Halloween

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Pre Cid/Vincent.
Warnings: None.
Summary: It’s All Hallows in Nibelheim.

This story includes an illustration by Animama

Time passed like a sluggish river, the days becoming weeks becoming months becoming years. Vincent slept, hoping the agony in his heart, mind and body would pass, but every time he opened his eyes, those feelings were there, slamming down on him like a physical weight, crushing his fragile spirit.

Time gave him a chance to analyze his weaknesses. He was not brave. He was not strong. He was shy and quiet and wholly unsuited for life as a Turk. He couldn’t stop Lucrecia. He couldn’t stop Hojo. He couldn’t even save himself. Vincent would never admit this to anyone or anything, but his self-imposed isolation had far more to do with his own personal shame and humiliation than it did any sort of punishment. He simply didn’t think he could look another human being in the eye ever again.

That was not to say he did not on occasion leave the coffin, and the little room in which it lay. He did. He would creep out like a shadow, ignored by the unholy things that prowled this place, mistaken for one of their own. He would wander through the manor house, alone, depressed, searching for forgiveness, never finding it, returning at last to his crypt to sleep a while longer.

Occasionally, during holidays and festivals, he would leave the crypt, walking to the upper levels of the house to peer out the windows and watch the gaiety below. Vincent had never been one for festivals, though he’d let Lucrecia drag him to a few. She had loved them, and it was the memory of her smile that brought him intermittently to the edge of Nibelheim’s many events.

Halloween, especially, brought him forth. Lucrecia had adored Halloween, and her love of the day affected everyone. She’d even talked Hojo into attending a party – no small feat. She hadn’t managed to get him into a costume, but she did get Vincent into one. She dressed him as a princess. Normally he would have been humiliated beyond words, but she was so delighted with how he looked that it made the situation okay. Unfortunately one of the other Turks was equally delighted with the effect and followed him around for most of the evening.

So Halloween night he would creep forth and watch the children in the street, dressed in costumes, feasting on sweets, playing games. Then as the night grew late, the small children would be sent to bed and the older kids would have their turn, telling tales, dancing, scaring each other and playing pranks. Occasionally the pranks took the form of daring each other to go into the old manor, and more than once Vincent had come face-to-face with some terrified teenaged boy, clutching a flashlight and shaking at the knees. Usually the boy would scream and run for the hills. Once Vincent had been grabbed and groped until the randy drunken seventeen-year-old realized that what he had in his arms was not warm, not breathing, and definitely not his girlfriend. In that instance the kid had filled his shorts before running out the front door screaming something about a vampire.

Vincent still giggled a bit to himself about that one.

So Vincent had become a part of the holiday that Lucrecia had adored. Many stories were told about the vampire residing in the old Shinra Manor, though no one could attest to having been harmed by him. No children vanished in the night, no bodies rose from the dead, not even so much as a rabbit turned up drained of blood. The villagers had no idea what the vampire was preying on, but so long as it was not them, they didn’t care and saw no reason to go after him.

They did leave the occasional strange offering; wine, blood pudding, and other things people thought a vampire might like. Just this evening some mean-spirited girls tied another girl to the stair rails in the hopes he would eat her. They had left her in only her bra and panties, possibly for humiliation purposes, or to make her more appealing as bait. They left her sobbing in the failing light, and there she remained until a little after sunset, which was when Vincent emerged from his casket to watch the All Hallows festivities.

The girl screamed bloody murder when she saw him. Vincent simply stared, trying to comprehend what he was looking at. Then he sighed. He cut her loose and gave her the suit jacket from his old Turk uniform to wear home, not realizing his old ID card was still in the breast pocket. The vampire now had a name. Vincent Valentine, murdered fifteen years ago. The girl’s mother later approached the door of the house and left him a bottle of wine as a thank-you gift, but Vincent did not approach it. He knew the villagers would be waiting, wanting a glimpse of him, possibly to talk to him. He did not want to talk to anyone. He let the wine sit until he was certain they had left, then he crept out of the shadows to accept his gift.

He took the bottle to the kitchen; a room he had not been to in… well… ever, now that he thought about it. It just wasn’t a place he thought of. He didn’t need to eat anymore, and he couldn’t cook anyway, so why go? Bottles of wine he had been given in the past had simply been placed, untouched, in his crypt. But this bottle was special. This was a reward for having done something kind, not an appeasement in hopes he would not eat anyone. He decided to have a glass. It had been so long since he’d had wine…

He opened the kitchen door, and stopped, staring at the sight that met his eyes. A bottle of unopened champagne sat on the dirty table amidst gifts, once brightly-wrapped, now covered in years-old grime. Balloons that had once bobbed lay deflated on the floor, proclaiming in blue script “Congratulations, it’s a Boy!”. A large card, perched in a bassinette, read; ‘Congratulations, Lucrecia, and Happy Birthday Baby Sephiroth!”

