sweetprince (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sweetprince) wrote2007-03-04 03:40 pm
sweetprince) wrote2007-03-04 03:40 pm
Here I Go Again...
Title: And Through The Darkness, Light
Disclaimer: NO. NO. NO. I do not own Underworld, Supernatural, or Werewolf: the Apocalypse, anybody who tells you otherwise is a fool and a liar.
Summary: Vampires and werewolves have waged a nocturnal war against each other for centuries. But all bets are off when a vampire warrior named Dean, who's famous for his strength and werewolf-hunting prowess, becomes smitten with Sam, who the werewolves place a vital importance on. Supernatural/Underworld Crossover
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Chapters: 2/3
Genre: AU, SPN/Underworld Xover
Rating: NC-17
Acknowledgements: Thank you![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
albydarned for working on this even when you were amazingly busy. Also, thanks to whimsicalwonder for hand holding through all the naughty parts even though they make you uncomfortable.
Chapter 1
Sam wasn’t sure how he’d found the fortitude to pull them both out of the Thames river, which was completely foul. The little cave he tugged them into was hardly any better, but it was shelter from the rain and he highly doubted the werewolves would come for them in there.
He couldn’t believe all that had happened to him in the span of six hours. Life was too short for this shit, and not to mention that he would have to worry about being some kind of mutant that could withstand werewolf bites. He certainly hadn’t ever managed to just heal himself after getting hurt before being bitten by that guy, that was for sure. Dean was still unconscious, his face almost more beautiful with the stillness sleep brought.
Sam couldn’t think much beyond the fact that he was completely freezing with only sodden pajamas protecting him from the elements and Dean’s skin was cool to the touch, like smooth marble beneath Sam’s palms as he pulled Dean’s coat off to inspect the shoulder wound. He realized he shouldn’t even be amazed anymore that the wound was closing up before his eyes.
A warm feeling suffused his body when Dean made a sexy little sound in the back of his throat and shifted in his sleep. He wasn’t exactly sure why it made him feel better about being attracted to Dean now that he knew he was a vampire. By all accounts that should make him feel worse, because Dean really, really didn’t give a fuck about humans dying and it was clearly obvious. Although for some reason he didn’t quite understand, Dean seemed to give a fuck about him. Dean shifted and his eyes finally opened, lashes fluttering.
“Hello,” he said softly, his eyes heavy-lidded.
Sam swallowed. “Hi.”
“You’re attracted to me,” Dean replied, his voice floating over Sam like a silky caress. Sam had never really been that attracted to accents, but Dean’s cool British one seemed to hit him where he least expected it.
Sam coughed at Dean’s frankness and looked away, finally answering him, “Yes.”
Dean reached up with delicate fingers and trailed them over Sam’s cheek bone. “And I you.” He rolled Sam underneath him, pinning the taller man with his body weight. “Tell me what you’ve heard about vampires.”
Sam swallowed, his pupils dilating at the press of Dean’s body upon his. “That you suck the blood of virgins.”
“Virgins?” Dean chuckled. “How boring!” He bent down and pressed his cool lips to Sam’s exposed throat, nipping at it gently with un-extended teeth. “And just so that you don’t worry, I haven’t fed off of anyone since the advent of blood banks.”
“Tell this to me when you don’t have your mouth at my jugular,” Sam whispered back.
Dean laughed, licking down his collarbone. “Ah, I don’t see you struggling.”
“I thought that we’d established that I’m insane and this is all a figment of my imagination,” Sam replied, inhaling deeply as Dean’s mouth reached one distended nipple.
Dean laved it with his tongue, enjoying the way Sam’s hips rose against him. Sam’s skin tasted like water and cinnamon and felt like velvet against his tongue. “I believe I’m very real, Sam.” He ran his hand down Sam’s body, finally stopping at Sam’s burgeoning erection.
Sam shuddered, warmth pouring back into his cold and tired muscles. They were in a little rocky outcropping, at night, while it rained dismally outside, but the only thing on Sam’s mind was Dean’s mouth and fingers sliding against his skin.
“Tell me more,” Dean said, pulling back to look at Sam below him. Sam had beautiful golden skin spread over hard muscle. They shouldn’t be doing this—wasting time, they should be searching for answers, fighting, anything but this slow languorous mapping of Sam’s body.
“Tell you…what?” Sam breathed, momentarily at a loss as the tip of Dean’s tongue traced designs around the areola. “Oh—I’ve heard that vampires are highly sexual creatures.”
Dean chuckled against his skin, nipping him right over his heart. “So it would seem.”
“Is it anything like Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”
Dean rolled his eyes as his blunt fingers snuck into Sam’s pants. “That movie makes me cringe.”
“I—can I—can I kiss you?” Sam asked, his breath catching in his throat as Dean’s fingers drifted over his painfully-hard cock.
Dean was momentarily taken aback; Sam could see it in his guarded expression. What he couldn’t possibly know was that Dean hadn’t kissed anyone since being turned several centuries ago. He couldn’t know that it hadn’t seemed right to Dean: vampires do not love, and kissing, kissing was an act of love.
Sam tugged Dean upwards before he could even protest, fingers stroking up his face and then pulling him in close. Dean settled his weight once more over Sam, comfortable and warmer somehow than he was earlier, gasping against Sam’s mouth as their cocks brushed. Sam smiled at him, his eyes dancing, and he took back control of the moment. He brushed his lips against Dean’s and the one gentle—almost aimless—touch sent a spike of hot pleasure coursing through Dean.
He couldn’t know that Dean wanted to say No, no it’s too much, and pull away. Sam wasn’t giving him the chance. He wanted to claim those sinful lips, to know what they tasted like, if his fantasies had even come close.
Dean kissed him back, and Sam didn’t know that he’d just crumbled a wall inside the vampire. He didn’t realize that Dean was reveling in the fact that the kiss didn’t feel like loss, or like yearning for forgotten sunrises and people who have long lain cold in their graves.
All he knew was that Dean was kissing him back, all his art and finesse lost in the sudden rush of hunger and desire. As Dean’s tongue curled against his, he raised his knee between the vampire’s thighs, grinding it against Dean’s erection. Dean moaned into his mouth, nipping viciously at his mouth. The burst of pain should have turned him off; it should have made him want to end it right the fuck now. But instead it was just pushing him further. He wanted to wrap himself around Dean and never let go, and he hadn’t felt that way since Jessica, hell he hadn’t felt that way with Jessica.
