ready they would share.
Kurda straddled his bike and gestured for Dean to get on behind him. "What do you think? It's not exactly the Impala but it's pretty cool, right?"
He wipes the blade off on the leg of his grimey jeans, and slips it away. He doesn't bother with burning or disposing of the body, not even going to bother moving it. He's still a little beyond caring at the minute, and is more than likely to respond 'let them find it' if questioned about it.
But the Harley... that's a nice bike. he can't deny that one. "I think she could come close to being the impala of the bike world." He gets on behind, holding on so as he doesn't fall off. "Just head the butchers and get a few pints of cow. That's alI should need."
"I'll let you have a go if you play your cards right," Kurda said, then accelerated easily down the road.
Half an hour later they were sitting on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse overlooking the city. Kurda had found a butchers, let himself in, stolen some blood, and then discovered a private place where they could drink in peace. They sat quietly for a long time, not needing to say anything, until Kurda eventually pointed to a place a few streets over. "I like the look of that bar."
Part of Kurda felt like they should be talking about Sam, but the other part of him felt that showing Dean that life went on without him was important.
He didn't respond aloud, just nodded and put down the empty container. "Looks great." He... didn't really care. So long as they had a liquid diet that would get him to a point he couldn't feel anything expect the numb buzz of the alcohol.
He waits for Kurda to finish before getting up and just leavfing to head to the bar. As soon as he's in there, he's charming the waitress into leaving them the bottle, and some extras. To anyone that knows him, you can see he's going through the well-known motions - saying all the right things, smiling the right smile - but the smile doesn't have it's usual 100 megawatt shine to it, the eyes still lacking their usual mischievious gleam.
But it works. she gives him the bottle and two from the back, but mosly because he assures her he's not drinking alone. He grabs the bottle and the glasses she gets down after leaving a large fold of bills he has on the counter, trying to at least look like he's ignoring the fact there's Three bottles in his hand and three glasses in the other. two of the three
( ... )
Kurda watched Dean drink in silence and made no comment - he would allow Dean this. If this was how the hunter chose to cope with his loss, if this was what numbed the pain then Kurda would let him take his medicine. But he would only tolerate it for so long, and if the excessive drinking continued for longer than a week, as it undoubtedly would, then Kurda was going to come down on it like a ton of bricks.
The blonde vampire knocked back his drink and slid his glass across the table for another before answering Dean. "My trip was good - I feel like I'm really helping people, you know? I wish you could see them, my class, they're just so hungry for it all. They want to know everything and they question everything - they've made me see completely anew and when you've been around for almost two centuries that's hard to do..."
In the time Kurda had been talking, he'd emptied his glass again and he refilled both glasses and slid Kurda's back to him. The alcohol is not hitting him nearly hard enough quick enough. So he tosses back another, going to the bottle again.
"Kids can do that. Even when you think you've seen it all, they've got something new to show you. And I'd... kind of like that. But it won't happen." Not without sedatives, and maybe even a tranquilizer. "I ain't getting on no damned plane, you crazy fool." The pop-culture reference's humour is lacking and empty. going through the motions, what's expected of him.
"We could always take a cruise," Kurda suggested. The more he thought about it the more he like the idea. "Have you ever even left America?"
There was so much of the world and Kurda had seen more than most, but there were still millions of miles and billions of people and there was so much life . Kurda wanted to share that with Dean, and the healing power of the little planet they lived on was more remarkable than any psychiatrist or drug could ever be. "We could go to Europe, start there... I could show you my home."
"Once." Thirteen hour plane trip. Not even one had passed before Sam had to knock him out.
He thought about it over a few more mouthfuls of the alcohol. "Yeah, why not? Nothing keeping me here anyway." He's just seeing it as another chance to run. put more distance than ever before between him and the things reminding him of his brother. Which. Was... everything.
Kurda wished that he could take Dean to Vampire Mountain, to introduce him to the vampires there who had lost loved ones, who had suffered unimaginable hardships, who had carried on fighting through the centuries. Someone like Vancha March would be good for Dean. But there was no way Kurda could go back there, not after what he'd done. The rest of his kind still thought him dead and he was in no great hurry to correct them.
