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The sunlight is what wakes him. Trickling in through an unseen window, pleasantly warm on his face- not burning, not prickling his skin, not hurting his eyes.
Owen blinks blearily into the light, until the shape of the small, barred window begins to make more sense. His head feels heavy and filled with fog, and the lumberjack isn't quite sure where he is. A cot beneath him, a thin blanket atop his still-clothed form, cobblestone walls and- and bars, along one wall. Silver, from the shine of it. Probably. He can't... he can't quite tell, actually. It doesn't burn at the edges of his senses, flood his mouth with the acrid, metallic taste- so maybe not. Maybe they're just... regular, iron jail cell bars.
A cell. That thought gets his sluggish mind moving a little quicker, and Owen pulls himself upright. Or, well, tries to. The movement sets his limbs aflame, an old bone-deep ache he hadn't felt in years. In centuries. He grits his teeth, taking the movement slower, leaning against the stone wall for support. His hair sticks to his forehead in that damp, sweat-soaked way that speaks to a night of fever.
Why is he in a cell? Had he been caught? Why hadn't they just- staked him and been done with it, if so?
"Legs! He's awake!" A shout from across the room- past the bars- startles Owen out of his struggling thoughts. He whips his head around, wincing at the spike of pain that courses through his temples. Of course it's Avid. He would recognize that shrill, grating voice anywhere.
The vampire hunter sits at a small table, half-hidden in the dark, with an array of tools laid out on it. Sharpened wooden stakes, a string of garlic (less pungent smelling than the lumberjack would expect, but then, Avid always reeks of the stuff), alchemy supplies. Something bubbles above a controlled flame, dark liquid in a vial.
Avid doesn't look at him, doesn't even give him a sideways glance, but Owen can see he's nervous. A tug at his collar, picking at his bitten-down nails. Owen opens his mouth to call out- to taunt the pathetic man, probably, but is stopped short by a door he hadn't noticed swinging open.
The Doctor sweeps in, carrying a bag by his side. Legundo barely acknowledges Avid, pushing past him to stand just outside the bars to the cell, his bright green eyes trained on Owen's brown.
"Owen," Legs greets with a nod, "How are you feeling? What do you remember?"
"I-" The question makes Owen pause, the indignant retort he had prepared for the doctor swallowed back down. What did he remember?
He was separated from the others, having gone off to satiate his hunger, to find some warm-blooded thing to sink his fangs into. Meeting Apo in the dark of the woods, a light conversation with the other vampire. Apo didn't want this gift, but she was stuck with it nonetheless, despite her insistence on staying hidden and living with the humans. It might prove useful, to have some of their own hidden in Oakhurst, so Owen would not argue.
It was a trap. A circle of fire, Apo's fangless grin, silver chains wrapped around his arms, burning through the layers of fabric.
Owen can feel his heartbeat speeding up- his heartbeat, that should- it shouldn't- as the memories flood back. Being dragged back to Oakhurst, thrown into the cell, held down, something that burned like the fires of hell forced down his throat. That same flame engulfing his body, crying out, begging-
"What-" Owen's voice feels ragged. He remembers screaming long into the early hours of the morning, now. "What did you do to me." He hisses, holding his arms tightly to himself.
The Doctor's face is hard to read, mouth pressed into a thin line, brows creased in something like pity. The sight of it makes Owen want to scream. "You were sick, Owen," Legs begins, a mockery of their conversation that night behind the ruined castle. "Apo- Apo was very helpful, letting Avid and I experiment in order to find a cure. She was brave, despite her illness. And it worked- It worked, Owen." He sounds proud, almost excited. A genuine smile stretches across the human’s face. "I told you, I wouldn't stop trying to find a way to help you."
Owen feels sick. His heart slams against his chest, the sensation so foreign it hurts, and he can feel the air burning in his lungs, unable to get enough. He hadn't needed to breathe in so long. "No..." His tongue runs along his teeth, finding them short and dull and human. He can't hear Avid's perpetually-rabbit-quick heartbeat, he can't taste the silver tainting the air, the shadows of the room are dark and unwelcoming. He's hungry, but not in the all-consuming way that bloodthirst takes over. "No, no nonono-"
He scrambles back, hitting the cobblestones behind him. Owen can barely hear Legundo's attempts to calm him down over the blood rushing in his ears, the panic racing through his mind. He- he can't. He can't be human again. There is no cure, vampirism doesn't work like that-
"Avid, put it down." Legs' voice breaks through Owen's scrambled thoughts. He hadn't noticed Avid approaching the cell, loaded crossbow held warily in one hand.
