#mxsterofstrings

[withswiftieness]

demona relaxes back against eddie, and he relaxes on the wall, one hand in her hair and the other wrapped firmly around her waist. he knows all too well the myriad of emotions running through her at the moment, and while he would have liked nothing more than to let her pounce on him until the sun rose, he knows that now is not the time. now, they need to allow themselves a moment to rest, to settle what they all collectively feel, and when that is done, they can focus on the more pressing matter at hand. after that, well . . .

steve moves, finally, scrambling to cover his bites, and eddie watches him with dark eyes, listening to the pounding of his heart. he's going through more emotions that he'd thought, and likely of a different direction than he'd expected them to go, but he seems to be all right otherwise. he isn't teetering from blood loss, or pale or sick, he's just coming down from the high, and when he asks demona if she's all right herself, eddie readjusts her body, pulling her closer as she tips her head into his neck. he's not so high he allows her to sink her fangs in again, though, gently re-angling her head so she cannot have the chance should the thought cross her mind.

"are you all right?" he asks, still staring with an un-blinking curiosity. the look makes steve swallow as he tugs at the collar of his shirt, and his mouth opens, then closes again as he tries to think of how to answer. he is all right, but he isn't. he's just experienced something that he can't describe, and is watching demona and eddie go through something he feels he shouldn't be privy to, but there is a warmth beneath his skin that he can't ignore, and it's making it hard to think.

'i uh . . . i'm gonna go check on . . . nance.' and then he's gone, leaving the bathroom door partially open as he trots back towards the living room. eddie listens for a moment, then shifts his focus to demona's heartbeat, eyes finally closing as his head leans back against the wall.

"you did good, baby . . . you did good."

[withswiftieness]

reluctantly, demona takes steve's arm into her hands, and eddie's hand drops back to his lap, dark eyes watching her closely. she is still not a fan of the idea, but the longer she smells the blood, the closer she comes to giving in to her instincts, and that, he knows, can be disastrous if not stopped in time. she does not need much from steve, but she will want all that she can get, and she won't be able to stop herself until she's consumed every last drop of blood she can get. that is the nature of what they are, and what has led them to where they are now. she will have to be stopped . . . but first she has to start.

and then he spots it, the animal taking over, and he leans the tiniest bit closer, watching as fangs sprout from her mouth and sink into steve's skin. steve inhales a sharp breath, wincing, and out of either his own instinct or something else he grabs onto eddie's wrist, squeezing tightly. he's uncomfortable at first, almost panicked, but after a moment he settles, and his eyelids flutter; a side effect of the venom eddie now knows their fangs contain. it isn't steve that eddie is watching, though, it is demona. she laps at the blood like she's been hungry her whole life, like she can't get enough, and the veins beneath her eyes begin to darken as they spread, cascading down her cheek bones. she's enjoying it and the effect the blood is having on her body, so much so that she's allowing blood to drip from her mouth and run down her chin. eddie himself almost jumps at the scraps, but he stops himself, shifting somewhat uncomfortably on the floor. admittedly, he thought he'd feel differently about this, but something about it is almost . . . enjoyable. his own heartbeat has quickened, hunger stirring in his veins, but he's quick to tell himself it is nothing more than the fresh blood. anything else would be . . . not a conversation for now, at the very least.

several beats pass as demona laps hungrily at the blood, but when steve's grip begins to ease, eddie knows she has had enough. she is so focused, though, that he knows she doesn't realize it, and he pries himself from steve, grasping at the hair at the base of demona's skull to gently tug her head back.

"hey. that's enough." his voice is barely above a whisper, thick with something he won't admit, and he uses both hands to lean demona back against him, still holding the back of her head. "sit with it now, ride it out. you'll come down on your own . . ."

[withswiftieness]

in truth, eddie does not like the idea of sharing demona anymore than she likes the idea of drinking from steve, but he knows that they are faced with limited options, little time, and do not have the luxury of trying to find someone else she would be more comfortable with. their options are limited to the living inside of these walls, and given the choice of the three, steve is the best option. he won't be happy about it, at least not in a way he would admit, but eddie knows that steve knows he's the best option, and so does demona. none of them would even consider asking eleven, and nancy may have been their friend, but he doubted she would jump at the chance to be bitten into. at least, not by demona. steve is the best choice, regardless of how anyone feels about the situation. if demona does not feed from a human, she will die. eddie can drink from creatures of the upside down, because they are part of the same species and therefore are sufficient enough to satisfy his hunger, but demona is between a state of living and dead, and she needs something alive to feed from, or she is simply prolonging her state of in-between. and that, eddie knows from experience, is not something that needs to be done while vecna is looming over them.

and yet . . . steve's comment does not go unnoticed, drawing a quick side-glance from the vampire. it likely means nothing, but it is still something that will stick in his mind, and he presses his tongue to his fangs in an attempt to keep himself quiet, gesturing for steve to sit. he mumbles a 'yeah i doubt it' as he does, and eddie nods demona towards him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"don't make promises you can't keep." he says quietly, clearing his throat before steve can respond. "and sit still. the more you move, the harder it will be."