Dean’s tongue slid against his and he suddenly seemed to have forgotten how he’d ever lived without this. Kissing and rubbing against each other in a shitty freezing cave? It didn’t get any better than that. He was gasping and writhing against Dean, their hips working together, and he should have been embarrassed at his behavior, but he wasn’t. Dean sucked on his lower lip and flicked his nipple repeatedly and he wasn’t even thinking anymore about the bitter cold air or all the things that were so very wrong with his day. He single-mindedly thought about the fact that he was very likely going to come in his pants.
But Dean hadn’t forgotten and the vampire pulled himself away.
“Storm lords, you’re shuddering!” Dean said, smoothing a cool palm down Sam’s arm.
Sam blushed. “I don’t think that’s from the cold.”
Dean’s expression shifted through a variety of emotions too fast for Sam to decode. “I don’t do this…”
Sam didn’t either, but he didn’t say that. He grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Not so licentious as they say then?”
Dean laughed, but it was brittle and hollow. “Once upon a time, when I was just turned—but then I earned the honor of Death Dealer and I made killing lycans my life.”
Sam’s didn’t know what to think about that. He saw the need for revenge coursing through Dean as he spoke; it was the same as Sam’s need for vindication in the wake of Jessica’s death.
Sam shook his head to clear it and Dean spoke again, “We have about an hour till sunrise,” he said, his eyes on the mouth of the cave. “We need to get back to the coven. I need more answers.”
Sam nodded; the sweet languorous mood was lost. He wondered why he hoped it would return. He hadn’t wanted anything of that sort for a very long time.
*
John plunked down the blood-filled vial in front of Jim, his expression triumphant.
“Winchester’s blood, I take it?” Jim asked, picking up the vial and inspecting it.
John smiled. “Never send a Fury to do a Get’s work!” the fenrir smiled. Meg glared at John’s head.
“John, you won’t get anything accomplished by baiting her,” Jim admonished, stepping back behind his curtain.
“How is it that you of all people emerged to lead us? A misogynistic bastard like yourself?” Meg snarled at her liege.
John only smiled back, his canines bared. “Would you do it?”
Meg subsided. When the Silver Fangs had been deposed by the damn vampires and the Garou nation had plunged into chaos only John had risen to attempt to knit the edges back together again. For a time, he’d succeeded, but John had been unable to knit his own tribe the Get of Fenris with that of Meg’s, the Black Furies. The hatred between them had run too deep. The Red Talons had left their tenuous little alliance after that, taking with them the Wendigo, who wouldn’t deal with anyone else. The loss of the Wendigo had been more crippling than anything else.
But then John had played his part better than a Shadow Lord, when an opportunity with that craven little blonde vampire had presented itself, John had seized upon it. Get of Fenris or no, Meg would follow him to the ends of the earth. She had long ago realized that he was the only way to realize the Prophecy.
“I didn’t come here to argue, John,” she said finally, sighing. “Two striders arrived today with word from the Talons, I think it’s time.”
John looked off into the distance. “If Winchester isn’t the one, it will crush us, Meg. The Furies will not fight for me, nor the Red Talons, and the best we can hope for is a quick death at the hands of the Vampires.”
“But Winchester is the one…” Jim interrupted from behind him. John turned around, wonder on his face. He had hardly dared to hope anymore. Jim continued, “The DNA matches.”
John was silent for a moment longer before finally gathering his wits. “I must tell the Striders then and send word to the other tribes.”
John swept out of the room, leaving Jim and Meg behind. “I hope Winchester is up to the challenge,” Jim finally whispered.
Meg sighed. “It will be the end of us, if he is not.”
*
Sam slept on his bed, the black down comforter rucked up about his waist, his breathing even. Dean felt like he could just sit there and watch him for awhile, and the thought scared him. He didn’t know Sam. What he did know was that he was a freaky human who was resistant to werewolf bites, a freaky human who would one day die. But … but Dean had the power to turn him as all vampires did.
But would he dare? Of course not. This wasn’t life, oh yes, there were those who thought it was, but Winchester wouldn’t be one of them. He had a life, a lonely life maybe, but a life nevertheless. He couldn’t ever have that again if he was a vampire.
Dean sighed and got to his feet. He needed answers and he needed them now. He’d start with Ash, the only one he trusted in the whole giant 14th century pile of stones. He burst into the armory, making his way back to Ash’s lair. Ash would already be up; he didn’t like wasting time on sleep when he could be doing something more productive.
Just as he had expected, Ash was sitting at his desk, tinkering with some sensitive technology, barely sparing Dean a glance when he thundered in.
“What can I do you for?” Ash asked after long moments of Dean standing in silence watching the younger vampire.
Dean warred with himself. He liked Ash, Ash hadn’t cared in the least about coven rules or hierarchies, he’d just walked right up to him on the firing range and told Dean he could make his gun better. But how much of the vampire could he trust and was he willing to drag him into it if he did? But then he thought of Sam lying back in his bed and for reasons unknown his resolve hardened.
“How much do you know of John’s death?”
“The same that everyone knows, Battle of Bryden’s Hill, Jo caught John high tailing it, slashed his head off, and took his tattooed flesh back as proof.
“But they never saw an actual body?”
Ash nodded. “Yup, body suspiciously absent.”
Dean closed his eyes and breathed deep, hoping Ash wouldn’t attempt to drag him straight to Jo for this. “What if I told you that I saw John today?”
Ash sat up straight in his chair. “John, the John? John, the lycan’s only hope, that John?”
Dean threw up his hands. “Yes, that one! What other John would I be talking about?”
“Well, I don’t know, I see John from Squad II everyday, could’ve been that one!”
“Ash!” Dean cried.
The other vampire sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Listen Dean, this goes much deeper than I thought.”
Dean sat upright in his chair, what was Ash implying? “What does?”
“It’s not safe here,” Ash replied simply. “If you want information—”
“Yes?” Dean burst out. Ash dug around in his desk for a few seconds, tossing out papers and pens aimlessly. Dean winced at the mess. Finally Ash pulled something out that he didn’t immediately toss over his shoulder: a little white card with a name printed on it in bold face.
“Talk to her,” Ash said, handing over the card. “She’s the only one with any answers.”
“Missouri Mosely?” Dean asked, incredulously, turning the card over in his hand. A woman by the name of an American state was supposed to yield the answers? Dean had a very bad feeling about that.
Ash smiled. “That’d be the one.”
He narrowed his eyes at Ash’s expression. “I hope you’re right about this, Ash.” Dean sighed.
Ash shook his head. “I wish I wasn’t.”
Dean left at that cryptic statement, still puzzling over it as he made his way back to his room. He had to get Sam out of here, if the coven found he’d brought a human back to the mansion they’d be on him in an instant, especially one so gorgeous and intriguing as Sam.
He walked back into his quarters, horrified to see Sarah, through the open door to his bedroom, standing over Sam, reaching out to touch him.
