So I read this prompt and immediately, my mind went to Crossfire Trail. I know that you’re a fan of the movie, so I don’t have to worry about whether a crossover is okay...right? I wrote this in less than an hour, so forgive any mistakes I made.
The title is, of course, a quote from that movie, said by Joe Gill over J.T.’s grave.
May you be in heaven a few days before the devil knows you're dead
The vampire Bo Dorn had sired him.
He had turned him from a sweet, naïve boy into a ravenous monster. If he tries hard enough, J.T. can remember what he had been like in those days. He can remember laughing at Rock’s jokes, and how in awe he had been of Rafe Covington.
They’re gone, now.
Bo Dorn had turned him, and that night, he had risen. He had awoken hungry and feral, and they, Bo and Bruce Barkow, they had laughingly led him to the house where the three men who had been his friends were drinking, mourning him.
They had taken him to the door, and then, they had let the monster loose.
God, he can still remember the taste of his friends’ lifeblood, the sweetness on his lips, the warmth that began to flow through his dead veins as their hearts stilled.
Rafe had been the last to go.
“J.T.,” he’d said, “Son, this ain’t you, it ain’t you.”
“No,” the young vampire had replied, “No, it ain’t me. I’m better. I’m better than you,” he’d said and laughed. As he finished his former mentor off, he had whispered into the dying man’s ear, “I don’t need you.”
There isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t regret that, the things he’d said, his first kills.
They hadn’t been his only victims, no, far from it. They called him the Scourge of America, the Deathbringer, the Wolf. For a hundred years, he had wreaked havoc across the country, relishing in his kills, and caring nothing for the damage he had caused.
Until one day, a few decades ago, it had all come back to him, with a vengeance.
In his usual horrific manner, he had raped and murdered a young Sioux girl. However this time, her tribe had avenged her death by cursing him with a soul.
Now, now, he feels everything. Every man he had killed, every woman, every child, it all weighs on his newly-returned soul, and nothing he can do will ever erase his sins. Now, he helps people. He does what he can to try to make up for his horrible deeds, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that that day is a long way off, even for an immortal.
He mourns the boy he had once been, whose soul had been tarnished and bloodied by the demon inside of him.
Long ago, when he had first been sired, Bo gave him a new name, Lindsey. He doesn’t know who the first Lindsey was, or what she had been to his sire, but that’s the name he goes by now. Everyone else has forgotten John Thomas Langston, the boy with the perpetual bright smile and the guileless soul.
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timeasmymeasure
FILL - May you be in heaven a few days before the devil knows you're dead
Date: 2012-07-04 09:21 am (UTC)The title is, of course, a quote from that movie, said by Joe Gill over J.T.’s grave.
May you be in heaven a few days before the devil knows you're dead
The vampire Bo Dorn had sired him.
He had turned him from a sweet, naïve boy into a ravenous monster. If he tries hard enough, J.T. can remember what he had been like in those days. He can remember laughing at Rock’s jokes, and how in awe he had been of Rafe Covington.
They’re gone, now.
Bo Dorn had turned him, and that night, he had risen. He had awoken hungry and feral, and they, Bo and Bruce Barkow, they had laughingly led him to the house where the three men who had been his friends were drinking, mourning him.
They had taken him to the door, and then, they had let the monster loose.
God, he can still remember the taste of his friends’ lifeblood, the sweetness on his lips, the warmth that began to flow through his dead veins as their hearts stilled.
Rafe had been the last to go.
“J.T.,” he’d said, “Son, this ain’t you, it ain’t you.”
“No,” the young vampire had replied, “No, it ain’t me. I’m better. I’m better than you,” he’d said and laughed. As he finished his former mentor off, he had whispered into the dying man’s ear, “I don’t need you.”
There isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t regret that, the things he’d said, his first kills.
They hadn’t been his only victims, no, far from it. They called him the Scourge of America, the Deathbringer, the Wolf. For a hundred years, he had wreaked havoc across the country, relishing in his kills, and caring nothing for the damage he had caused.
Until one day, a few decades ago, it had all come back to him, with a vengeance.
In his usual horrific manner, he had raped and murdered a young Sioux girl. However this time, her tribe had avenged her death by cursing him with a soul.
Now, now, he feels everything. Every man he had killed, every woman, every child, it all weighs on his newly-returned soul, and nothing he can do will ever erase his sins. Now, he helps people. He does what he can to try to make up for his horrible deeds, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that that day is a long way off, even for an immortal.
He mourns the boy he had once been, whose soul had been tarnished and bloodied by the demon inside of him.
Long ago, when he had first been sired, Bo gave him a new name, Lindsey. He doesn’t know who the first Lindsey was, or what she had been to his sire, but that’s the name he goes by now. Everyone else has forgotten John Thomas Langston, the boy with the perpetual bright smile and the guileless soul.
Everyone but him.