By Friday, David could fully admit that he was avoiding Louis. But Louis was making it pretty easy. He'd been distant since their conversation and, though, David knew Louis had a lot on his plate, he didn't think he could forgive this so easily.

Even as friends, he thought he deserved to hear from Louis that he was leaving. And now it was their last day together. Maybe forever.

David hated that.

He didn't know what to do about it, either. Or even if there was anything to do about it.

Louis seemed, if not mad, then upset, too. He hadn't even tried to talk to him since Wednesday. David might have thought he was giving him the cold shoulder if he didn't seem to be equally avoiding everyone else. It was a bit strange, but maybe it was just Louis's way of detaching himself from the scene before he left.

David hated that, too.

“All right, people, last shoot of the day!” Nabila shouted.

David was equal parts excited over and dreading this scene. It was the scene. The one that marked both the end of Louis's time on the show and Don Christoph's. It was a beautiful scene, but it was also... the end.

“I’m sorry,” Louis cut in, “I need a moment before we continue.”

David did an actual double take at that, looking over at Louis. He did look a bit off. Was he sick? He must be, because David had never heard Louis ask for a break. Especially not on a scene like this one.

Nabila frowned, but gestured for Louis to go do what he needed. “Take ten, everyone.”

David froze, staring after him with worry. Was he actually sick? Or was he emotional about leaving? It couldn't be the latter.

Unless...

David shot a worried look in Nabila's direction.

She seemed just as concerned as David which made David twice as concerned as before, then she caught his eye with an expression that seemed to ask, ‘Are you going, or should I?’

Without another thought, David sprinted out the door after Louis, a dreadful hunch settling in his stomach.

Louis must have been walking quickly, because he was already almost to the back exit when David finally caught sight of his back.

“Louis, wait!” David rushed after him, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him to a stop. “Where are you going?"

Louis didn't look at him, but David saw his expression anyway. His face was tight and drawn, his brows furrowed and lips in a thin line.

“Let go, David,” Louis said, voice rough.

David didn’t.

Instead, he tugged gently on the arm until Louis was facing him, though he still didn’t make eye-contact. Louis's mouth twitched as though he was going to say something before his face sort of fell.

David’s heart started to break with the news he knew he was about to her.

“Rosemarie?” he asked, feeling hot tears prickling behind his eyes. He didn't need to ask. There was nothing else that could put that look in his eyes.

Louis just gave a tiny shake of his head, eyes squeezing shut.

David took in a shaky breath, his other hand coming up to grip Louis's shoulder.

Louis's voice broke as he said, “She’s... gone.”

“Fuck,” was all David could say.

"David—" Louis said, his tone small, almost pleading.

All David could think to do was tug Louis into his arms. So he did.

Louis went stiff for a split second before strong arms clamped almost painfully tight around David's ribs, but still not tight enough. David’s hand tangled into the hair at the nape of Louis's neck, the other pressed hard against Louis's back. Stubble scratched against his skin as Louis nose dug into his shoulder.

“When?” David asked thickly.

Louis's arms tensed and David gave his neck a reassuring squeeze.

“Wednesday," he choked out. "I found her... when I got home."

David's vision blurred and he swallowed, running his hand up and down Louis's back even as he tried not to start sobbing himself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” David said. His arms tightened reflexively, as though holding him tighter could somehow shield him from the grief.

Louis let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you didn’t know. I didn’t tell you.” The words were harsh, but Louis was pressed so firmly against David’s shoulder that he could feel the moisture of his breath against his skin.

"You should have," David said, not an admonishment, simply a reminder.

Louis was silent for a long time, but he didn't pull away, either.

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I... didn't know how." David thought that he was talking about more than just Rosemarie, but the other seemed so insignificant now.

"It doesn't matter how," David said. "You don't have to go through everything alone, you know. I still—I'm still your friend. Whatever else we are or aren't, I am your friend."

And I still love you. He kept that part to himself, but gave him another squeeze to emphasize the words.

“I would have come,” David whispered, rubbing a thumb over Louis's nape.

It had been far too long since he'd held Louis. The scent and warmth of him was achingly familiar and David thought he'd be content to stay like this forever. Luckily, Louis seemed no more inclined to let go than he was.

Sighing, David pressed a kiss against the bare skin of Louis's neck. It wasn’t a conscious action, he just couldn’t help himself. Louis sucked in a surprised breath and David tensed as he realized what he'd done, but, after a long moment, Louis gave a little nod against David's neck.

