Marley remembered how, last time someone she loved had died, she’d done almost this exact same thing. Stumbling down the street, drunk off her ass, unsure of where her feet were taking her. Back then, it had been Lydia, and back then, she’d been more messed up. Her head wound was still fresh, and she’d just found out what a monster Lydia was. She’d just found out what a monster she was. And back then, she’d stumbled to Erin’s. Not Anita’s, not Jane’s– Erin’s. Erin, who had forced her way into Marley’s life even after she tried to push her out. Erin, who had stuck by her even in the most difficult of times. Erin, who had shown Marley nothing but compassion and unconditional love. Who saw her darkness and told her she loved her anyway. 

Marley felt another sob rip through her throat and she had to stop for a moment, sliding down the wall, burrowing her face into her arms as she clutched the bottle of whatever she’d grabbed tightly. She wanted to disappear, to melt into the brick behind her or maybe the cement below her, and she wanted to stop existing. She wanted to turn invisible and never come back. Wilt away in the bed she’d shared with the woman she’d loved with all of her black heart and soul. 

But Erin wouldn’t want that for her. She’d tell Marley she was being stupid and that she still had work to do. She needed to get up and get back to work. 

“I’m sorry,” she slurred, arms falling limp by her side. “I’m sorry. I won’t be late next time. I promise, I promise.” 

She picked herself back up at some point, and by the time she realized where she was heading, the lights lining the house were making her flinch back in surprise. All colors of the rainbow flickered around the house, decorated the yard, the fence, the trees out front. Marley had enough wits about her to roll her eyes before heading up the drive. “Stupid lesbian…” she grumbled, stopping at the door and banging. “Open up!” she slurred loudly. “It’s me, Vic. Open the door or I’m gonna pass out on your porch and freeze to death. You don’t want that on your conscience, right?” She knocked again. “C’mon, we both know I’m too hot to freeze to death.”

 For the first time in a while, Vic dreaded having the night off.  Being left alone and idle with her thoughts was never a good idea, but even less so when they were swirling with memories of the past and knowledge of the present.  How did everything seem to fit together in a way that seemed so tragically perfect? She watched her stained hands as they painted and painted, furiously switching between hues so the canvas could perfectly match her memory.  

She had been intending to paint Erin.  The White Crest Press article was pinned next to the canvas, crinkled and imperfect from being crumpled up and smoothed so many times.  She hated looking at it.  Her eyes kept landing on certain words- Detective Marley Stryder. Nichol’s Funeral Home.  Decapitated. … Her stomach lurched.

Her eyes fell back on the painting- a now headless body in a field of flowers.  In place of the head was a tornado of colors, blending together into grays and browns in the center.  A clumsy bang from the front door made her jump, the paint brush flying out of her hand as she turned around to check it out.  It was nearly two in the morning… Who could have possibly been pounding at her door?

She turned back around, intent on ignoring the solicitor until they got bored and left. But when she was faced with the painting again, she was struck with just how little she had been paying attention to what she’d been doing.  Because even without a head, there was no denying that the person on the canvas wasn’t Erin Nichols.  It was Lyra.

Marley yelled from the front porch as tears began to prick at Vic’s eyes.  She grabbed the top of the canvas, slamming it down onto the floor before turning toward the front with a tearful huff.  Like always, she closed the door to the art studio behind her.  Marley was still bellowing on her front porch when she reached the door, and the sight she was met with was even worse than the one she’d pictured.

“Jesus, Marley”, she said, stepping aside to let her in.  “What are you doing here?”  She guided her toward the living room as they talked.  It was a marvel Marley had even made it to her house on her own- she could barely walk.  “You should be resting.”

