Chapter Text
It wasn't fair.
Noelle stood hunched over her bathroom sink, poking at her gums. Her fingernail scraped over perfect, shining white incisors. She took immaculate care of her teeth: two minutes of brushing every night, floss and rinse. No need for whitening strips, because she never let them get dirty.
It made the two long, sharp canines extending half an inch past her other teeth very hard to ignore. She looked up at her reflection, and let out a strangled cry when she saw nothing.
It wasn't fair. No one in Hometown was vaccinated for vampirism—that sort of thing just didn't happen here! It was like chickenpox, the type of thing your parents tut-tutted and in-my-day'd about, not something people actually got. Once or twice Noelle had heard about a small outbreak, but that was in big human cities, with movie theaters and nightlife. Sure, you could pick it up from an animal carrier, but that the chances of that were…
Oh, she was screwed. Why couldn't this have happened to anyone else? When they were kids, Kris used to talk about how they wanted to be a vampire. Susie already had the teeth for it! Even Berdly would probably make a better vampire than her.
She had to tell her mom. It was perfectly treatable, her mom would know what to do, she'd…
She couldn't tell her mom. She'd be locked up in her room until she turned eighteen! Worse, her mom would ask all sorts of prodding questions about how she'd gotten it—if she'd been cavorting with Kris, even though they hadn't spoken more than a sentence to each other since the start of the school year. Then she'd go on about how she should know to be more careful with her health, how it's her responsiblity to stay safe. Her father's condition was the only topic Noelle's mom was anything less than ruthlessly blunt about, but she wielded the implication with enough force to make up for it.
…Catti. Catti had to know something. Vampirism was a disease, sure, but it was definitely a spooky one, right? All those movies and myths and late-night creepypasta holes she'd been sucked into when she was younger had to have come from somewhere.
It was Saturday, which was a blessing and a curse—no way to approach her at her locker, but it also meant Noelle didn't have to sweat through a whole day of class hoping no one looked at her too closely while she answered questions. She could try and catch her tomorrow; QC's least enthusiastic server always ended up being put on the post-church lunch rush. At the very least, Noelle was sure Catti wouldn't tell anyone. That girl kept secrets locked up tighter than a drum; Noelle was pretty sure she enjoyed just having them more than actually telling anyone.
Noelle paled—though it didn't show in the mirror, her reflection still damningly blank—as the last step of her plan echoed in her mind.
Church.
Noelle didn't end up bursting into flames as her foot crossed the threshold of the church. She felt a little itchy as she walked down the aisle to the pew her family always took (wheelchair accessible, though her father was absent today), but that might have just been nerves.
She'd made it through dinner with her mom last night by forcing herself to take small bites of salad between thin, placating smiles, careful not to show her teeth. In this way it was the same as her average family dinner; what was different was how thirsty she found herself. She had drained her first glass of water before her mom had even finished unwrapping her carefully folded napkin, and made it most of the way through her first refill before remembering she needed to eat, too. Her mom gave her a calculating look as she went to refill it a second time, but that was normal, too. The water didn't help much, but it was something to do, and she took a bottle from the fridge up to her bedroom after asking to be excused for the night.
She ran through the steps of her plan in her head as the congregation filed in, talking and milling with no great urgency. Her mom sat next to her, ramrod straight, and checked her watch.
Step one: make it through church. Singing in the choir wasn't ideal, but there was no way to get out of it that wouldn't raise suspicion from her mom. It's not like anyone would be looking too closely at her teeth while she sang. She hoped.
Step two: track down Catti. She had already set this one in motion, "idly" mentioning to her mom on the walk over that she wanted to stop by QC's to ask Catti a question about their weekend homework. Catti was on the second tier of her mom's friend approval ranking: the declaration garnered a slight narrowing of the eyes, but no direct objection.
Step three: Catti fixes me. Admittedly, this one was shaky, but Noelle was trying to be positive here! Her throat itched terribly and her stomach felt like it was chewing itself apart, so something had to go right. Weird Latin chants, circles of candles and/or chalk, strange smelling (but probably perfectly legal) herbs… Catti had them all. Some combination of the above would put this all right, and no one—especially not her mom—would ever have to know about it.
She winced as one of her teeth (her fangs) scraped the inside of her lip for what must have been the tenth time that day.
"Don't fidget." Her mom hadn't even looked her way.