“Don’t!” he said harshly, his hand going to his hip for his 9mm, and she started pulling her hand back as if burned. He checked over Sam’s body under lowered lashes, internally thankful that there didn’t appear to be a mark on him.
Her eyes were round and her mouth was open as she backed away from the two. “You’ve brought a human back to the Coven!”
“Yes,” he said to her as he began gathering stuff up for their trip to talk with Missouri. Sam’s needed some better clothes than the sodden pajamas that Dean had surreptitiously tossed into the trash. Maybe Sarah knew where to get some in Sam’s size. As far as Dean knew, there was no one in the coven that tall, not that he made a habit of actually spending any time with people who weren’t death dealers.
“YOU?” Sarah asked again, interrupting his thoughts, looking down at Sam again. “You haven’t had a single liaison in the 200 hundred years I’ve known you!”
“Who says I’m having one now?” he asked her as he assembled his guns.
Sarah glared at him and pursed her lips, huffing. “I’m not stupid, Dean! Just look at him, he’s the very essence of hedonism!”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Dean smiled into his shoulder, his back turned to her. Sarah was “Why are you here?”
“Jo sent me to get you, she’s furious that you missed the party last night.”
Dean turned to her, eyes blazing. All that bloody traitor could think about was dancing and drinking herself merry, rather than the very real problem of the lycans organizing in the tunnels. Death Dealers had been dying for the last couple of centuries because Jo had left John alive. The Jo he knew would stoop to treachery to attain the seat of the coven, but playing against her own kind and pretending to kill John? The entire thing reeked of corruption. Even he hadn’t expected this of her.
“Tell her I am unwell,” he said finally, barely able to keep his tone even.
“Dean!” Sarah sighed, eyes rolling heavenward. After a long moment of silence she shifted tactics. “Also, Jo would like to know what you did with her car?”
“It’s at the bottom of the Thames!”
Sarah fell back against the wall behind her, pressing her hands over her mouth. “Dean, you are in so much trouble!”
Dean turned back to her, his eyes glowing icy blue. “When you give her the news, remind her of a little event some four hundred years ago, The Battle of Brynden’s Hill.”
“Dean, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sarah replied, shrinking back against the wall. Fear was written plain across her face at his warlike demeanor and blue eyes.
He ignored her, his voice escalating. “And then you ask her if she killed John, why he’s still alive and walking!”
Sam woke at the sound of their raised voices, stumbling out of Dean’s bed. Sarah and Dean both were momentarily distracted by his nudity.
Dean came to his senses first, his eyes fading back to brilliant green. “Sam, we have to leave.”
Sam blinked a few times, combing a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, okay.”
Sarah continued staring at him pointedly and Sam finally seemed to notice, his body flushing a pale pink all over. Dean smiled and threw some clothes at him.
“Don’t mind Sarah, vampires have absolutely no sense of modesty.” Sam hurriedly scrambled into his clothes, his blush only getting deeper.
“How can you joke after what you just said?” Sarah asked him, turning shocked eyes back on him. “What you spoke of, that’s treason! Treason, Dean!”
“I know, Sarah,” the other vampire said evenly, strapping a gun into a thigh holster. “That’s why I need to go get answers.”
“Dean, this ruins everything!” Sarah replied, sinking to the floor, placing her head in her hands. She wanted Jo so badly, she’d done everything in her power to get her, it was just her bloody luck that Jo would turn out to be a traitorous snake. When she finally looked up again, Dean and Sam were gone and the black silk curtains flapped lazily from the wind coming in through the wide-open bay window.
*
Sam couldn’t believe this place. A goddamn mystic? Jesus Christ, after that Dean’ll tell him Santa Claus was fuckin’ real too. The last two days had been absolutely insane and all Sam wanted to do was curl up and hide. He ignored the voice inside telling him he’d got the best sleep he’d ever had lying in Dean’s bed, surrounded by his spicy wintry scent. There were a lot of things that Sam Winchester was, but a sentimentalist? Not by far.
Dean was carefully pushing his way through the door ahead of him, his body always in front of Sam’s. He wondered if Dean did that because Sam was human or if he did that because that was just how he operated.
“You’re not human,” a voice wafted through the dark incense laden air.
Sam jumped and Dean whirled about, gun trained on a point in the room only he could see. Slowly the room lightened to a dim glow, illuminating a large black woman standing in a doorway.
“What was that?” Dean asked, flicking off the safety.
She smiled, completely ignoring the cocked weapon. “Your companion thinks he’s human, but he’s not.”
Dean said over his shoulder at Sam, his eyes and gun still trained on the woman. “Didn’t I say you were a mutant?”
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, he had a more pressing problem, like the fact that she seemed to hear his thoughts.
“Only when you’re shoutin’ ‘em in my ear!” the black woman said, coming fully into the room. Sam started and without meaning to his hand flew up to his head.
“What?” Dean asked, completely unaware of the dialogue between the two, weapon still level on her chest. She didn’t appear to care.
Sam sidled up close to Dean, using the vampire as a barrier between himself and the freaky woman. “She can hear my thoughts.”
Dean smiled without mirth, his eyeteeth gleaming. “She is also a lycan.”
“Don’t much teach to use your brains up at that fool coven do they?” The woman replied dryly. “Of course I’m a werewolf, all Stargazers are.”
“And you’re supposed to give us answers?” Dean asked, incredulously. “Betray your own kind?” Dean’s voice dripped with anger and disgust, and Sam could feel his muscles lock up with tension in front of him. It felt like second nature to reach out a soothing hand to run across one broad shoulder.
“I would never betray my kind!” she snarled back, all good humor gone from her face. “How can I when my King stands with you?”
Dean took an involuntary step back, crashing into Sam. “What?” Sam’s warm palm on his shoulder steadied him.
“You’d best sit down,” she sighed, indicating two chairs. “It’s a long story.”
Dean sat stiffly, looking ready to jump up at any moment, but Sam just threw himself into the chair, puzzling over this king business. The woman, Missouri, he guessed she was, waited for them to settle themselves.
“Currently there are thirteen tribes of werewolves: the Black Furies, the Get of Fenris, the Red Talons, the Bone Gnawers, the Shadow Lords, the Silver Fangs, the Wendigo, the Uktenna, The Silent Striders, the Stargazers, the Glass Walkers, the Children of Gaia, and the Fianna.”
Dean made a face and Sam knew, that even after four hundred years of fighting werewolves, this was all news to him. The thought was kind of amusing. Self-assured Dean had certainly been caught with his pants down.