 Marley spilled into Vic’s house, grabbing onto her so she didn’t completely topple over. “I didn’t know where else to go,” Marley admitted. Erin would be so disappointed in her, but she wanted to stop thinking about her. Just for a little bit. Just for a minute. Just for a second. She’d give anything to not have to think about the hole in her chest that Erin had left behind. “I couldn’t be there, in that house. It’s too empty.” She sank onto the couch, collapsing. “I don’t–” she looked at Vic through her drunken haze. Something was off with her, too. Her face looked paler than usual and her eyes looked tired. Marley knew Vic had something heavy on her soul, to do what she did– she knew because Marley was the same. And that was what had drawn Marley to Vic initially. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

 Vic sighed, slow and somber, as she did her best to help hold Marley upright.  “I’m glad you came here”, she admitted.  She hated to think where else Marley could have ended up.  A drunk and vulnerable cop alone in the middle of the night- it would have been a recipe for disaster.  At least Vic could keep her safe here until she sobered up.  Maybe even longer, if Marley wanted to stay.  She made her way to the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator (kept pristine and stocked of course, despite Vic not being able to enjoy all that was inside).  She tossed it to Marley once she was back in the living room, sitting down next to her.  A part of her wondered why Marley chose her of all people to come to.   Vic wasn’t stupid- she knew she wasn’t a comforting presence.  At least not to anyone sane.  She didn’t know how to deal with her own shit.  And Marley’s shit felt so similar to hers in that eerie, distant kind of way that made Vic’s skin crawl all over.  Still, she wanted to offer help.  “Do you want to… talk about it?”

 “You are?” Marley slurred, trying to turn and watch Vic walk towards the kitchen but finding it too difficult as the world tilted sideways and she grabbed her head, leaning forward onto her knees. Eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to quell the tears but when she felt something being passed to her and opened them again, that blurriness that hadn’t gone away since she’d found Erin was still there. It stung and burned and Marley took the bottle, scrubbing her palm into her eyes to make it go away. It wouldn’t go away. She looked over at Vic and didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. She just wanted to stop feeling for a minute, a second, a single damn moment. “Is it supposed to hurt this much?” she asked suddenly. “Fuck, it hurts so much. I’ve been stabbed and shot and clawed by a bear and had my fucking head crushed, but this– it feels like all of that combined. I feel like I’m dying,” she croaked. “I wish I was dying.” At least then she’d know her suffering would end. She didn’t think this suffering would end. She didn’t know how Vic did it. She didn’t know how she was supposed to do this. “It should’ve been me,” she muttered, putting her head back in her hands. “It was supposed to be me.”

 Vic nodded affirmatively, watching the woman across from her carefully.  She took Marley’s hands, furious and rubbing, and pressed them together.  Her touch was firm and gentle, and she ducked her head so their eyes could meet.  “No.  It’s not supposed to hurt so much because it’s not supposed to happen, Marley.  None of this was meant to happen.  Somebody took her from you.  She was t-taken from you”, she said, her eyes filling up with tears that refused to be shed.  “Maybe the hurt will never ever go away.  She was a part of you, Marley.  A part of you died, and that’s why it hurts more than anything physical.”  She heard so many of her own feelings echoing in Marley now.  It made her feel nauseous and empty, and she wanted to wallow away. What kind of friend would she be if she lied and told Marley feelings would ever go away?  They wouldn’t go away, not really, not even if Marley was able to get all of the revenge that Vic was hoping for.  But maybe the revenge would help.  “You have to figure out who did it”, she said, sitting up straighter.  “You need to figure it out so we can take care of them.”

 Marley looked up to meet Vic’s eyes when the vampire grabbed her hands and squeezed them tightly. This was the most engaging Vic had ever really been with her– they weren’t good friends by any means, but they were friends. At least, to Marley. They just weren’t the type of friends who told each other about themselves or about how they were feeling. Marley hadn’t known what to expect when she’d shown up here, but she hadn’t known where else to go, who else to go to. She didn’t know if it was pathetic or not that Vic was her best friend, when previously all they’d been was fuck buddies. But Vic was right– a part of Marley had died and it was never coming back. All she could do now was mourn the loss and take revenge on the people who had taken that part of her from her. “Someone’s already looking for them. I’m not letting them get away with this,” she said, and the bite to her voice was filled with all the hatred and pain she possessed. “I’m going to rip each of their throats out one by one.”

