Crossed
an excerpt

"Tybalt...Tybalt...wake up, please..."

He had collapsed the moment we made it into the apartment, and he just wouldn't wake up. I'd had only hesitated long enough to lock the door tightly behind me before kneeling down to help him, but I couldn't think of anything I could do aside from vainly trying to stir him to wakefulness.

Talk about a way to end the day. Things had been going amazingly well up to the point in which we were attacked, in retrospect. I still didn't really know the story of the guys that jumped us, but I had the suspicion that they worked for that guy people kept mentioning named 'Demitrius'.

"Tybalt? Are you okay? Hey, you're not supposed to sleep, you told me that. So get up, already..."

As stupid as it probably was to do, I began trying to move him towards the couch. If he was going to be unconscious, it would be better for him to not be lying on his face, right? The major flaw in the plan was that he was considerably heavier than myself, and moving him was easier said than done.

I had really only managed to get him on his back by the time he began to twitch back into wakefulness.

"Fuck, Teri," was the first thing he mumbled, looking at me through half-closed eyes. He laughed deliriously. "Why couldn't you do that when we were playing games? We could have high scored..."

"I just shot someone, Tybalt," I said, feeling a bit like crying. Somehow I managed to contain herself. "It isn't funny."

"Neh..." he said, shaking his head slightly. "S'ok. He'll just be back later. S'no big deal."

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked, noticing the slur in his voice. His skin still felt excessively clammy and cold to the touch, but at least he was talking. "What did he do to you?"

"The bastard is an aura leech...can drain people through direct contact." He coughed, trying to clear his throat. "It doesn't work very well on mortals, but on us...ugh." He winced, his head lolling off to the side. "It's much worse."

"How much did he take? How bad is this?" I asked urgently. Going to the doctor wouldn't help, so that definitely wasn't an option. How exactly did one treat someone who had their soul drained?

"I'm okay," he said unconvincingly, cracking an odd little grin. "Just really sleepy."

"Do you just have to wait it out?" He nodded very slowly in response. "How long does it take to recover from something like this?"

"Thanks for shooting that guy. It was really helpful."

"Is there something I can do to help the process right now? Are you sure you can't eat anything?"

"Also that finger thing. That was pretty cool."

It occurred to me that he was no longer listening.

"Tybalt. Listen to me for a second. Can you at least help me get you onto the couch? You can't be on the floor all night."

"I could."

"But you shouldn't."

"Fine," he said, weakly batting a hand at me. He began trying to push himself off the floor, and with my help we managed to make it over to the couch. Once we were there, he dropped down almost as hard as he had the first time. He obviously had very little strength left- anything he did was a severe strain.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?" I asked one last time, feeling guilty about his condition. It hadn't been my fault in the slightest, yet somehow I felt like I was the one responsible.

"Yeah...yes...I just have to wait..."

"So your- um...aura. It will recover on its own?"

"Ideally."

"Okay...then I am going to go to sleep, because I feel a bit like passing out, too. I'll leave the door open. Call me if something urgent happens."

"Will d..ahh...do..." he mumbled, before passing out again. I sighed, running my hand through my hair. I really wanted to take a shower, but it felt like if I tried I would just fall asleep on my feet and slip in the tub. Given that it was me we were dealing with, that was actually almost guaranteed to happen.

Going to bed would have to suffice. Maybe I would even be able to sleep, if I could get the taste of flesh out of my mouth and the sight of the gunshot wound out of my mind.