Finally, the last few churchgoers straggled in and took their seats. Toriel was the last, and the loudest—"Sorry, Alvin! You know how teenagers are. Someone just couldn't get out of bed this morning."
That meant Kris was here. Which didn't really mean anything in itself, but was the sort of vestigial awareness Noelle couldn't shake. Just a small town thing, she supposed. Even if her interactions with Kris these days began and ended with a "borrowed" pencil, some part of her brain still liked to helpfully point out, that's Kris.
Kris passed by her without so much as a glance, ushered by way of Toriel's paw wrapped around their shoulder towards one of the pews nearer to the front. Noelle's throat itched. She wondered if the red fruit punch was close enough to blood to trick her brain into feeling better.
The walk up to the stage felt like she was being shuffled to a witness stand, but if there was anything distinctly vampiric in her nervous shuffle, no one pointed it out. She stood through Alvin's opening remarks, hands clasped in front of her to keep herself from fidgeting.
She sang. It wasn't one of her best performances. Her throat felt dry and cracked, and her voice wavered on some of the higher notes, but Hometown's choir was rarely in perfect harmony. Twice her eyes darted to her mom, some part of her certain that the second she opened her mouth too wide, she would zero in on her fangs and send her right to the hospital, but she was as impassive as ever.
She only truly stumbled once, towards the end. After nervously scanning the crowd for the third time , some part of her had relaxed, and she actually allowed herself to enjoy the final verse. She liked singing; it was one of the few things she felt like she was truly good at. She closed her eyes as the choir called out their praise of the Angel, and for the first time since that morning, felt almost at peace.
When she opened them, Kris was staring straight at her. A single red eye burned through the gap in their bangs, though the flat line of their mouth remained unreadable as ever.
She choked on the last note of the hymn. Shyra shot her a concerned glance as the song ended, and Noelle tried to smile in return. She hoped the little shrug of her shoulders read as embarrassed, and not… whatever she was. Carefully, making certain her fangs weren't showing, she looked back at the pews. Back to Kris.
They were slouched back in the pew, head tilted down. She might have been able to convince herself they were asleep, if not for the fact that she could still feel the weight of that stare pressing down on her chest.
They didn't say anything as she passed them on her way back to her row. But when they turned their head, just a bit, to track her as she walked by, she nearly missed a step.
Her mom let her go without a fuss, only telling her to be home by three. Her frown made it clear that she hadn't missed Noelle's stumbling performance in choir today, but she mercifully left it at that. With nothing else holding her there, Noelle said goodbye to her mom, waved to Father Alvin and the other choir members, and made for what she hoped would be the site of her salvation: QC's Diner.
"Catt–Catti, wait, hold on!"
Catti turned, her usual Sunday death glare softening marginally as she took in the sight before her. Noelle ran a hand through her hair, trying to fix what was surely a rat's nest of flyaways . Her hair was fine; it was the overwhelming smell of food that was making her sick. Pancakes piled high with whipped cream and syrup, fresh cut berries, bacon sizzling on the grill top behind the counter: all the once-a-month treats Noelle would normally find herself craving, now making her stomach threaten a revolt.
"I need your help."
Catti sighed.
"Front door's unlocked. Room key is... under the griddle."
"Huh? No, it's not–how would I even get locked out on a weekend?"
Silence.
"Okay, well! It's not that, this time! Please, Catti, this is serious. It's something..." Noelle took a deep breath, which turned out to be a mistake. The renewed assault on her senses combined with a loud *pop* of bacon fat from nearly made her lose her lunch. "It's personal. Please." Her voice trembled on the last word.
Catti turned around, and Noelle felt her heart sink.
"QC. Taking my fifteen." She didn't raise her voice; rather it seemed the chatter of the brunch rush simply cleared out of the way of her raspy drawl.
"Huh? Catti, it's packed in here, can it wait?"
"No."
Without further ado, Catti started to make for the swinging saloon doors marked with a hand-painted 'Employees Only' sign.
The back-of-house, as it was, consisted of a linoleum countertop, one large chest freezer, two beaten-up looking fridges covered in stickers and magnets, and a coat rack with four hooks and at least seven coats, bags, and scarves layered and draped over it.