“Each tribe was imbued with its special talent, the glass walkers with their affinity for technology, the Silver Fangs to rule, the Shadow Lords for treachery—all given to them to fight the power of the evil Wyrm.”
Dean’s face was completely inscrutable and Sam had no idea what to think about any of it. Seemed like every time someone opened their mouth the story just got more and more ridiculous.
Missouri continued. “Together these tribes made up the Garou nation, and they had an uneasy truce with the vampires, who, while so different from them, were still a changing breed, and thus family.”
Sam leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Missouri smiled at him for a second before moving on. “But the Shadow Lords lost sight of their purpose and they ever sought to push the Silver Fangs off the thrown and take up the mantle of rule themselves. Five hundred years ago, they saw their chance. A foolish young Stargazer made a prophecy that when the Vampire and Garou joined hands they would form a greater race to combat the Wyrm, but the vampires held to different lore than we did, that of the Storm Lords, and they saw us as their lower base-born cousin and not as their equals.”
Sam blinked, who knew it was so complicated. He had a feeling from the look on Missouri’s face that only she could be that foolish young stargazer.
“The Shadow Lords went to the Vampires, told them that the Silver Fangs intended to seize their men and women, form this great race, and eradicate the vampires all together as the prophecy dictated. The vampires, in their fear, believed them, they knew nothing of the corruptive power of the Wyrm or the need to fight against it.”
“What is this Wyrm you speak of?” Dean interrupted, his voice and face inscrutable in their emotionless.
Missouri considered for a moment. “It is a force of entropy, threatening to consume all that is created.”
“What did the vampires do then?” Sam asked, wanting to get on with the story.
“Waited, mostly for any sign that what the Shadow Lords had indicated would come to pass. And it did, a member of Lady Eleanor’s coven, Mary Ravenswood, fell in love with John of the Get, the leader of the Fenrirs. Eleanor found out and in her anger not only executed Mary, but turned upon the royal family, the Silver Fangs, citing a breach of treason.”
Sam closed his eyes, sadness overwhelming him at such a small misunderstanding.
“They stormed the Winter Stronghold, killing everyone in it, but for the young Princess Katherina, who escaped with a nurse maid. The Shadow Lords in their folly had expected the Vampires to end the bloodshed there and allow them to assume the thrown, but they were not sated. They fell upon the lords at the same time they promised them high honors and the tribe only barely escaped decimation.”
“If what you say is true than the Vampires started the war not the Lycans.” Sam looked over at the vampire, wanting to reach out and touch him, wanting to do anything to erase that terrible expression from his face.
Missouri nodded. “Yes, Dean, you have been misled.”
“Why would they go to such lengths all because of one woman?” Sam asked quietly.
“Mary Ravenswood was promised to another coven, her defection was viewed as the gravest insult.”
Sam shook his head. “But it seems so much—too large of a price for the lycans to pay for one woman.”
Missouri nodded. “That is the nature of war.”
Dean was silent for a long time. “And then John rose, organizing the werewolves together again, fighting back against the Vampires.”
“Yes, but he couldn’t hold them together, the Shadow Lords undermined him every step of the way, and tribal rivalries wouldn’t stand quietly by without the calming influence of the Silver Fang to lead them.” Missouri smiled sadly at them both.
“But John held on…” Dean trailed off.
“For a century they held on, but they were pyrrhic victories at best, John was running out of ideas, when Josephina, a vampire of your coven, startled upon him.”
“Storm Lords,” Dean cried, turning his face away.
“She made a deal with him,” Missouri ignored Dean. “he would pretend that she had killed him, giving him the time for a much needed regrouping. For at that point, there came another prophecy: that the Silver Fang lived on, and one day, one would rise again, to lead the Garou to victory.”
She looked pointedly at Sam, much to his consternation. He’d ignored her earlier king comment because he hadn’t known what to make of it, but this, this whole prince of the werewolf business was truly ridiculous. His parents, before their deaths, had been completely normal.
Missouri barreled on, seemingly unaware of his mental refusal to believe it, “In return, John would give her the way to end the coven when the time came, allowing her to take power.”
Dean jerked in his seat. “I’ve got to stop her.”
Sam reached out and grabbed Dean’s wrist, his grip suddenly stronger than any human’s should be. “We haven’t heard the rest of the story.”
“It doesn’t matter to me!” Dean shouted, his eyes dangerous blue again. “I don’t care if the vampires started the war; it was werewolves who murdered my family! It was werewolves who slaughtered my nieces and nephews and my father! It was werewolves who raped my sisters and killed their husbands! And it was Eleanor who saved me, who took me from the ashes of my home and gave me a purpose again. I owe my allegiance to her!”
Missouri looked on sadly and Sam felt irrational anger filling him. “If Jo waited four hundred years, she can wait fifteen more minutes! This is important to me! If you would go, then go, but I will not go with you!”
Dean subsided, but his eyes were still snapping with blue fire.
“You said Princess Katherina survived?” Sam asked, turning back to Missouri.
“I’m getting to that,” Missouri chided. “First you need to know that all the tribes dispersed, too caught up in their own cares and their own survival to worry about the vampires. They had to worry about the power of the Wyrm. Many of the tribes thought the conflict with the vampires would blow over, that they could fight the Wyrm without the help of their brothers and sisters. But it didn’t and they couldn’t. Once the ties that bound us all together were broken, they remained that way.”
“But the prophecy?” Sam wondered aloud.
“Many werewolves began to dismiss the prophecy, remembering what the last one had brought them, but there you sit, the last surviving descendent of the Silver Fang.”
“Why don’t all of us know all this?” Dean asked, ignoring Missouri’s statement about Sam’s new title. “Don’t they say forewarned is forearmed?”
“From what I understand your Eleanor didn’t want anything like Mary happening again, so she burned all the knowledge that she had on the subject and bade all the older vampires to keep silent about what they knew.”
Dean still didn’t believe it. “But why is it that you’ve been losing? Ash says that you’ve only developed a fighting chance in the last ten years.”
“Ten years ago we first got word of Sam’s existence, and the Glass Walkers finally joined our motley little band.”
It gave Dean pause for a second, but he was up and firing questions again in no time. “I still don’t believe that Sam is the new Prince of the Lycans or whatever it is you’re styling him.” Dean crossed his arms, his expression grim.
Sam made a face. “I can’t say that I believe it either.”
Missouri smiled. “There is no doubt, the DNA that John got from you yesterday confirmed it.”
“If John honestly thought I was the last Silver Fang why would he go plunging swords into the car I was sitting in?”
Missouri laughed. “Well, obviously to get you back from this one!” She gestured at Dean. “We hardly would want our last hope in the hands of the vampires.”
“But I haven’t done any changing!”