'uh. yeah. sure. how do i- how do we . . . do this?'

eyes rolling, eddie snatches steve's hand, turning it over to expose his wrist to demona, who his attention is trained on. his tone is softer, though, not hesitant . . . but not exactly the most thrilled either.

". . . don't think about it. feel your way through it. i'll be right here."

[withswiftieness]

demona is refusing, but not for the reason that most would have. most people, when faced with the idea of having to consume human blood, would have turned squeamish and rightfully so, but demona is refusing not because of that, but because of what it will do to both her and steve. it shouldn't be surprising, but he'd assumed she'd have been . . . almost excited, at the idea of becoming the thing she'd always dreamed of. for as long as eddie has known her, demona has been obsessed with vampires, to the point she'd dressed up as one for halloween almost every year, and had read dracula so many times she could recite it in her sleep. she loved vampires, which was one of the reasons she'd been so willing to accept eddie as he was now, and he thought she'd have jumped at the chance to become one now. though, her reasoning for refusing does make sense, and eddie turns back to steve, staring in silence for a long while. he knows what drinking from steve will do to demona, knows the feelings that it will incite in both of them, and under any other circumstance, he would not have wanted her to do it . . . but they have few choices and no time, and if she has to drink from someone else, he would rather it be steve. steve, at least, eddie knows is not someone that will shrink from the idea of helping someone in need, and if he harbors any of the feelings eddie himself does, then he is the only candidate for this.

besides . . . if demona can open her mind to the idea of eddie feeling something for steve while still being in love with her, then he can open his own to the idea of this. it is the least that he can offer her, after what she has offered him.

"yes, steve. you get a say. but i . . . am asking you to do this for her. for me. please." his gaze lingers briefly, then shifts to demona, who is still clearly set against the way. he can't say he blames her, but she has to do this if she wants to live. sighing, his voice lowers, hands reaching up to cup the blonde's face.

"demona . . . i know what it means. i do. but you mean more to me than that, and if this is the only way to save you, then fuck it." he pauses, thumbs brushing over the darkening veins beneath her eyes. they'd had almost this exact conversation not even an hour ago, but the circumstances of this one were a little more dire.

"it's okay, baby. it's okay."

[withswiftieness]

the guilt that had driven eddie to the ledge has returned ten fold, and the walls of the bathroom are closing in on him, crushing him with the reality he'd tried to run from. he knows by now that running from his problems does not solve them, knows that he cannot continue to hide from the truth, but that does not mean the desire to do so is not still there. he was supposed to protect demona, to keep her safe from harm's way and ensure that she remain uncorrupted, but he had failed that task, and not just once. he'd failed it time and time again since she'd returned to hawkins, and each failure was worse than the last. the first time he'd failed to protect her from kas; steve had done that. this time, he'd failed to protect her from himself; steve had done that too. eddie truly was the anchor tethered to her ankle, drowning her in the sea of darkness he'd been swallowed by years ago . . . but he cannot let her sink alone. he had gotten her into this mess, even if she'd volunteered for it at the start, and the least he could do was try to keep her head above water. if that was at all possible anymore.

still . . . that is easier said than done, and as she speaks, eddie shakes his head, inhaling a shuddering breath. he already knows what needs to be done, but saying it out loud only further cements the truth into his mind that he had done this to her. thankfully, steve does it for him, and tired eyes flicker to the jock, still lingering outside of the bathroom.

"yes . . . she does. she has time before it starts to make her sick like it did me, but the sooner she does it, the better."

'okay, so then . . . i'll leave you to it, then?'

"yeah. that's the problem." steve's brows furrow in confusion, and eddie leans against the wall, gently grasping demona's hand in his own. her pulse is weak and erratic, and her skin is colder than the floor, but at least the pulse is there at all.

"she can't drink from me. after she turns, yes." eddie pauses, turning back to demona. "but for this . . . she needs human blood."

[withswiftieness]

'but i didn't die.'

bile rises in eddie's throat, nose scrunching as he tries to push it back down. demona either doesn't want to believe it, or she truly does not understand just how bad eddie had been, but she will find out soon enough whether she believes it or not. it's not something that even he wants to admit, but it is something that happened. eddie had seen it, had been the one to hold her and beg anything that would listen to give her back, and he'd been there when the life had returned to her eyes. as awful as it was to admit, demona had died, and eddie had been the one to kill her. it was why he'd left, why he'd chosen to sharpen a piece of a tree into a stake, and it was something he would never forgive himself for. he was supposed to protect demona, to keep her far from harm's way and uncorrupted from the evil's of the world, and he'd failed that. he'd failed it, and worse, when it had been happening, he'd enjoyed it. he'd enjoyed every drop he'd taken from her, and if not for steve intervening when he did, there would have been no saving her.

demona lewis had died. and eddie munson had killed her. like everyone said he would.

reluctantly, eddie drops the blonde's hair in favor of combing back his own, dark circles beneath brown eyes even more noticeable in this lighting. he can only stare at her, though, not wanting to have to tell her how he'd done the unthinkable, and in an effort to make her understand, he turns to steve, pleading silently for help, once again. he can't be the one to tell her, he can't.