 Vic put Marley’s hands back in her own lap and let out a breath, analyzing her face.  She seemed so broken, but Vic knew there were years more worth of pain Marley was about to face.  It wasn’t going to let up.  It was going to gnaw away at her until it overtook her very being, determining her choices before she had a chance to question the morality of what she was doing.  Marley wouldn’t be able to hold a moment of happiness without thinking of a sly smile, or a gentle touch, or a private moment.  There would be constant reminders, even with 400 years and 3,500 miles of separation between her and what she saw that night.

She swallowed, blinking away her thoughts and holding eye contact with Marley again.  “You said it was supposed to be you… what did you mean by that?  Did someone put a hit on you?”  She felt herself nod as Marley explained that a plan was already set in place.  “What makes you so sure it was more than one person?” 

 Marley blinked, looking down at her lap as her hands were let go of. She found herself craving the touch, though. Vic’s hands were cold where Erin’s were always warm. Sometimes they were covered in ink because she’d spent the day doing paperwork, and sometimes they smelled like lemon juice because she’d been preparing a body. Vic’s often smelled like alcohol. She worked at the Silver Bullet, after all, a place full of people that would kill her in a second, too, if they knew what she was. It was full of people that wanted to decapitate Vic as well. Marley reached back out, as if desperate, and grabbed Vic’s hand. “I’m the monster,” she said, her voice cracking, “I’m the bad person. Erin was just trying to help. Trying to give back power to those who were powerless, like she had been. They killed her because of what she was and it shouldn’t have been her. It should’ve been me.” She felt woozy with the admission. She grabbed her head with her free hand. “Too many footprints,” she mumbled. She squeezed Vic’s hand harder, knowing it wouldn’t hurt her. “You still work at that hunter bar. I– they’ll hurt you. They’ll do to you what they did to Erin. Why do you still work there? I can’t protect you if you work there.”

 Vic looked down at their hands between them.  Marley’s were so desperate for something to hold on to.  She felt like hers was barely there, detached from her body after decades of isolation.  Because of what she was.  Marley never did reveal to Vic exactly what Erin was.  She hated herself for wanting to ask at a time like this.  In the end, did it really matter? It must have, at least, to the countless vampires she’d guided into the arms of slayers. She wanted to tell Marley that she wasn’t a monster, that it was ridiculous to think she was, but she knew there was no talking a person out of a truth set so deep in their heart, no matter how much of a lie it was.  So instead she listened.   “And what if it had been you?  Are you implying that would somehow make this better?  Erin wouldn’t have had the balls to go after them and get revenge, Marley.  But you do.”  A sick, deep down part of her knew it had to have been Erin, if anyone.   Maybe these people, whoever they were, had to die.  Maybe killing Ering was the only way to make someone angry enough to get back at them. Fate could be so twisted in the way it got things done, and the people entangled within it were just puppets on a string.  “Do you know how long I’ve been doing this, Marley?  It’s not something I started doing when I moved to White Crest 10 years ago.  It’s been hundreds of years, and even the few times I’ve gotten caught, I’ve never gotten hurt.  I don’t need your protection because I’m not going to get hurt.”  She squeezed back at the hand in hers, trying to hold Marley’s wobbly attention.  “Do you understand that?  I’m not going to get hurt.  There’s still so much work to do.”

