Jack's Motel

Façade

There was something I'd always admired about the ocean. The beauty of the never-ending blue land was something I'd always taken for granted. It went on for miles and miles, until it connected with the clouds and the sky. I'd never seen anything quite so gentle. Perhaps that was why people imagined the seas as calming. Even in a storm, the dark blue melded with the grey of the clouds and the black of the sky, withholding evil in a saintly picture.

I could never trust something so unpredictable. I'd grown up in Texas, for the most part - until I was sixteen. My parents owned a small shop on the edge of a somewhat small community. They'd inherited it from my mother's father and his father and so on. When my mother died, the first thing my father did was sell it. It was too powerful a reminder of her.

My mother loved the ocean. I shared her wonderment of the ocean. Wonderment of the small triangles out on the water, and the waves created out at sea by boats soaring across the water. Of the small creatures in the tide pools and the tiny fish brought up by waves to scurry around your feet and back into the ocean. She wanted to share all of it with me. These were my preferred last memories of my mother.

They were happier than the harsh white and blue of the hospital bed she'd last been in.

I'd never again seen a love like theirs. But I hoped I never would.

I always thought I'd go back and re buy the shop, restart the business and maybe raise a family on the same life I'd had. It was a perfect dream. But, by the time I'd turned nineteen, the land had been built into community housing. And by then, I'd already killed my first vampire. My childhood had been buried with my mother. There was no use in going back now.

"Mitch. Please, wake up." I blinked once. I wiggled my fingers, testing their use. A hand squeezed my own. I blinked again, my eyelashes fluttering as my opened my eyes. A dark brown dominated my senses and I sat up quickly, my head rushing.

"Slow down there. Careful." It was Alex.

His hair was a mess. One side flat, as if he'd been lying only on that side. There were dark lines under his eyes and his forehead was wrinkled with frown lines. He looked exhausted. My gaze traveled down to his hand in my own, but it shot back up with a sniff from him. His eyes gave you a sense of helplessness, of loss.

And in that moment, I forgot everything he'd done as a demon. All I wanted was to hug him, feel him, make sure that it was really him. And that's what I did. I launched myself towards him, touching any part of him I could; squeezing his cheeks, brushing the pad of my fingers on his eyebrows, his nose, his lips. I had to make sure he was real.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He whispered as I grasped onto him. My arms wound around him and he buried his head in my neck, repeating himself. But I didn't care about any of that. He was back, with me. He was safe.

I pulled away from him slowly, and moved over on the bed. He carefully followed me, lying beside my body on the bed. I turned towards him and laid my head on his chest. His arms surrounded me and I closed my eyes again, breathing in his scent, feeling him. His hand ran itself through my hair, combing out small tangles as gently as he could.

"What happened?" I asked him, and I felt his chest rise before he answered.

"Kirst came back and helped Scott put the last dose in me." He responded tensely.

I shifted a little, coming up on my elbow. "What about the mark?" He glanced down at his arm and I let out a defeated breath, running my fingers over the curse. "We'll figure it out. We always do." I promised him, looking back into his eyes. He tried to smile, but I knew he didn't believe me. He always thought he was doomed. And I could never change his mind.