“When was your 25th birthday, Sam?” Missouri asked gently.
“I—last week, why?”
Missouri pursed her lips. “The first full moon after your 25th birthday is when you will go through the first change! It should be the only time you cannot control it.”
“But that’s tomorrow!” Dean stood up and away from him, only now seeming to believe Missouri’s words that he’d been keeping company with an actual lycan. His expression was frightening to behold. Sam tried not to let his hurt show on his face. Was this the end then? Would Dean try to kill him now?
Dean held his gaze for a second longer before turning back to Missouri. “Ash knows all this?”
Missouri nodded. “Ash was doing a little research one day and found a little something that the vampires hadn’t thought to destroy. He came to find me afterwards.”
“Why does Ash continue to fight you then?”
“We all assume he has his reasons.” Missouri shook her head. “The real question is, what are you going to do, Dean?”
“I—I don’t—” he started feebly.
Sam bowed his head. “I understand if you want to leave me here, but I want you to know, that my place is here.”
He could practically feel Dean’s pained expression. “After her little story, you’re going to just take up her mantle?”
Sam hoped he didn’t look as broken as he felt as he met Dean’s betrayed eyes. He liked Dean, he liked being around Dean, he positively loved how he tasted and how he felt pressed up against him, if it had been another time another world, a place where there wasn’t this thing between them, a place where Jessica hadn’t been shot and killed, a place where he hadn’t forgotten to love.
But Dean had walked into his life and given him a purpose again, even if it hadn’t been the one he’d wanted, bigger maybe than removing guns from the hands of criminals and citizens alike. He couldn’t walk away from that, brewing feelings or no.
“It feels right, Dean,” Sam said finally, his eyes squeezed shut tight. “Go back to the coven and warn them if you must, but these are my people now.”
Dean shut his eyes and breathed in a shaky breath. “Bloody Lycans.”
Then he turned around and left, leaving Sam’s heart breaking and bleeding on the floor. Maybe Sam hadn’t forgotten how to love; he’d just forgotten what love looked like, what it tasted like, what it sounded like.
*
Ash had been on tenterhooks waiting for Dean to return for the last two hours. He hoped that the older vampire would have the good sense to come in the back way rather than barreling through the front door and announcing his presence, but Dean had more in the way of honor than sneakiness.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Dean just showed up in his lab, a very dark look upon his face.
“Good, you’re back!” Ash cried, when he’d regained his composure.
“What?” Dean asked. “What is it?”
“Amelia is dead!”
Dean’s expression went cold. “How?”
“I was supposed to pick her up, we had a double unit operation prepared, at the last minute Jo decided she wanted her man, Sike, to go.”
“And you let her?” Dean shouted, furious.
Ash shook his head. “Wasn’t anything I could do, she asked in front of the entire coven, and my men subsided like that!” He snapped his fingers.
Dean looked out and away. “Then who will awake Marcus, if not Amelia?”
“I don’t know,” Ash was nearly stricken at the thought, he hated not knowing things. “She’s planning something big.”
“The only thing for it is to awaken Eleanor!” Dean replied, his voice going very soft.
“No, you can’t!” Ash protested, knowing from the expression on Dean’s face that it was completely futile. “Don’t you see? That’s breaking five hundred different types of Coven law!”
“So be it!” Dean replied, resolute. “It’s the only way we can fight back.”
Ash saw something odd pass over Dean’s face but he didn’t know what to do about it. “Dean, what about that bloke you brought back here?”
Dean’s head snapped around to look at him, his expression forbidding. “What about him?”
“Did you love him?” Ash said after long tense moments of silence.
Dean’s face morphed first into embarrassment and then into anger. “What? No, of course not, I’ve only known him for two whole days!”
“Well, do you think you could love him?”
Dean blinked and then shook his head as if to clear it. “I—no, no of course not!”
Ash sagged back into his chair when Dean left. He had never before seen Dean the way he was in that second, flushed and fiery. In the twenty years that he’d known Dean, the other vampire had appeared to walk around like the living dead. Sam had walked into Dean’s life and done everything Jo had been trying to do for all time. It was too bad that it had to happen in these days.
Whatever was happening right now, it was very bad. He had stayed behind in the coven when he had found his answers because had Missouri asked him to. She had said the only way they could successfully fight the Wyrm was for Sam to come to power, and Dean was inexplicably tangled up in that. He knew Dean would think him a traitor to his own kind, but it wasn’t that. He had seen the destructive power of the Wyrm, he had seen how the werewolves were stretched thin trying to save them from the descent into chaos. He’d majored in physics he knew what that all meant. Already two tribes had been completely lost in the fight, the Croatan and the White Howlers.
Would the world be next? Would it be enough for the vampires, whose only thought was for vengeance and not for peace?
*
TBC
Well darlings, what'd you think?
Disclaimer: NO. NO. NO. I do not own Underworld, Supernatural, or Werewolf: the Apocalypse, anybody who tells you otherwise is a fool and a liar.
Summary: Vampires and werewolves have waged a nocturnal war against each other for centuries. But all bets are off when a vampire warrior named Dean, who's famous for his strength and werewolf-hunting prowess, becomes smitten with Sam, who the werewolves place a vital importance on. Supernatural/Underworld Crossover
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Chapters: 2/3
Genre: AU, SPN/Underworld Xover
Rating: NC-17
Acknowledgements: Thank you
albydarned for working on this even when you were amazingly busy. Also, thanks to whimsicalwonder for hand holding through all the naughty parts even though they make you uncomfortable. Chapter 1
Sam wasn’t sure how he’d found the fortitude to pull them both out of the Thames river, which was completely foul. The little cave he tugged them into was hardly any better, but it was shelter from the rain and he highly doubted the werewolves would come for them in there.
He couldn’t believe all that had happened to him in the span of six hours. Life was too short for this shit, and not to mention that he would have to worry about being some kind of mutant that could withstand werewolf bites. He certainly hadn’t ever managed to just heal himself after getting hurt before being bitten by that guy, that was for sure. Dean was still unconscious, his face almost more beautiful with the stillness sleep brought.
Sam couldn’t think much beyond the fact that he was completely freezing with only sodden pajamas protecting him from the elements and Dean’s skin was cool to the touch, like smooth marble beneath Sam’s palms as he pulled Dean’s coat off to inspect the shoulder wound. He realized he shouldn’t even be amazed anymore that the wound was closing up before his eyes.
A warm feeling suffused his body when Dean made a sexy little sound in the back of his throat and shifted in his sleep. He wasn’t exactly sure why it made him feel better about being attracted to Dean now that he knew he was a vampire. By all accounts that should make him feel worse, because Dean really, really didn’t give a fuck about humans dying and it was clearly obvious. Although for some reason he didn’t quite understand, Dean seemed to give a fuck about him. Dean shifted and his eyes finally opened, lashes fluttering.