It was like a fist in the guts. Vincent left the wine on the table and fled back to his crypt, almost diving into his casket, pulling the lid closed and weeping. It all came back to him; the guilt, the pain, the shame. He should have stopped her. Why couldn’t he stop her? Vincent hid in his coffin, uttering the occasional quiet sob, his shoulders shaking, willing his grief to subside, vowing to never leave this room again.

The hours passed. The small children had their Halloween, and went to bed, leaving the night to the older boys and girls. Then they too found their way to bed as the night grew cold and eerie. Finally Nibelheim was silent, the streets empty. A wind blew quietly, scattering dead leaves, whispering to the graves in the old cemetery, holding conversations with the dead. Bats flitted through the cold darkness, and small shadows made brief, cautious appearances, melting back into the darkness once more.

Eventually he drifted into a light doze, lying on his side. He was too accustomed to things pulling at his locked door to pay the sound much heed; even when things did get in, they never looked in the coffin. Usually all they did was wander around mindlessly and crash into things until he became annoyed and shooed them out. He was part of the manor. The monsters here did not bother him.

He did not hear the door open. Nor did he hear the sound of footsteps approaching the coffin. He did however smell… something. It drew him out of his slumber, rousing his curiosity. Then he heard something that truly puzzled him; voices. Children’s voices, and one teenager.

“Cid you’s not s’possed be smoking, you gets a spanking if you caught.”

“Shut up, short shit, I’m seventeen. I can smoke if I want.”

“I not short!”

“Yes you are,” said another voice, this one a little girl.

What the hell was going on out there? Vincent raised his head, listening.

“So where is this vampire?” asked the older boy, Cid.

“I don’t know,” said the little boy. “But vampires sleep in coffins, right? There’s coffins!”

Vincent raised an eyebrow. He was NOT in the mood for this. If his coffin opened and he saw anything even remotely resembling holy water, a stake, and a wreath of garlic he was going to be extremely displeased.

The lid flew open, and Vincent found himself staring up at a teenaged boy, cigarette in his mouth, dressed in jeans and an old bomber jacket. He had sandy-blonde hair, and the gawky frame of a kid who was going to be quite large when he finished growing. With him were a little boy with wild blonde hair that his mother had put in a ponytail in a desperate attempt to control it, and a little girl in a pale blue dress.

“Is you awake, Mr. Vampire?” asked the little boy.

“HOLY CRAP IT’S A VAMPIRE!” yelled Cid.

“We tolds you,” said the little girl, rolling her eyes.

The small boy climbed into the coffin and sat on Vincent, slipping and ending up in his face on top of him. Perfect. This would be a most charming situation were the boy a mere twenty years older. Vincent thought he and the girl looked to be about six.

“I’m Tifa,” said the girl. She pointed at the child seated on Vincent. “That’s Cloud. And that’s Cid, he’s baby-sitting us.”

“And doing an admirable job of keeping you out of trouble, I see,” said Vincent.

“It’s not Cid’s fault,” said Tifa. “We found his cigarettes an’ promised not to tell on him if he took us here.”

“Tifa found the cigarettes,” said Cloud. “I found the magazines with the naked ladies in them. And one with naked boys.”

Cid just stared, mortified. Vincent felt a headache coming on.

“Why are you people in my room?”

“It’s Halloween!” said Tifa. “And me an’ Cloud thought, since you lives here all alone with no friends that we would come visit.”

Oh joy.

“Visit?” inquired Vincent.

Yeah!” said Cloud. “We didn’t think it was fair you were here all alone so we brought all the things you need for a good Halloween. We brung you a jack o’ lantern, and a big bowl of candy, and Tifa wanted to bring you a costume but Cid said if you was a vampire you was already in one.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes at the terrified teen. “I’m not a vampire.”

“Well what are you?” asked Tifa, brown eyes large.

Vincent showed her his brass claws. “Gorgon.”

“COOL!” Cloud enthused. “What’s a gorgon?”

“It’s a type of monster,” said Cid quietly, looking at Vincent. “Half-human, half something else, with wings and claws of brass, right?”

Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Very good.”

“You don’t gots no wings,” said Cloud.

Vincent picked him up and set him aside, musing that if the kid wanted to see wings all he had to do was crawl on him one more time. Vincent didn’t like being crawled on, or touched, or hugged, or uninvited house pests… guests…

“You children do realize it’s dangerous down here,” said Vincent.