No. He would take Dean to see wonders and he'd show him beauty and goodness and everything worth living for. They would climb mountains just to see the view, they'd run with polar bears and gaze up at the Northern Lights at night. Kurda would show Dean Africa and they'd watch the wild animals roaming free and untamed. They'd sneak into the Roman Colosseum in the early hours of the morning and wrestle like gladiators, Dean would love that...
Kurda finished his next drink and then hissed. "What is this? It's bloody strong... Go easy."
He chuckles a little bit. "Don't go giving up on me now. We got another two of these things to get through yet. And as for what it is... I like to think of it as 'Dr. Jack's amazing cure-all.'" It didn't really matter, he'd paid for them, so they could take home what was left. Though, alcohol had been his main way of 'coping' for many, many, many years now and Kurda was going to see the tolerance of an 84 year old alcoholic vamp at it's finest.
But sky-high tolerance was a pain in the ass when you were just trying to get drunk. In a kind-of salute to his words, he lifted his glass to them and drank again
( ... )
Kurda never had and never would be able to drink what Dean could drink - but then he had no desire too. He didn't like not being in control of himself and he always got paranoid about the effects the alcohol might have on his brain cells. He tried not to quit on Dean too early on though, which had resulted in him being giggly drunk - he couldn't stop smiling because his brain kept reminding him of all the great things he was going to show his friend to help him.
Kurda had to lift his head from the table when Dean told him to look around, his neck felt like rubber and his head felt too heavy for it. He gazed around and then reclined back, smiling. "I see humans socialising, living their lives, forgetting their troubles, having fun." The pointed way that he said it was in no way subtle. "Why'd you ask?"
He rolled the glass between his hands, working himself around to answering properly. Nope, gonna need another drink for this. He doesn't answer before his glass his full again. "Because I'm going to tell you what I see, beyond a group of ignorant morons." He took a drink, getting in touch with the part of him he usually pushed way away from and tried to ignore - well, less so since Sam died, but still not fully getting in touch with
( ... )
Kurda listened to Dean, his words quickly bringing him back to his senses and banishing the giggly mood the drink had been causing. What little colour there was drained from his face and he looked suitably horrified. By the second sentence he didn't want to hear anymore. He shook his head and quietly pleaded for him not to do this, his voice becoming louder and more desperate as he was ignored... ... 'I'd kill her first so he had to watch...'
"...stop it..."
'I'd prove her wrong... show her her intestines...'
"...stop it, Dean..."
'I know exactly how to keep them alive long enough to enjoy their own tailor made hell...'
"STOP IT!"
Kurda stared at him, shaking his head, not wanting to believe a word of this. "...you don't mean it, Dean. If you meant it you wouldn't hate yourself so much..." Kurda tried to pour another drink, but his hand was shaking so much that he set the bottle down again.
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"Are you still on the rats and rabbits?"
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"Get me drunk enough, and I might just tell you why one day." It was something about himself he'd confided in no-one but Sam. Even when he'd told Kurda some of being in hell, just so that Kurda knew he wasn't the only one to go through something that horrible and come out the other side and come out a mess.... he'd not gone into that much detail. Never shared what he'd done down there.
Maybe it was time to share. If nothing else so Kurda can understand why he doesn't like to even tempt fate by feeding, even in the way kurda does. That, and it'll be kind of a test. When he knows he's not really all that good after all, if he'll still stay.
Dean would... quite like to be surprised on that front. But he doubts it.
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Kurda collected the knife from the ground and gave it back to Dean, then turned and headed back down the street to where he'd parked the Harley.
He knew Dean had secrets, they'd known each other for so long and they knew each other well, but there were still certain things they both kept firmly hidden and they both knew it and respected it. Kurda, for example, had never told Dean about Gavner Purl.
They had an almost infinite period of time ahead of them - if and when they were ready they would share.
Kurda straddled his bike and gestured for Dean to get on behind him.
"What do you think? It's not exactly the Impala but it's pretty cool, right?"
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But the Harley... that's a nice bike. he can't deny that one. "I think she could come close to being the impala of the bike world." He gets on behind, holding on so as he doesn't fall off. "Just head the butchers and get a few pints of cow. That's alI should need."