'. . .i-- i think you did, though. after you passed out, i don't really know what all happened, but i'm pretty sure you stopped breathing. at least for a few minutes.'

please . . . just give her back.

eddie's focus shifts back to demona, even more withdrawn than before. there is a long, sullen silence as she processes, but when she goes to speak again he stops her, feeling the sting of tears brim at his eyes. his voice is weak, though, small and shameful, and for the first time since they've met, he wishes demona would stop looking at him.

". . . i didn't mean to." he chokes out, looking to the floor and wiping at his eyes. "i'm--i'm sorry, i-- i didn't . . . i never wanted to hurt you."

[withswiftieness]

'you know something, don’t you?'

the words echo with such volume in the small space that eddie winces, almost shrinking into himself. he's known something since the moment he'd stepped foot back into the cabin tonight, known something far longer than he'd wanted to, and while he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it from her forever, he'd wanted to keep it from her just a little longer. demona was the one thing left that eddie had, that hadn't been fully corrupted by the horrors that he'd subjected himself to, and without her as she was, what would then happen to him? she'd been his only anchor in the storm of his mind, his only guiding light in the darkness, and if she was also swallowed by that darkness, how was he supposed to continue to navigate it? it wouldn't change her, he knew that she would say, but that was not true. eddie knew from experience, that being what he is changes everything about you, down to your very dna. it takes everything good that there this and purges it from you in an attempt to create a vile creature of legend that can be used to wage war against those it was meant to love. it twists your insides to the point nothing is recognizable anymore, to the point one does not even recognize themself in the mirror. it kills you, over and over again, until nothing is left but the cold shell of darkness that can be twisted and manipulated.

'you know something, don’t you?'

the screeching of bats echoes in eddie's ears as his eyes slip closed.

'eddie, what are you doing?' 'buyin' more time.' 'eddie! eddie no!'

'you know something, don’t you?'

you cannot hide from me. i see . . . everything.

'you know something, don’t you?'

". . . she didn't get an invitation." eddie finally says, voice so low he's not sure if anyone can hear. he knows demona can, though, her slow blink of confusion confirming, and his gaze drops back to the tile.

'wait . . . what? what do you mean she didn't get an invitation? an invitation to what?'

"steve." eddie's focus lifts to the jock, fangs glimmering in the yellow of the bathroom lights. "she didn't get invited in. vampires have to be invited."

[withswiftieness]

this is happening much faster than eddie remembers, though admittedly he does not quite remember how much time had passed between his own death and transition. most of that is still a blur to him, up until the point demona's van collided with him in the middle of the road. and what he does remember, he often tries to forget. now, however, he wishes he'd at least been able to remember how long it had been from his death to the point of his rebirth, because at least then, he would know when to expect demona to react certain ways. the threshold should not have had this bad of an effect on her, but perhaps it has because of the circumstances of her transition versus his own. she'd been turned by eddie, and eddie had been turned by . . . something else entirely. that could easily account for the differences, but without an answer, he still does not know how to help her.

and then she is gone, much quicker than any normal person would be able in this state, and eddie can only stare as blonde hair disappears around the corner. guilt is beginning to bubble within him, as he stands there, fully realizing just what it is that he's done to his summer storm, and for a moment, he doesn't even want to follow her, as following her means that he must face the truth head on, in front of both demona and steve, and that is not something he wanted to do just yet.

'what the hell is happening?' steve's voice hits his ears, and eddie sighs, shaking his head before taking off after the blonde, albeit at a normal speed. he rounds the corner into the bathroom as she finishes heaving up the last of the blood, kneeling down beside her so that he can gently move her hair back and hold it at the back of her head, as to keep it out of the way should she get sick again. as expected, steve is right behind him, though he stays outside, staring at the two of them with concern and confusion on his face.

'eddie. dude. what--what the hell?' he gestures briefly at demona, combing his own hair from his face. 'is she like . . . pregnant, or? what's wrong with her?'

"no." eddie glares at the male before returning his attention to his fiancé, shifting slightly on the cool tile. he can't blame steve for the question, but he can't let go of the bitterness of the thought, either.

'then what the hell is happening, eddie?'

eddie sighs, gaze shifting from demona's crimson one and to the floor. his curls cover most of his face, but she knows him well enough to know that he is, once again, hiding something from her, but this time, he is more hiding in his own shame than anything else. he'd done this to her. not vecna, not the demogorgon fight. eddie had done this to her, and he would truly never be able to forgive himself for what he was about to have to say.