 “You don’t know that!” Marley spat back, teeth gritting. She knew Vic was only trying to help, trying to show Marley that that wouldn’t fix anything, but she hated the idea of someone calling Erin weak. “She wasn’t weak! She could’ve gotten revenge. She would have! And things would be better. Because she’s better. She actually has– had– the power to change this world.” She recoiled, though, and shook her head, still reeling from her inebriation. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like that– I know you can. I know. You’re strong and you don’t need me, but now I– I–” she hiccuped with a sob in her throat and looked up at Vic and thought the other woman probably hated her right now, with how pathetic she was, crying into her lap about another woman. “I need you. I can’t lose you, too. You– you’re–” words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, really. It didn’t seem fair, that she couldn’t control herself right now. All she wanted was to stop feeling so much. “You’re all I have left.”

 “I didn’t know much of Erin at all”, Vic agreed, her calm voice in direct contrast with the hurricane of anxiety and sorrow swelling inside.  At the idea of Marley dying… at the idea of her wanting to die…she felt like she wanted to bust.  Or even better, run away from White Crest and start somewhere else.  That’s what she did when things got too hard or she couldn’t handle what she was feeling, right?  It was so much easier to forget than to face it.  She made a mistake when she came to White Crest, and she vowed wherever she ended up next, she wouldn’t get close to people again.  It would be just her and Winnie.

She couldn’t figure out why the idea of that felt like a cruel punishment instead of a reprieve, like it was meant to.

“But then it didn’t have to be either one of you.  If she wasn’t supposed to die, then neither were you.  It’s childish for you to sit here and think of what-ifs or what-should-have-beens, because that won’t change anything, Marley.  It’ll just make things harder.  And I know you know that.”  She looked down at Marley, broken and devastated, and resisted the urge to brush some hair back from her face.  Hearing the words she uttered out next, Vic swallowed.  She wasn’t used to being so seen or so wanted, not since…

She resisted the urge to look away, choosing instead to lock eyes with Marley.  If she could turn the situation humorous, then maybe she could get away from the strange pulling in her stomach.  “You’re drunk”, she teased, letting out a curt breath, almost like a laugh.  “You have plenty of people, Marley.  You can’t pick someone so unreliable to be your last contact on Earth.”

 Marley tensed at the words and wished that Vic could have known Erin better. She had just been talking to Erin about how she thought her and Vic would get along, about how she’d wanted them to get along because Vic was her friend and Erin was her girlfriend and she wanted that. She wanted a life where she had friends and a partner and was happy. And now she had none of it. She felt like she had none of it. She felt like she was even losing Vic. Marley didn’t think she’d be able to stand it if she lost someone else. She was losing too much. For all her life she’d had nothing and now she was losing too much. Maybe all she deserved in life was nothing. Maybe she was meant to be alone and empty.

She didn’t want to be alone and empty, though.

Marley glanced away in shame. Vic was right and Marley did know that, but it hurt less to think that it should’ve been her. She wouldn’t be hurting right now if it had been her. But…then Erin would be hurting. And Vic. And fuck, maybe even Anita and Cass. People would hurt if she’d died, too. She shook her head. “I know,” she muttered, “I know.” She scrubbed at her face and tried to look up at Vic, tilting her head in confusion a bit. “You’ve always been reliable for me,” she murmured. And maybe she did have others, but none like Erin. None like Vic. Marley just wanted to stop aching. She looked back at Vic and that stupid, silly scoff on her face where she was trying not to seem so serious and Marley felt herself aching for comfort, but she didn’t know how to ask for it. She’d never known. So she just leaned forward and pressed her lips against Vic’s and hoped this could somehow be enough.

 Vic nodded, satisfied for the time being.  Marley knew.  She knew just like Vic knew.  The world hurt.  It hurt, and hurt, and hurt, until you felt like it couldn’t hurt anymore, when it surprised you and upped the ante again.  She pressed her lips together, sighing at Marley’s next statement.   She didn’t understand how Marley could think she was reliable.  She was sure the air she put off was cold and calculated, but people kept slipping through, somehow.  Morgan and Marley had already started to count on her… how many more people would join them?  The thought made her nervous in a way she didn’t understand.  Marley, for her part, didn’t seem to recognize the impact of her words.  Instead she was swaying and flowing, and suddenly their faces were too close for comfort.