Reply
Half an hour later they were sitting on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse overlooking the city. Kurda had found a butchers, let himself in, stolen some blood, and then discovered a private place where they could drink in peace. They sat quietly for a long time, not needing to say anything, until Kurda eventually pointed to a place a few streets over.
"I like the look of that bar."
Part of Kurda felt like they should be talking about Sam, but the other part of him felt that showing Dean that life went on without him was important.
Reply
He waits for Kurda to finish before getting up and just leavfing to head to the bar. As soon as he's in there, he's charming the waitress into leaving them the bottle, and some extras. To anyone that knows him, you can see he's going through the well-known motions - saying all the right things, smiling the right smile - but the smile doesn't have it's usual 100 megawatt shine to it, the eyes still lacking their usual mischievious gleam.
But it works. she gives him the bottle and two from the back, but mosly because he assures her he's not drinking alone. He grabs the bottle and the glasses she gets down after leaving a large fold of bills he has on the counter, trying to at least look like he's ignoring the fact there's Three bottles in his hand and three glasses in the other. two of the three ( ... )
Reply
The blonde vampire knocked back his drink and slid his glass across the table for another before answering Dean.
"My trip was good - I feel like I'm really helping people, you know? I wish you could see them, my class, they're just so hungry for it all. They want to know everything and they question everything - they've made me see completely anew and when you've been around for almost two centuries that's hard to do..."
Reply
"Kids can do that. Even when you think you've seen it all, they've got something new to show you. And I'd... kind of like that. But it won't happen." Not without sedatives, and maybe even a tranquilizer. "I ain't getting on no damned plane, you crazy fool." The pop-culture reference's humour is lacking and empty. going through the motions, what's expected of him.
Reply
There was so much of the world and Kurda had seen more than most, but there were still millions of miles and billions of people and there was so much life . Kurda wanted to share that with Dean, and the healing power of the little planet they lived on was more remarkable than any psychiatrist or drug could ever be.
"We could go to Europe, start there... I could show you my home."
Reply
He thought about it over a few more mouthfuls of the alcohol. "Yeah, why not? Nothing keeping me here anyway." He's just seeing it as another chance to run. put more distance than ever before between him and the things reminding him of his brother. Which. Was... everything.
Reply
And that was that.
Kurda wished that he could take Dean to Vampire Mountain, to introduce him to the vampires there who had lost loved ones, who had suffered unimaginable hardships, who had carried on fighting through the centuries. Someone like Vancha March would be good for Dean.
But there was no way Kurda could go back there, not after what he'd done. The rest of his kind still thought him dead and he was in no great hurry to correct them.
No. He would take Dean to see wonders and he'd show him beauty and goodness and everything worth living for. They would climb mountains just to see the view, they'd run with polar bears and gaze up at the Northern Lights at night. Kurda would show Dean Africa and they'd watch the wild animals roaming free and untamed. They'd sneak into the Roman Colosseum in the early hours of the morning and wrestle like gladiators, Dean would love that...
Kurda finished his next drink and then hissed. "What is this? It's bloody strong... Go easy."
Reply
But sky-high tolerance was a pain in the ass when you were just trying to get drunk. In a kind-of salute to his words, he lifted his glass to them and drank again ( ... )
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Kurda had to lift his head from the table when Dean told him to look around, his neck felt like rubber and his head felt too heavy for it. He gazed around and then reclined back, smiling.
"I see humans socialising, living their lives, forgetting their troubles, having fun."
The pointed way that he said it was in no way subtle.
"Why'd you ask?"
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...
'I'd kill her first so he had to watch...'
"...stop it..."
'I'd prove her wrong... show her her intestines...'
"...stop it, Dean..."
'I know exactly how to keep them alive long enough to enjoy their own tailor made hell...'
"STOP IT!"
Kurda stared at him, shaking his head, not wanting to believe a word of this.
"...you don't mean it, Dean. If you meant it you wouldn't hate yourself so much..."
Kurda tried to pour another drink, but his hand was shaking so much that he set the bottle down again.
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