"You haven't tested him yet to make sure it worked- what if- what if it didn't?" The vampire hunter stutters, glaring at Owen. The vamp- the lumberjack hisses back weakly, the noise no more than air through teeth.
Legundo fixes Avid, and then Owen, with a solemn stare. "It worked." He assures, voice grave, as he moves to pull something out of his bag.
It's a freshly baked loaf of bread, wrapped and still warm. The smell is tantalizing as he breaks off a piece, opening the cell door to offer it to Owen. "I'm sure you're hungry- Apo certainly was. We can get you something more sustaining once you've calmed down."
The bread smells heavenly, and the thought turns Owen's stomach- he holds a trembling hand to his mouth, covering his traitorous nose, and shakes his head. Legs sighs, mouth pinched tight, and sets it down beside Owen instead, rewrapped.
"Legs, you shouldn't be in there with him," Avid cautions, pointing the crossbow towards Owen again. "He's still- He's still a murderer."
A murderer.
"He was sick, Avid."
If he was- if they truly found a way to revive him, to tear away the gift Louis had given to Owen-
"The virus messes with the mind, clouds judgement. He should not be blamed for what he was not in control of."
It was all for nothing. None of it mattered. Louis was taken from him for nothing.
"You should have killed me." Owen whispers. The last fragment of the only person that ever mattered to him was gone.
The Doctor's expression shutters, confusion and worry splashed across his face. "I- What did you say?"
"You should have KILLED ME." Owen growls, lunging forward, grief and rage strangled in his chest. He doesn't quite tackle the larger man like intended, collapsing on the hard stone floor in front of Legundo instead. Curse this wretched, weak, pathetic human body.
A sob threatens to crawl its way up his throat, and Owen uses everything in him to push it back down. He would not cry in front of these two. He refuses.
Legs kneels down, reaches out a tentative hand toward Owen, and the lumberjack pulls away with a snarl. "Don't. Touch. Me."
"Owen, I need you to take a deep breath, you're alright now-"
"Get out. Get- Get away from me. I'm sick, Doctor, didn't you hear? Don't you see?" Owen hisses, "I will- I will kill you, strangle you with my bare hands if I have to." He doesn't know if he could, physically, anymore, but the threat still hangs heavy in the air.
Legs stands back up, slowly, hands out like one might to placate a wild animal. Owen certainly feels like one. "We'll work through this, Owen." The doctor's steady, infuriatingly calm voice promises. "You don't have to be alone anymore. We want to help you."
Avid pulls the cell door closed behind Legundo, locking it tightly with a troubled, angry expression marring his face. "Is this what you wanted, Avid?" Owen calls, blunt fingernails (where were his claws- gone, gone gone) digging into his own arms. "The almighty, terrifying vampire, wretched and human as you are, helpless before you?" The words taste like ash on his tongue. "What are you waiting for? I'm a murderer, like you said. Me being- being human doesn't stop that. Don't you want to protect the people of Oakhurst?"
Avid stares at Owen for a long moment, piercing violet gaze studying him, leaving Owen feeling oddly exposed. There are heavy bags bruising the hunter's eyes, and his grip on the crossbow tightens, the wood creaking beneath his fingers.
"Avid." Legundo says, voice quiet but commanding. "Leave him for now. Our presence is not helping. Give him time."
Some internal battle is lost within Avid, and he sighs, running a hand through his dusty hair. Legs puts a hand on the smaller man's shoulder, leading him out of the room. Though, not before glancing back at Owen one last time, concern etched deep on his face.
Owen glowers back at him, anger burning red-hot in his veins.
The heavy door shuts, locks, and Owen is left alone.
The lumberjack falls limp against the cold stone wall. The warmth of the sun isn't comforting, anymore- he wishes it would burn.
He closes his eyes, body humming with discomfort and old aches he never thought he would have to feel again. He's hyper aware of his heart beating, his lungs filling with air, the bread mouth-wateringly close and his stomach- empty of real food for hundreds of years- growling. He ignores it.
Owen will burn Oakhurst to the ground again, taking all these idiotic, awful humans with it, if it's the last thing he does.
He hopes it is.