"Thank you so much, Catti, I really owe you one." Noelle was embarrassed to find tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She usually wasn't this emotional; she wasn't sure if it was a vampire thing or a skipping breakfast thing. "I swear if you can help me with this I'll do anything."
"Fine. Stop making eyes at Susie all day. She sucks."
"I cant–I mean, no she–I MEAN, um, how can I stop doing something I'm not even doing??" A nervous laugh spilled out of her mouth and fell flat on the sticky tile floor. "Anything... else?"
Catti rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Was gonna help you anyways. So. Spill."
Noelle took a deep breath. Winced at the unpleasant churning of her gut in response. This was the moment of truth, do or die. Or have to talk to her mom.
"So, um, I've got a little... well. You see. It's, ah." She fidgeted with the clasp of her watch. Her silver watch. Crap, was she going to…
Werewolves. That was werewolves.
"Noelle. If you made me take my break for no reason."
"I'm a vampire!"
Catti stared at her dubiously.
"I was—listen, sometimes I feed the squirrels in the graveyard, I know you're not supposed to but they're really cute and it's not like I'm gonna mess up a whole ecosystem with a few corn chips—and one of them may have nibbled on my finger a bit, and I swear it didn't break the skin but this morning I wake up and my teeth look like THIS." She hooked a finger into the side of her mouth and tugged her lip to the side.
"…yep. You're a vampire."
"Thanks Catti!" Noelle hissed. "I kind of figured that out when my freaking reflection disappeared!" She blinked. "I mean—I'm sorry, that was so rude, I don't know…"
"You're hungry," Catti said bluntly. If she was offended by Noelle snapping at her, she didn't show it. "You should probably go to a doctor."
"I can't! My mom would be impossible about it, and then she'd probably put out some public health announcement, and everyone would know it was about me, and she'd make me do monthly blood tests and set a curfew even though I got it from a freaking squirrel in broad daylight!"
The hot rush of frustration fueling her outburst sputtered and died. Noelle took a shuddering breath, held it for a count of four, then exhaled. "Please, Catti. Isn't there anything you can do?"
She hadn't needed to elaborate, really. Catti was the last person to judge her for not wanting to share something with her mom. When they were nine, Catti had started concealing lost baby teeth from her parents, preferring instead to use them to iterate on her tooth fairy binding ritual.
"…Maybe. I can try. Come to my house after school tomorrow. Need time to prepare."
"Oh my gosh, Catti, you're the best! Thank you so so so much, I swear, I owe you one." She reached out for a hug, which Catti accepted with grim resignation. Noelle let go when her fur started to puff up after a few seconds, but before her tail could start lashing.
"Noelle. One more thing."
"Huh?"
"Human blood."
"…Huh???"
"Vampirism… breeds in humans. Needs their blood. Monster won't work."
"Um, thanks, but I don't think I'll be drinking any blood?" Noelle laughed nervously. "You're going to help me, right?"
"Tomorrow. You need to feed before then. Or it's gonna suck."
No, no, no. This was exactly what she'd gone to Catti to try and avoid! Noelle didn't even like to swat flies, and even the idea of blood made her feel faint! When Kris had cut themself tearing up a soda can as a kid, the sight of that bright red rivulet dripping down their arm and off of their elbow nearly made her lose her lunch. And that overpowering tinny smell, like wet pennies you'd forgotten in the laundry, it was so…
Noelle swallowed.
"I—I can't. Besides, what am I gonna do, just go up and ask Kris if I can have some of their blood?"
They'd never seemed to mind when they were younger, though. In fact, whenever they'd ended up hurt, Noelle ended up being the one crying once the initial shock had worn off. The only time Kris ever tried to initiate a hug was when they had a nosebleed, chasing Noelle around with arms outstretched while she screamed bloody murder.
"…They'd help. We used to trade. Blood for sour gummy worms. Ritual components."
The blood or the gummy worms? Noelle wondered, then shook her head.
"No, no, what if—what if I turn them? Pretty soon the whole town would be vampires!" There it was, a perfect ironclad reason she couldn't bite Kris. Catti stared at her flatly.
"They're vaccinated. Can't turn. We tried."
Outside the saloon doors, families were enjoying their meals. She heard the jingle of the front door bell as a new customer walked in, then QC drawling out that she'd be right with them in "just a mo'". Noelle's throat spasmed.
"Noelle. Your mom's gonna find out anyway if you end up in a hospital because you passed out on the street. Just talk to Kris."