“Nah,” said Cloud. “Cid can beat up the monsters.”

Vincent stepped out of his casket, wraith thin and wild as the All Hallow’s Night around him, well over six feet in height and clearly a supernatural creature. He walked over to Cid, looking down him.

“I don’t think so,” he said softly.

The blue eyes narrowed. “I could sure as hell kick your ass, you skinny claw-monster!”

“I’m not going to deny the reek of old tobacco and cheap beer is a bit of a deterrent,” said Vincent.

Tifa gasped. “CID YOU BEEN DRINKING AND SMOKING?!”

Vincent lowered his head and sniffed delicately, then gave Cid a small, nasty smile. “That, and other things,” he said softly.

Cid was mortified. Tifa gently tugged at Vincent’s cloak.

“Are you going to eat Cid?”

‘Ask me in about ten years, kid, I think he’ll be quite an attractive piece when he’s all grown up.’ “No. I am not going to eat Cid.”

Vincent’s attention was drawn by Cloud covering a casket with a tablecloth, and then taking from a basket a collection of treats. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin muffins, more candy, caramel apples, and taffy. Following this was a handful of scented candles shaped like skulls, and one small black one to put in the jack o’ lantern.

“Why are you children doing this?” he asked.

“Because you were nice to Julie,” said Tifa. “The bad girls tied her up and she told us you let her go and gave her a coat to wear so she didn’t have to run home in her undies. She’s my favourite baby-sitter, and Cid likes her too.”

Having seen Julie in her afore-mentioned undies, Vincent could understand what Cid would find attractive about her. Still, he couldn’t help but feel he didn’t deserve a thank you.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said softly.

“Sure we did,” said Cid. “You helped Julie, and no one should be alone for Halloween. It’s the coolest holiday of the year.”

It certainly had been, once upon a time. Maybe one day it could be again.

***---***

It was not a long visit. Tifa and Cloud were already tired when they arrived. After a couple hours, with the sky showing the faintest hints of impending daybreak, Vincent walked Cid, Tifa and Cloud to the front door. Cid was carrying Cloud, who was asleep against his shoulder, in one arm, and leading Tifa by the hand. She was yawning and quiet, and likely a little nauseous from everything she had eaten. She did not protest when Cid stopped in the doorway, pausing to look at Vincent.

“Will we ever see you again?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Vincent softly.

Cid gazed at him. He was a handsome kid, Vincent thought. One day he would be a very handsome man.

“Can I kiss you?” Cid asked, almost shyly. “I mean I know I’m only seventeen and you’re probably, like, way older, but… I never kissed a guy before and I’d sorta like you to be the first one.”

“Me? Why?”

Cid blushed, feeling self-conscious. “I think you’re pretty.”

Vincent blinked and gave his head a slight shake. “What?”

“I think you’re pretty.”

Clearly the kid had bad eyesight. So much for his dreams of being a pilot.

“I’m not sure that’s wise.”

Cid grinned, a wicked light in his eyes. “Tough,” he said softly.

He briefly released Tifa’s hand to catch hold of Vincent’s cloak and gently pull him down, closing his eyes as their lips met. It was nice. Not earthshaking, but nice. It would probably have been better if Cid was older, but there were worse ways to end an evening than being a teen boy’s first kiss.

The kiss ended, and Cid released him, suddenly self-conscious and shy. “Can… can I call you sometime?”

“Anytime after your twenty-first birthday.”

“Yeah I thought you’d say that.” He looked disappointed, but he didn’t press the matter. He paused, gazing at Vincent for a brief time. “Bye,” he finally said.

Vincent watched them go; Cid carrying Cloud, leading Tifa by her hand. Then, once they were safely beyond the gate, he closed the door and went back in the house, heading down stairs to his crypt. He settled into his casket, closing the lid, and fell into a death-like slumber.

The next time Vincent opened his eyes, the lid of his coffin had been yanked off. He was being lifted like a sleeping cat by a pair of powerful arms, and held against a broad chest. There was a smell, too, something familiar. Cigarette smoke. He heard a woman giggle, and felt a gentle hand smooth down his hair.

“He looks a little bleary,” said a second voice, that of a young male.

“He’s okay,” said the man holding him. “He’ll wake up.”

Vincent blinked, looking at the small blonde man, and the young woman with the long brown hair gazing at him, smiling at his befuddled expression. There was something familiar about them, but he couldn’t think what. The woman stroked his hair again as Vincent looked up at the man holding him. He was sure he had seen these three before. But it was not until the man holding him spoke that he figured out who they were.

“You did say I could call anytime after I turned twenty-one.”

Vincent blinked, still trying to wake up, but managed a small smile.

“I did. What took you so long?”