“Hello,” he said softly, his eyes heavy-lidded.
Sam swallowed. “Hi.”
“You’re attracted to me,” Dean replied, his voice floating over Sam like a silky caress. Sam had never really been that attracted to accents, but Dean’s cool British one seemed to hit him where he least expected it.
Sam coughed at Dean’s frankness and looked away, finally answering him, “Yes.”
Dean reached up with delicate fingers and trailed them over Sam’s cheek bone. “And I you.” He rolled Sam underneath him, pinning the taller man with his body weight. “Tell me what you’ve heard about vampires.”
Sam swallowed, his pupils dilating at the press of Dean’s body upon his. “That you suck the blood of virgins.”
“Virgins?” Dean chuckled. “How boring!” He bent down and pressed his cool lips to Sam’s exposed throat, nipping at it gently with un-extended teeth. “And just so that you don’t worry, I haven’t fed off of anyone since the advent of blood banks.”
“Tell this to me when you don’t have your mouth at my jugular,” Sam whispered back.
Dean laughed, licking down his collarbone. “Ah, I don’t see you struggling.”
“I thought that we’d established that I’m insane and this is all a figment of my imagination,” Sam replied, inhaling deeply as Dean’s mouth reached one distended nipple.
Dean laved it with his tongue, enjoying the way Sam’s hips rose against him. Sam’s skin tasted like water and cinnamon and felt like velvet against his tongue. “I believe I’m very real, Sam.” He ran his hand down Sam’s body, finally stopping at Sam’s burgeoning erection.
Sam shuddered, warmth pouring back into his cold and tired muscles. They were in a little rocky outcropping, at night, while it rained dismally outside, but the only thing on Sam’s mind was Dean’s mouth and fingers sliding against his skin.
“Tell me more,” Dean said, pulling back to look at Sam below him. Sam had beautiful golden skin spread over hard muscle. They shouldn’t be doing this—wasting time, they should be searching for answers, fighting, anything but this slow languorous mapping of Sam’s body.
“Tell you…what?” Sam breathed, momentarily at a loss as the tip of Dean’s tongue traced designs around the areola. “Oh—I’ve heard that vampires are highly sexual creatures.”
Dean chuckled against his skin, nipping him right over his heart. “So it would seem.”
“Is it anything like Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”
Dean rolled his eyes as his blunt fingers snuck into Sam’s pants. “That movie makes me cringe.”
“I—can I—can I kiss you?” Sam asked, his breath catching in his throat as Dean’s fingers drifted over his painfully-hard cock.
Dean was momentarily taken aback; Sam could see it in his guarded expression. What he couldn’t possibly know was that Dean hadn’t kissed anyone since being turned several centuries ago. He couldn’t know that it hadn’t seemed right to Dean: vampires do not love, and kissing, kissing was an act of love.
Sam tugged Dean upwards before he could even protest, fingers stroking up his face and then pulling him in close. Dean settled his weight once more over Sam, comfortable and warmer somehow than he was earlier, gasping against Sam’s mouth as their cocks brushed. Sam smiled at him, his eyes dancing, and he took back control of the moment. He brushed his lips against Dean’s and the one gentle—almost aimless—touch sent a spike of hot pleasure coursing through Dean.
He couldn’t know that Dean wanted to say No, no it’s too much, and pull away. Sam wasn’t giving him the chance. He wanted to claim those sinful lips, to know what they tasted like, if his fantasies had even come close.
Dean kissed him back, and Sam didn’t know that he’d just crumbled a wall inside the vampire. He didn’t realize that Dean was reveling in the fact that the kiss didn’t feel like loss, or like yearning for forgotten sunrises and people who have long lain cold in their graves.
All he knew was that Dean was kissing him back, all his art and finesse lost in the sudden rush of hunger and desire. As Dean’s tongue curled against his, he raised his knee between the vampire’s thighs, grinding it against Dean’s erection. Dean moaned into his mouth, nipping viciously at his mouth. The burst of pain should have turned him off; it should have made him want to end it right the fuck now. But instead it was just pushing him further. He wanted to wrap himself around Dean and never let go, and he hadn’t felt that way since Jessica, hell he hadn’t felt that way with Jessica.
Dean’s tongue slid against his and he suddenly seemed to have forgotten how he’d ever lived without this. Kissing and rubbing against each other in a shitty freezing cave? It didn’t get any better than that. He was gasping and writhing against Dean, their hips working together, and he should have been embarrassed at his behavior, but he wasn’t. Dean sucked on his lower lip and flicked his nipple repeatedly and he wasn’t even thinking anymore about the bitter cold air or all the things that were so very wrong with his day. He single-mindedly thought about the fact that he was very likely going to come in his pants.
But Dean hadn’t forgotten and the vampire pulled himself away.
“Storm lords, you’re shuddering!” Dean said, smoothing a cool palm down Sam’s arm.
Sam blushed. “I don’t think that’s from the cold.”
Dean’s expression shifted through a variety of emotions too fast for Sam to decode. “I don’t do this…”
Sam didn’t either, but he didn’t say that. He grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Not so licentious as they say then?”
Dean laughed, but it was brittle and hollow. “Once upon a time, when I was just turned—but then I earned the honor of Death Dealer and I made killing lycans my life.”
Sam’s didn’t know what to think about that. He saw the need for revenge coursing through Dean as he spoke; it was the same as Sam’s need for vindication in the wake of Jessica’s death.
Sam shook his head to clear it and Dean spoke again, “We have about an hour till sunrise,” he said, his eyes on the mouth of the cave. “We need to get back to the coven. I need more answers.”
Sam nodded; the sweet languorous mood was lost. He wondered why he hoped it would return. He hadn’t wanted anything of that sort for a very long time.
*
John plunked down the blood-filled vial in front of Jim, his expression triumphant.
“Winchester’s blood, I take it?” Jim asked, picking up the vial and inspecting it.
John smiled. “Never send a Fury to do a Get’s work!” the fenrir smiled. Meg glared at John’s head.
“John, you won’t get anything accomplished by baiting her,” Jim admonished, stepping back behind his curtain.
“How is it that you of all people emerged to lead us? A misogynistic bastard like yourself?” Meg snarled at her liege.
John only smiled back, his canines bared. “Would you do it?”
