Short Prompt #786

“Let me in? Please?” - the vampire asked with a strained smile, intertwining their hands in front of themself in a polite manner.

The human’s face was blank, unimpressed. But their bruising grip on the doorway of their home gave away their fear. “No.”

Vampire dropped their futile act, hissing angrily and showing off their fangs. “Fine! Let’s see how long you can last on your own!”

“In every losing fight there’s a window,” Mentor had said, all those years ago, “between the moment you realize you can’t win and the moment it’s too late to retreat. Everyone loses sometimes. You’ll survive - if you don’t get caught outside the window.”

Something coiled around the protagonist’s ankle and yanked them back to the present. They hit the slimy pavement hard on their hip. A familiar form stood over them - between them and the only exit from this dead-end alley.

“Is that a whip?” the protagonist gasped as they lurched to their feet to circle backwards, scrubbing the rainwater and blood out of their eyes. “A little kinky, don’t you think?”

The antagonist curled the long leather tail through their hands - so deceptively human looking, if you ignored the claws. They weren’t even breathing hard. Not that the antagonist breathed or got cold or tired. Oh god the protagonist was screwed. “It seemed appropriate for this confrontation,” the antagonist said mildly, wrinkling their nose in distaste as they glanced up at the sky dumping rain on them both.

“Oh this is a confrontation?” the protagonist sneered, trying to keep their hands steady as they raised their silver edged sword. The antagonist hadn’t brought any other weapon and wasn’t that a taunt. The protagonist was going to lose. They had to keep the window open as long as possible.

“Yes.” The antagonist crossed their arms, red eyes gleaming in the streetlight. “You see, [protagonist], I need you alive. And you are trying to get yourself killed. Now what are we going to do about that?”

The protagonist gaped. Thunder boomed in the distance. “You want me alive?” they sputtered, focusing on the least worrying part of the antagonist’s statement. “You’ve been trying to kill me for years!”

The antagonist rolled their eyes. “First of all, if I wanted you dead I’d have snapped your neck like that. It would be easy; you’ve smelled like whiskey and exhaustion and old bruises for weeks. Second, well.” They smoothed their wet hair over their left ear, missing the top chunk the protagonist had taken out in their first encounter years ago. “We’ve had our differences in the past but I’ve never wished you - or [mentor] - dead. You might say you and your kind are a necessary evil.”

The protectionist choked out a laugh. “You calling me evil. Now that’s funny.”

They sidled right, as if circling. The antagonist matched steady parallel, firmly between the protagonist and the exit, and gave a fanged smile. “Hunters keep the more impulsive members of my community in check. You cull the destructive and the foolish, and deter others who do not otherwise see the value of discretion. Which is why I find your recent self-destructive streak in the wake of [mentor]s death so alarming.”

“Sounds like not your problem,” the protagonist said, giving a desperate look around again for any other exit. Nothing.

“You know you’re not the first person to lose someone,” said the antagonist, closing in, backing the protagonist towards the alley corner. “You know how many people I’ve lost?”

“Oh poor you!” The protagonist raised their sword, even as their muscles screamed in protest. “Come over here, I’ll take the pain away.”

“Is that what you want, one of us to take the pain away?” The antagonist kept pressing in. “You think this is what [mentor] would have wanted? Seeing you get sloppy? Reckless?”

“You keep her name out of your filthy mouth,” the protagonist snarled, heat rushing through them, all thoughts of retreat suddenly gone.

The antagonist tilted their head, red eyes lit with a horrible, gut wrenching understanding.

“Oh, [protagonist],” they said with awful compassion. “It wasn’t your fault.”

The protagonist howled and flung themselves forward in an attack.

The antagonist easily ducked the first two wild swings, leapt in a blur of motion. The protagonist flung themself to the side and took the blow on their shoulder, their silver edged sword ringing out as it skittered across the pavement - and under a dumpster.

The protagonist made a frantic dive after it, only to be caught halfway in a pair of impossibly strong arms. The protagonist screamed and kicked their weight back with all their might. They toppled together, landing ass first on the slick pavement. The antagonist did not let go, even as the protagonist thrashed wildly.

“Let it out,” they whispered, tightening their grip. “You need to hurt, I’ll hurt you. You need to be held? I’m right here. Stay with me. Please.”

The protagonist turned their head into the antagonist’s chest and gave themself up to gasping sobs. Cradled against their enemy’s chest, they wept uncontrollably until their throat hurt and the rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle.

“Come home with me,” the antagonist whispered, tucking the protagonist’s head closer, running clawed fingers through their tangled hair. “Just until you’re better.”

It took a long time to get better.

“ ’ ”