What We Found In The Dark: A Mystic Falls Novella (TVD-Verse)

What He Lost

Being a person is a fucking nightmare.
That was his first thought. Anyone else who happened to spontaneously reanimate from the dead would be utterly relieved to be back in the gracious land of the living, oh but Dawson.
Grateful (and stubborn) as he is for a breath of new life, he wish he had at least reanimated somewhere appropriate, not buried 7 ft under in an unmarked grave. The dirt was unbearable, itchy, crawling, he was most definitely sure there was a worm or two in his ears, nose, belly button even.

"Fuck My Life."

Were his first muffled words through the goo and grime of once being an actual corpse.
It had been a long time since Dawson had to use his limbs, his brain, his words! Somehow years of rotting in the literal earth hadn't brought the peace Death had seemingly promised.

There was dirt in his lungs, blinding him in his eyes, under his finger nails, all he could do was continue kicking and reaching to the surface, if there ever was one.
Panic started to set in, and it slid down his head to his toes and he felt his body violently heave back and forth, legs extending every which way desperate for a breach into the surface.
His lungs on fire, dirt scraping down his trachea, he clawed through a hoard of what felt like a trees roots before he realized he couldn't breathe. hyperventilating was an alien feeling that Dawson hadn't experienced in ages. His lungs felt like they were made out of sandpaper.

Every fragile, weak, and vulnerable aspect of humanity came flooding back, overpowering him.
He hadn't known he was screaming until a warm embrace of a hand punched through the dirt and darkness and wrapped around his wrist, cutting through the course terrain with ease, meaning Dawson was only mere feet away from the surface.

His panic eased immediately, but then came the guilt, shame, embarrassment. A wave of emotion he had no idea on how to control. It felt as if someone had restarted his brain, every emotion was a world of its own and they were colliding with one another inside of him.
The expense of the emotions began to grow and grow, threatening to immolate Dawson, heat curling up in his fists then his wrists, down his legs, pulsing in his core. An unquenchable desire and thirst for release and flame. The feeling was it's peak, the terrain above began to smoke and bubble, but it ceased as the wrist pulling Dawson to the surface latched on tighter, the cool arm and vice grip released a sense of relief that decimated the heat, the intensity, there was absolute incineration and then there was... nothing. No more Void. there was peace.. but it was fleeting.

By the time he had reached the surface Dawson was sobbing, the arms that pulled him up and the body connected to them were still shrouded in darkness because of the dirt that caked Dawson's angular face, his eyes burning with dust, debris, and the remnants of his own death. 

The atmosphere on the surface was much cooler, and it was an unfamiliar sensation that made Dawson shutter. He was shaking so hard, he hadn't realized but it was not soon before the strong embrace that held him against his chest lulled him and hushed away his cries away in the darkness, but Dawson still refused to open his eyes, clinging to the Man that held him in his arms, his muscles underneath hard and reaffirming.
safety, peace, he thought.

He smiled lightly before it fell to utter disaster as his tears began to flow with the memories of who he once was began to be stripped violently from his cranium, a deafening incantation ringing from every bend in his head, a females deathly voice sickening and vile, her words like an acid in his ears, and all he could do was cry out in pain, in fear, in freedom.
Sweet life, relief and a curse all at the same time.

The arms embracing him warm, built, A man with soft, firm and alabaster skin pulled up first by his wrists then reached a muscled arm across Dawson's back, He half expected the strangers hand to land on a boney spine but it reached and wrapped around his middle easily, he had a body, a body with...  mass, muscle, skin, and... clothes? Oh god, they probably looked terrible, he thought. Does denim even decompose? Oh god, did he smell? He didn't want to know.

Dawson's anxious confusion was more than sublime, he was skeletal remains just hours before, he wondered why the weight of time held so strong, had it been like this before? In another life he thought if his former self was also a stranger to himself, and if they both shared that secretly.
It was one thing being lost, but being lost in yourself, now that's the loneliness that's deadlier than time.
He thought of what maybe his old life could've been, all flashing before his eyes in kaleidoscopic vision, before blurring then dissolving and then disappearing all together.

This is all he knew before he started focusing on the man in front of him, pulling him upward. They struggled in the pitch black dark of what looked like a desolate tunnel, Dawson's eyes alit with a keen sense, his surroundings clear even amidst the darkness.
The stranger using his legs to kick off from the ground, yanking him upwards until the dirt was no longer up to Dawson's neck, chest, and finally knees, where he then knelt and swayed left into the strangers arms.
Dawson let out an exasperated cry, exhaustion like no other was setting in, and on top of the initial shock, he really wasn't going to be able to stand for much longer, but he led the stranger guide him, not caring where his final destination took him.

In his haze he thought of the face he caught in the darkness, the blonde gentleman in the tight rent-a-cop uniform, what was a cop (who honestly, let's face it, could be a stripper if he so wanted to) doing in some ancient tunnel anyway? But he let the gentlemen guide him away regardless, the mans hand pressed firmly on Dawson's back but a few moments into their trek the exhaustion caught up and he collapsed, the last thing he saw was the name tag of the man holding now him in his arms (again)
And It read:

Sheriff Matthew Donovan.

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