It was the longest sentence she'd heard from Catti in recent memory. And she really was parched.
"Okay. I'll do it."
Noelle winced as the sun hit her eyes. It was the kind of autumn day, cold and bright—bracing, her dad would say—that she normally adored. She always thought it felt like the world telling her to get out and enjoy the sunshine before it was time to hunker down for winter.
At least I'm not burning to a crisp, she thought as she blinked sunspots from her vision. Another thing she hadn't thought to ask Catti about. Still, the fresh air was a blessing after the olfactory assault of QC's, and if she narrowed her eyes against the light and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, she could almost forget how hungry she was.
She had to find Kris. She didn't know what they did on a typical Sunday; somehow she doubted it was still playing in the creek or racing wagons down the hill. The fact of the matter was, Kris didn't really seem to do anything, weekend or not. Noelle had never seen them out on a walk; their Stream activity showed a whopping zero point zero hours played in the last two weeks, and if they were hanging out with anyone in their class, it would have been Hometown's best-kept secret.
Noelle frowned. That was mean. Maybe Kris had a rich interior life that she was totally unaware of.
…they were probably at home.
Standing on the doorstep to the Dreemurr home, Noelle felt more like a ghost than a vampire. When was the last time she had been here? It must have been Asriel's going away party, two years ago. She'd let herself in through the back gate, then, not wanting to take off her shoes or track dirt through the house. Kris had been nowhere to be found.
Knock. All she had to do was knock. She could tell Toriel she was… here to ask a question about the homework? No, she'd never buy that, she had to know Kris didn't do their homework. Maybe she could say she was going to help Kris with theirs.
Why do all my excuses revolve around homework? Am I really that lame?
She could tell Toriel she was going to help Kris with their homework, go up to their room, and… and…
"Hey, Krismas! You know how you borrow those pencils from me all the time? Well, I just thought of a way you can pay me back!" That was insane! It was—
"Oh! Noelle, my dear! I did not know you were visiting. Would you like to come in?"
Noelle shrieked. Just a bit. It was more of a yelp, really. Toriel was standing in the now open door, her look of polite confusion quickly turning to concern.
"Aunt Tori—I mean, Miss Toriel! Miss Dreemurr!"
Toriel giggled, raising her hand up to her mouth in a token gesture that failed to cover her smile.
"Really, dear, just Toriel is fine. I have not seen you outside of school in some time! Do you have plans with Kris?"
"No! Er, I mean not really, but—I was just going to stop in? They mentioned having some trouble with, um, hemoglobin bonding, and I haven't done my homework yet, so I was thinking we could…"
"That's very kind of you. I'm afraid Kris is out right now… they said they were going out on a walk some time ago. You know them, always a little explorer!" Noelle breathed out a sigh of relief. They weren't here, so she couldn't talk to them. She tried, but she'd just have to make it to tomorrow, and then Catti would fix her. "Oh, would you be a dear and grab the paper for me? Goodness, I had almost forgotten why I came out here in the first place!"
"Of course!" Noelle crouched down, smoothing her skirt over her knees, and grabbed the rubber banded parcel. Toriel was still talking—something about how it could hardly be called the morning paper, given that the postman didn't reach her until well after noon, but that was okay, really—when everything went blurry. Furry paws wrapped around her shoulders as she stumbled, and it was only thanks to Toriel's strength that she stayed upright.
"Noelle! Goodness, are you alright?" Her vision cleared in seconds. She was fine—upright, fine, and look, she even still had the paper! "Have you eaten today? Do you need me to call your mother?"
"No! I mean, yes I've eaten, no to mom." She handed over the newspaper, only realizing that she had crumpled it in her grip as Toriel gingerly accepted it, one steadying hand still on her shoulder. "Really, you don't need to bother her. Maybe I could come in for a glass of water?"
This, it seemed, was an acceptable alternative. Toriel lead her in, still guiding her as if she was a lost lamb, and sat her down on the couch before leaving to get her water.
The Dreemurr home, on first glance, was exactly the same as Noelle remembered. The couch was still the comfiest thing she'd ever sat on, big pillowy cushions broken in by years of movie nights. It still smelled the same, even; butterscotch and cinnamon over a specific, slightly earthy house-smell that Noelle had no word for other than "the Dreemurrs'."