"I know," Louis said.

“I can tell Nabila,” David murmured. “She’d understand.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“No,” Louis said, and broke away from the embrace.

David felt bereft at the loss.

Louis straightened, looking up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath. When he looked back down at David—who was still blinking away tears—he looked utterly composed again.

“Why?” David asked, thinking he’d probably like an afternoon off, and she wasn’t even his sister. He didn't know how Louis had gotten through yesterday's shoot. But, then, Louis always handled things a little differently.

“I want to finish this,” he said. “I want to finish this and then...” Louis shook his head. “I just need to finish this.”

David studied his expression. If that was what he needed, then that was what they'd do. David took a moment to compose himself then gave Louis what he hoped was an encouraging smile, though it felt a little sad on his face.

“Then let’s finish it."

Louis nodded, his expression grim.

David wanted to pull him into another embrace. Instead, he just reached out and squeezed his arm before the two of them headed back to the studio.

Nabila caught their eyes as they entered, but Louis just nodded in that almost haughty way that said he was finished with whatever had caused the interruption and they should hurry up and continue. David gave her a thumbs up though he couldn't quite bring himself to smile.

Regardless, it was surprisingly easy to slip back into Marcus Lazarus’s mindset. The façade came over him almost at once, maybe because of the nature of the scene itself. It was, in a way, perfect; a scene of grief mirroring grief.

Marcus choked on his breath, spitting out a mouthful of blood and bile. The black wolf had taken a chunk out of his shoulder, and without his supernatural healing, he would have been long dead by now. That didn’t stop it from hurting like hell, though.

Marcus winced as he struggled to his knees, half-dragging himself across the room.

Where was Don?

The demon was dead, his many-horned head lying on the floor two feet from his body.

Marcus grunted as he levered himself up, leaning all of his weight on the desk as he dragged himself to his feet.

“Don,” Marcus called, then coughed again, his eyes going in and out of focus. “It’s over.”

A gurgling gasp pricked his ears and Marcus turned, nearly losing his grip on the desk as he caught sight of a pair of long legs behind an upturned desk. The trousers were nondescript black, but Marcus knew those shoes. Shiny, oxblood leather, always carefully polished to a shine.

Ink-dark blood had started to soak into the leather from where it pooled.

Marcus shoved aside chairs, catching himself on each desk as he stumbled and lurched towards the upturned desk.

“Don,” Marcus repeated more urgently, falling to his knee just on the wrong side of the desk as his ravaged leg gave out on him. He scrambled forward, through the widening pool of onyx.

“No,” Marcus said, his breath freezing in his chest. “No, don’t do this.”

His face contorted as he stared down at his friend. The sword that had dealt the final blow lay in a limp hand at Don's side. But Don’s neck, too, had been severed in a gruesome gash. Black blood bubbled from Don’s lips, even as he gave Marcus a feral smile, eyes flashing in the electric glow of the police station.

Marcus fell to his knees beside him. “What is this? You said you could handle it,” Marcus said, gathering Don into his arms, even as he tried and failed to staunch the bleeding. He could feel both grief and rage building behind his eyes, something wild and furious roaring through his blood.

“I... handled it,” Don coughed.

Handled. The demon was dead. The town was safe. And Don Christoph was....

“You did,” Marcus relented, voice tight.

Don gave a wet chuckle. “Finally,” he broke off, coughing. “Finally agreeing... with me?”

“Old dogs, new tricks. Go to hell,” Marcus said, grinning down at him, though it quickly twisted into a grimace, his vision starting to blur from either blood loss or tears.

Don’s hand came up to grip Marcus arm, desperate and clawing. He pulled Marcus closer, staring at him with those ancient and merciless eyes eyes. “It’s... your town now.”

“What happened to our town?” Marcus said, forcing the levity past the raw emotion caught in his throat. “You trying to pass all the hard work onto me?”

“It’s always been your town, my... friend,” Don said. He let out a last rattling breath before his hand fell away.

“Don,” Marcus said, giving he vampire a shake. “Don!” The light had gone from his eyes, though, his skin beginning to char and blacken in the final death of the undead.

“No!” Marcus growled, hand fisting into he front of Don’s shirt. “You bastard.”

Don's form shriveled and cracked before him, slipping like sand through Marcus's fingers. At last, Marcus's hands fell limp to his sides, the enormity of everything they had lost and everything that they had won hitting him all at once.

