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protegeons asked: i've got you. ( rebekah demands one too and i'm too lazy to change accounts so let's just pretend. )

Send “I’ve got you” to help my muse wash off blood from their body

shoulders heaving, he reaches for breath he no longer needs as he eyes taken in the scattered corpses around him. despite the twilight glow of the forest, it’s fairly cool this summer’s night. jeremy gilbert stands alone in a ring of death, one last body falling from his grasp into an undignified heap beneath him. euphoria pulses through his veins, the itch in his gums finally satisfied. it had been pure luck he had stumbled upon this campsite, much to the chagrin of his own struggling humanity. they shouldn’t have set up so close to the house…

“jeremy.” his own name on rose lips, a whisper he’s only able to hear thanks to his recent change. his head tilts in consideration of her face, and the dark veins vanish from under his eyes. he’s not sure if she’s sounds as a mother would to a child, or a woman to a lover, but either way– if she’s disappointed or full of approval– it’s the worst possible thing. guilt replaces the blood high, disgust choking him like a drunken stepfather.

he wouldn’t allow himself to give the outward reaction that’s screaming beneath the surface of his skin. the blonde has already been front row to the jeremy gilbert pity party once before, and surely he wasn’t that pathetic to force her through an encore presentation?

instinct tickles his heel, enticing him to run– run as far and as fast as his legs will allow. he couldn’t let hope see him like this. those beautiful innocent eyes always looked at him with such unconditional love. standing there, he can still feel the touch of her smooth skin as her chubby hand wrapped around his calloused finger. such light, such love, such devotion. and she had no idea that the man who rocked her to sleep every night was gone. he couldn’t see her again; he couldn’t be the monster in her room.

but as rebekah stretches out her hand to him, jeremy’s feet begin to close the distance between them. “i’ve got you,” she whispers, and their fingers clasp together. his expression is blank, and yet all the more telling, as the original vampire leads them back inside.

he doesn’t remember what comes next, only coming back into awareness when he’s gently nudged to sit atop the toilet lid of what he didn’t remember being such a tiny bathroom. her fingers wring a starch white washcloth clear of excess moisture, and he bemuses darkly on the obvious metaphor. innocence lost, stolen by violence.

his eyes fix on the wall behind her as that first swipe of material attempts in vain to wash away the stain of what he’s done. the sickly sweet stench burns his nostrils; even in his mind, he cannot run away from their terrified faces, screaming for help as they fumbled to get away.

“jeremy.” that accented voice again, subtly urging his attention, requesting his gaze. his nose scrunches in an attempt to steady his surging emotions, false-starting once before he’s finally able to meet her eyes. he’s greeted by concern– but more than that– he’s greeted by empathy. this is a woman who offers no judgments, only grief for his own pain. a pain she surely takes responsibility for. “can you tell me what happened?”

his eyelashes flutter as her thumb rubs against his cheek and smears the sticky substance against his undead flesh like war paint. but there was no war. there was no enemy. there was only… this. “i-i don’t know–… i was just trying to get them to move their tents. or just turn their fucking music down… and then, i heard hope crying, and then the tall guy said something about how he’d consider it if the blonde came out and told him…” the censoring is more for jeremy’s benefit. no doubt that in rebekah’s several centuries of life, she’s heard just about every vile thing that could possibly come out of a male human’s mouth.

he glances down to his hands, picking at the drying blood under his fingernails as she continues to wipe at the stubble of his jaw. when he finally completes his sentence, the words are spoken far too matter of fact for his own comfort. “…and so i ripped his head off in front of his girlfriend.”

V
R
mikaelsonsister  v; and baby makes three  i've always been of the mindset that jeremy's prolific drug use in his early teens  his staunch loyalty and unwavering dedication to uncover the truth about vampires  all reflect at the very basic level an addictive personality  for the most part he's either completely disinterested or completely all in  and in the early days of dealing with blood lust  the ability to control himself just really isn't there  not for lack of trying!  but since his best and worst abilities are enhanced  he's kinda predisposed to losing the reins here  and while fairly traumatic it will also yield some understanding of situations he was fairly harsh towards as a human  also me: literally only has like 2 sentences referring to washing off blood  the rest is just... this  revengeandretribution  answered  do you think you could have ever loved me? (jerbekah).  
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