Meg subsided. When the Silver Fangs had been deposed by the damn vampires and the Garou nation had plunged into chaos only John had risen to attempt to knit the edges back together again. For a time, he’d succeeded, but John had been unable to knit his own tribe the Get of Fenris with that of Meg’s, the Black Furies. The hatred between them had run too deep. The Red Talons had left their tenuous little alliance after that, taking with them the Wendigo, who wouldn’t deal with anyone else. The loss of the Wendigo had been more crippling than anything else.
But then John had played his part better than a Shadow Lord, when an opportunity with that craven little blonde vampire had presented itself, John had seized upon it. Get of Fenris or no, Meg would follow him to the ends of the earth. She had long ago realized that he was the only way to realize the Prophecy.
“I didn’t come here to argue, John,” she said finally, sighing. “Two striders arrived today with word from the Talons, I think it’s time.”
John looked off into the distance. “If Winchester isn’t the one, it will crush us, Meg. The Furies will not fight for me, nor the Red Talons, and the best we can hope for is a quick death at the hands of the Vampires.”
“But Winchester is the one…” Jim interrupted from behind him. John turned around, wonder on his face. He had hardly dared to hope anymore. Jim continued, “The DNA matches.”
John was silent for a moment longer before finally gathering his wits. “I must tell the Striders then and send word to the other tribes.”
John swept out of the room, leaving Jim and Meg behind. “I hope Winchester is up to the challenge,” Jim finally whispered.
Meg sighed. “It will be the end of us, if he is not.”
*
Sam slept on his bed, the black down comforter rucked up about his waist, his breathing even. Dean felt like he could just sit there and watch him for awhile, and the thought scared him. He didn’t know Sam. What he did know was that he was a freaky human who was resistant to werewolf bites, a freaky human who would one day die. But … but Dean had the power to turn him as all vampires did.
But would he dare? Of course not. This wasn’t life, oh yes, there were those who thought it was, but Winchester wouldn’t be one of them. He had a life, a lonely life maybe, but a life nevertheless. He couldn’t ever have that again if he was a vampire.
Dean sighed and got to his feet. He needed answers and he needed them now. He’d start with Ash, the only one he trusted in the whole giant 14th century pile of stones. He burst into the armory, making his way back to Ash’s lair. Ash would already be up; he didn’t like wasting time on sleep when he could be doing something more productive.
Just as he had expected, Ash was sitting at his desk, tinkering with some sensitive technology, barely sparing Dean a glance when he thundered in.
“What can I do you for?” Ash asked after long moments of Dean standing in silence watching the younger vampire.
Dean warred with himself. He liked Ash, Ash hadn’t cared in the least about coven rules or hierarchies, he’d just walked right up to him on the firing range and told Dean he could make his gun better. But how much of the vampire could he trust and was he willing to drag him into it if he did? But then he thought of Sam lying back in his bed and for reasons unknown his resolve hardened.
“How much do you know of John’s death?”
“The same that everyone knows, Battle of Bryden’s Hill, Jo caught John high tailing it, slashed his head off, and took his tattooed flesh back as proof.
“But they never saw an actual body?”
Ash nodded. “Yup, body suspiciously absent.”
Dean closed his eyes and breathed deep, hoping Ash wouldn’t attempt to drag him straight to Jo for this. “What if I told you that I saw John today?”
Ash sat up straight in his chair. “John, the John? John, the lycan’s only hope, that John?”
Dean threw up his hands. “Yes, that one! What other John would I be talking about?”
“Well, I don’t know, I see John from Squad II everyday, could’ve been that one!”
“Ash!” Dean cried.
The other vampire sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Listen Dean, this goes much deeper than I thought.”
Dean sat upright in his chair, what was Ash implying? “What does?”
“It’s not safe here,” Ash replied simply. “If you want information—”
“Yes?” Dean burst out. Ash dug around in his desk for a few seconds, tossing out papers and pens aimlessly. Dean winced at the mess. Finally Ash pulled something out that he didn’t immediately toss over his shoulder: a little white card with a name printed on it in bold face.
“Talk to her,” Ash said, handing over the card. “She’s the only one with any answers.”
“Missouri Mosely?” Dean asked, incredulously, turning the card over in his hand. A woman by the name of an American state was supposed to yield the answers? Dean had a very bad feeling about that.
Ash smiled. “That’d be the one.”
He narrowed his eyes at Ash’s expression. “I hope you’re right about this, Ash.” Dean sighed.
Ash shook his head. “I wish I wasn’t.”
Dean left at that cryptic statement, still puzzling over it as he made his way back to his room. He had to get Sam out of here, if the coven found he’d brought a human back to the mansion they’d be on him in an instant, especially one so gorgeous and intriguing as Sam.
He walked back into his quarters, horrified to see Sarah, through the open door to his bedroom, standing over Sam, reaching out to touch him.
“Don’t!” he said harshly, his hand going to his hip for his 9mm, and she started pulling her hand back as if burned. He checked over Sam’s body under lowered lashes, internally thankful that there didn’t appear to be a mark on him.
Her eyes were round and her mouth was open as she backed away from the two. “You’ve brought a human back to the Coven!”
“Yes,” he said to her as he began gathering stuff up for their trip to talk with Missouri. Sam’s needed some better clothes than the sodden pajamas that Dean had surreptitiously tossed into the trash. Maybe Sarah knew where to get some in Sam’s size. As far as Dean knew, there was no one in the coven that tall, not that he made a habit of actually spending any time with people who weren’t death dealers.
“YOU?” Sarah asked again, interrupting his thoughts, looking down at Sam again. “You haven’t had a single liaison in the 200 hundred years I’ve known you!”
“Who says I’m having one now?” he asked her as he assembled his guns.
Sarah glared at him and pursed her lips, huffing. “I’m not stupid, Dean! Just look at him, he’s the very essence of hedonism!”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Dean smiled into his shoulder, his back turned to her. Sarah was “Why are you here?”
“Jo sent me to get you, she’s furious that you missed the party last night.”
Dean turned to her, eyes blazing. All that bloody traitor could think about was dancing and drinking herself merry, rather than the very real problem of the lycans organizing in the tunnels. Death Dealers had been dying for the last couple of centuries because Jo had left John alive. The Jo he knew would stoop to treachery to attain the seat of the coven, but playing against her own kind and pretending to kill John? The entire thing reeked of corruption. Even he hadn’t expected this of her.
“Tell her I am unwell,” he said finally, barely able to keep his tone even.
“Dean!” Sarah sighed, eyes rolling heavenward. After a long moment of silence she shifted tactics. “Also, Jo would like to know what you did with her car?”
“It’s at the bottom of the Thames!”
Sarah fell back against the wall behind her, pressing her hands over her mouth. “Dean, you are in so much trouble!”
Dean turned back to her, his eyes glowing icy blue. “When you give her the news, remind her of a little event some four hundred years ago, The Battle of Brynden’s Hill.”