“I’ll protect this place,” Marcus swore. “But not for you, dammit. I’ll protect it because it needs protecting, you bastard. Not for you.”

Marcus closed his eyes, jaw clenching so tight he could feel his teeth shift as blood, or sweat, or something else tracked down his cheeks.

As quickly and silently as he had appeared, Don Christoph faded back into nothing.

“Cut!” Nabila called. “Fantastic work. David, Louis, that was absolutely amazing.”

Louis had been pulled off the set to get the final shot of Marcus kneeling in a pool of vampire blood, staring heavenward as though in prayer. When David caught his eye, though, he could see the same raw emotion in them that he'd been feeling. David licked his lips, then cleared his throat, his entire head aching from the tears.

They were all real and he had to look away before he burst into sobs on set. When he looked back to Louis, he had schooled his emotions again, his face displaying nothing but that same passive expression he'd worn all of yesterday. Only, now, David knew the secret he was keeping behind that mask.

“Great work everyone,” Nabila said. “Now, I’ll let you go and get ready for Louis's send-off and a congratulations for making it to the midpoint of the season! Six o’clock at Blue’s. Free drinks and dinner. You guys have earned it.”

After a quick shower to wash off the fake blood, David and Louis were both waylaid by a stream of congratulations and thank yous, hellos and goodbyes. David kept glancing towards Louis who graciously bid everyone goodbye and thanked them for taking care of him on the show.

David just wanted to leave.

He felt raw, inside and out, and he wanted to get Louis out of there, too. He wasn’t sure what Louis needed, or how he could possibly make anything better, but he knew it wasn't this.

"Thanks, you all, but we have to run now," David said, grabbing Louis by the wrist and pulling him towards the door. Louis glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, but David didn't say anything else until they made it to the parking lot.

"You didn't have to do that," Louis said. "But... thank you."

David nodded.

There was an awkward pause, then Louis said, "Well, then, goodbye, David."

The words hit him like a ton of bricks and he froze in place as Louis turned away. Was that it? Was this their goodbye? David couldn't imagine that Louis would show up to his farewell party. He didn't like parties to begin with and David, who did like parties to begin with, had a knot in his stomach imagining going out for drinks right now.

Was this really goodbye? Or was this Louis trying to push him away and shoulder everything himself. Again.

By the time he'd made up his mind, Louis was half way across the parking lot. David sucked in a breath and sprinted after him. He couldn't just leave things like this.

“Lou, wait up,” David called, realizing a second too late what he'd called him. Louis's posture went ramrod straight, but he did stop, turning back to David with a guarded expression.

“Let me come?” David asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Louis's lips parted, but he didn't speak. David wondered if he'd misread it and Louis really did want to be alone. But... David didn't think he did.

I think you see him how I see him, Rosemarie had said. David didn't know how Rosemarie saw him, but David saw him as Louis. As a man. Messy and flawed. A little prickly and a little condescending. Talented and funny. And everything David had ever wanted.

Louis closed his mouth, then gave an abrupt shake of his head. David stifled a wince.

“You don't even know where I’m going,” Louis said. “I could be boarding a flight back to Weldstone Harbor.”

That was true. David didn't care.

“Let me come,” David said, more a statement this time than a question. "I'll go with you. Wherever you're going. So let me come with you."

A horrible sort of vulnerability passed over Louis's face and he looked away, toward the street and the crunching of tires over fresh snow. David wrapped a hand around Louis's wrist and just held it.

“Her funeral is on Sunday,” Louis said. “My plane leaves Monday morning.”

David nodded, keeping his grip on Louis's arm.

“I—” Louis started. “She’d want you to be there.”

David nodded again, feeling a bit like a bobblehead.

“Of course,” David said. “Of course.” His grip on Louis's wrist tightened.

Louis allowed the touch for a moment more before he pulled his arm free and gestured for him to follow. They made their way to Louis's car and then, to David’s surprise, Louis tossed the keys to him and got in the passenger’s side.

“Where to?” David asked, turning the car on and letting it idle for a moment as he waited for directions.

“Anywhere,” Louis said, voice tight. “Just not back... not back to her house.”

David nodded, pulling the car out onto the pavement. The only direction he could think to drive was into town, but that must be nearly as rife with memories as Rosemarie's house. A party was not what Louis needed, either, so David took them straight through until they hit the freeway. They would drive until they found something or somewhere that was just away. Away from all the memories and the grief.

And if they didn't find it, they would just drive.