It was only when she started really looking around that she noticed the differences. The thin layer of dust on the TV, which had never gone unused for more than a day or two (once a whole week, but only on the rare occasion that both Kris and Asriel had been grounded). A rectangular, less-yellowed spot on the wall where a framed photo used to hang.
"Would you like to wait for Kris to come back? I am certain they will not be too long. I would give them a call, but they never seem to answer their phone these days…" Toriel handed her the glass of water, which she took a few polite sips from. It didn't really help.
"No, that's okay, I…" Noelle trailed off. "Where's the rubber band ball?"
The ever-growing rubber band ball had been an endless source of fascination for Kris and Noelle, some eleven years ago. Both of them would proudly present rubber bands, won from Sunday papers or the baggied candy scooped from scuffed plastic bins at the grocer's, and watch with bated breath as it was carefully added to the ball. Kris was doggedly determined to bounce it down the stairs, in spite (or active defiance) of their parents' protest and the fact that it admittedly was not very bouncy. She suspected that half their enthusiasm was due to Noelle's own determination to stop them—and the fact that she would shriek whenever the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of the ball tumbling down the stairs would result in one of the rubber bands snapping and flying in a random direction.
"Probably collecting dust in that flower shop." Toriel's warm expression soured momentarily. "I'm surprised you remember that old thing!"
Noelle remembered Toriel, too, coming over to contribute a rubber band, smiling fondly while Asgore carefully layered on the haul from that week's grocery run. She said nothing, and looked away. There was a spot on the carpet, right in front of the TV, where it had worn a bit thin.
"Are you sure you do not want to stay? I could have those muffins ready in a jiffy!"
"No, that's okay. I'm actually feeling a lot better!" Noelle lied. "I should probably get home, my mom will worry if I'm out too long." She finished her water, pushed herself to her feet, and managed not to stumble on her way to the door.
"If you say so! I will let Kris know you were here. Maybe they will finally use that phone of theirs to call you!"
That would be the day. Noelle's phone was used for three things: calls from her mom and dad, memes sent by Berdly (he didn't seem to mind that she'd stopped responding with anything other than a laughing emoji) and a strict, self-imposed thirty minutes a day of an idle game about raising cats. She technically had Kris's number, and presumably they still had hers, but the thought of them actually calling felt about as likely as Undyne retiring.
The sun felt like a spotlight trained straight on her. She had to squint all the way home, sweating underneath her fur despite the chill. She stopped at the convenience store, mumbled a greeting to the new owner, and stood in front of the rotating metal display rack of jerky for a solid three minutes. Meat had blood in it once, right? Maybe that would be close enough. She could eat it, technically—Dess had a three month rebellious streak where she insisted she wasn't going to be vegetarian anymore—but then she thought about trying to chew a strip of dried, stringy flesh into something swallowable and nearly gagged.
She left without buying anything. If the way home wasn't muscle memory at this point, she wasn't sure she would have been able to find her way there. She let herself in through the gate—the wrought iron didn't burn her hand, that was… something other than vampires—and dragged herself up to her room before collapsing on her bed.
She'd tried. She'd gone to Kris's house, ready to talk, and they just hadn't been there. Catti couldn't get mad at her for that, right? It's not like she could just sneak in through their window and ask if she could drink their blood. And by tomorrow it wouldn't matter, she'd be fixed and the only time she'd have to think about blood was when they inevitably added a terrible sixth entry to her favorite horror series.
It would be fine. Noelle had skipped meals before; school days where she'd only realized after the gate had clicked behind her that her lunchbag was still on the counter, nights where her mom worked late and she just couldn't find the energy to go downstairs to eat. She knew it wasn't good for her, but one more wouldn't kill her.
Things got kind of fuzzy after that. She did her homework. She went down for dinner. Her mom didn't have her shipped off to the hospital, so she must have managed to bluff her way through it somehow. She recalled the sound of the tap running on high while she vomited roast potatoes and cauliflower into the toilet. She showered after that, and the ultra-wide stream of hot water running over her helped a bit.
There were no texts or missed calls, from Kris or anyone else. She dressed in her fuzziest pajamas and second most comfortable t-shirt.
Noelle always waited at least an hour after showering before going to bed. Her hair looked best when she let it air dry, and she didn't want to soak her pillow.
She made it twenty minutes before passing out at her desk.