Marley’s lips pressed against hers, and it felt deliberate.  Vic pulled away, harsh and surprised, and stood up from the couch.  “What are you doing?”, she asked, her hands coming up to touch her lips.  “I’m not… we’re not doing that, Marley.  You’re drunk.  And broken. And…”  She pushed back her hair, shaking her head incredulously.   Was she wrong about Marley breaking through?  Did Marley only ever see her as a means to fill a need?  “I’m not fucking you.  Not like this.”

 Vic pulled away as if she were disgusted and Marley pulled back as well, blinking in hurt and confusion. Vic was standing, moving away from her and Marley felt something tearing at the inside of her chest again, another throbbing pain that made her feel sick. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. She shook her head. “I–” she didn’t know what to say. “I don’t– I just–” she looked up at Vic, lost. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she admitted quietly, and Vic was right. She was drunk and broken but she didn’t know how to deal with the feelings. She didn’t know how to deal with the ache in her chest. She grabbed at it with a hand and clenched her shirt, bunching up the fabric between her fingers. “How do I stop feeling like this? How did you do it? How do I do this?”

 Vic blinked, staring unwavering at Marley.  She was asking impossible questions, and looking for even less possible answers.  How could she help Marley understand how to stop feeling like this when Vic had yet to figure it out herself?  Numb yourself, she wanted to tell her.  Get over it.  Shut it out.  She caught a glimpse of her hands in her peripheral vision as she stared ahead, the paint stains on her otherwise smooth skin a cross reminder that none of those methods worked.  There was no way to stop feeling like this.  There was no way to stop hurting.  400 years of numbing and getting over and shutting out only worked for a little while.  But one tiny crack through the surface and it all leaked through.  She felt tears fill her eyes before she could stop them.  “I don’t know”, she answered finally.  She felt her hands ball up into fists, and her nails dug into her skin underneath.  “But I know it’s not by doing that.  All that’s going to do is make you more confused.”  She took a step back toward Marley, tentative and unsure.  She didn’t want to give her the wrong idea, but a part of her longed for physical touch too.  “Maybe you should get some rest.  Maybe that’s all you can do right now.” 

 Vic didn’t have any answers and Marley didn’t know why she’d expected her to, why she’d expected anyone to. She felt herself crumpling, curling into herself. She was afraid she’d never stop feeling like this, she didn’t want to feel like this forever. Torn and broken and ruined. She finally stopped fighting back the tears, and they ran silently down her face. Maybe Vic was right, maybe all she could do right now was let herself be useless. She didn’t want to be useless. But she didn’t have a job, and she didn’t get to feel better about any of this. Maybe this was her punishment, for allowing the world to make her into a monster. Maybe she deserved this pain. “Okay,” she croaked, not quite moving yet. Her lip quivered. “Can–” she swallowed, “will you stay with me? I won’t try anything, I swear, I just…” her grief clung to her chest and made her shudder. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

 Marley was disappointed, clearly, that Vic couldn’t offer any help, and the silence between them grew.  Vic studied the floor, her brows pressed together in concentration and frustration.  At Marley’s request, her eyes traveled back to her friend.  There was a beat of silence, the air tense with both of their anxieties, until she answered.  But it was too much to admit to Marley that she didn’t want to be alone either. “You’ll sleep in my bed”, she said, her voice stoic.  “None of the guest room beds have been remade in weeks. They’re likely full of dust.”  

After Vic guided Marley toward the bedroom, they got ready together in general silence.  Vic offered a set of warm, clean clothes.  They definitely didn’t match Marley’s style, but neither of them cared to comment on it.  Their eyes met often, and the looks they shared conveyed so much more between them than words could.  Vic found herself in Marley’s eyes, and in turn felt more seen and heard than she had in years.