“Dean, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sarah replied, shrinking back against the wall. Fear was written plain across her face at his warlike demeanor and blue eyes.
He ignored her, his voice escalating. “And then you ask her if she killed John, why he’s still alive and walking!”
Sam woke at the sound of their raised voices, stumbling out of Dean’s bed. Sarah and Dean both were momentarily distracted by his nudity.
Dean came to his senses first, his eyes fading back to brilliant green. “Sam, we have to leave.”
Sam blinked a few times, combing a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, okay.”
Sarah continued staring at him pointedly and Sam finally seemed to notice, his body flushing a pale pink all over. Dean smiled and threw some clothes at him.
“Don’t mind Sarah, vampires have absolutely no sense of modesty.” Sam hurriedly scrambled into his clothes, his blush only getting deeper.
“How can you joke after what you just said?” Sarah asked him, turning shocked eyes back on him. “What you spoke of, that’s treason! Treason, Dean!”
“I know, Sarah,” the other vampire said evenly, strapping a gun into a thigh holster. “That’s why I need to go get answers.”
“Dean, this ruins everything!” Sarah replied, sinking to the floor, placing her head in her hands. She wanted Jo so badly, she’d done everything in her power to get her, it was just her bloody luck that Jo would turn out to be a traitorous snake. When she finally looked up again, Dean and Sam were gone and the black silk curtains flapped lazily from the wind coming in through the wide-open bay window.
*
Sam couldn’t believe this place. A goddamn mystic? Jesus Christ, after that Dean’ll tell him Santa Claus was fuckin’ real too. The last two days had been absolutely insane and all Sam wanted to do was curl up and hide. He ignored the voice inside telling him he’d got the best sleep he’d ever had lying in Dean’s bed, surrounded by his spicy wintry scent. There were a lot of things that Sam Winchester was, but a sentimentalist? Not by far.
Dean was carefully pushing his way through the door ahead of him, his body always in front of Sam’s. He wondered if Dean did that because Sam was human or if he did that because that was just how he operated.
“You’re not human,” a voice wafted through the dark incense laden air.
Sam jumped and Dean whirled about, gun trained on a point in the room only he could see. Slowly the room lightened to a dim glow, illuminating a large black woman standing in a doorway.
“What was that?” Dean asked, flicking off the safety.
She smiled, completely ignoring the cocked weapon. “Your companion thinks he’s human, but he’s not.”
Dean said over his shoulder at Sam, his eyes and gun still trained on the woman. “Didn’t I say you were a mutant?”
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, he had a more pressing problem, like the fact that she seemed to hear his thoughts.
“Only when you’re shoutin’ ‘em in my ear!” the black woman said, coming fully into the room. Sam started and without meaning to his hand flew up to his head.
“What?” Dean asked, completely unaware of the dialogue between the two, weapon still level on her chest. She didn’t appear to care.
Sam sidled up close to Dean, using the vampire as a barrier between himself and the freaky woman. “She can hear my thoughts.”
Dean smiled without mirth, his eyeteeth gleaming. “She is also a lycan.”
“Don’t much teach to use your brains up at that fool coven do they?” The woman replied dryly. “Of course I’m a werewolf, all Stargazers are.”
“And you’re supposed to give us answers?” Dean asked, incredulously. “Betray your own kind?” Dean’s voice dripped with anger and disgust, and Sam could feel his muscles lock up with tension in front of him. It felt like second nature to reach out a soothing hand to run across one broad shoulder.
“I would never betray my kind!” she snarled back, all good humor gone from her face. “How can I when my King stands with you?”
Dean took an involuntary step back, crashing into Sam. “What?” Sam’s warm palm on his shoulder steadied him.
“You’d best sit down,” she sighed, indicating two chairs. “It’s a long story.”
Dean sat stiffly, looking ready to jump up at any moment, but Sam just threw himself into the chair, puzzling over this king business. The woman, Missouri, he guessed she was, waited for them to settle themselves.
“Currently there are thirteen tribes of werewolves: the Black Furies, the Get of Fenris, the Red Talons, the Bone Gnawers, the Shadow Lords, the Silver Fangs, the Wendigo, the Uktenna, The Silent Striders, the Stargazers, the Glass Walkers, the Children of Gaia, and the Fianna.”
Dean made a face and Sam knew, that even after four hundred years of fighting werewolves, this was all news to him. The thought was kind of amusing. Self-assured Dean had certainly been caught with his pants down.
“Each tribe was imbued with its special talent, the glass walkers with their affinity for technology, the Silver Fangs to rule, the Shadow Lords for treachery—all given to them to fight the power of the evil Wyrm.”
Dean’s face was completely inscrutable and Sam had no idea what to think about any of it. Seemed like every time someone opened their mouth the story just got more and more ridiculous.
Missouri continued. “Together these tribes made up the Garou nation, and they had an uneasy truce with the vampires, who, while so different from them, were still a changing breed, and thus family.”
Sam leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Missouri smiled at him for a second before moving on. “But the Shadow Lords lost sight of their purpose and they ever sought to push the Silver Fangs off the thrown and take up the mantle of rule themselves. Five hundred years ago, they saw their chance. A foolish young Stargazer made a prophecy that when the Vampire and Garou joined hands they would form a greater race to combat the Wyrm, but the vampires held to different lore than we did, that of the Storm Lords, and they saw us as their lower base-born cousin and not as their equals.”
Sam blinked, who knew it was so complicated. He had a feeling from the look on Missouri’s face that only she could be that foolish young stargazer.
“The Shadow Lords went to the Vampires, told them that the Silver Fangs intended to seize their men and women, form this great race, and eradicate the vampires all together as the prophecy dictated. The vampires, in their fear, believed them, they knew nothing of the corruptive power of the Wyrm or the need to fight against it.”
“What is this Wyrm you speak of?” Dean interrupted, his voice and face inscrutable in their emotionless.
Missouri considered for a moment. “It is a force of entropy, threatening to consume all that is created.”
“What did the vampires do then?” Sam asked, wanting to get on with the story.
“Waited, mostly for any sign that what the Shadow Lords had indicated would come to pass. And it did, a member of Lady Eleanor’s coven, Mary Ravenswood, fell in love with John of the Get, the leader of the Fenrirs. Eleanor found out and in her anger not only executed Mary, but turned upon the royal family, the Silver Fangs, citing a breach of treason.”
Sam closed his eyes, sadness overwhelming him at such a small misunderstanding.
“They stormed the Winter Stronghold, killing everyone in it, but for the young Princess Katherina, who escaped with a nurse maid. The Shadow Lords in their folly had expected the Vampires to end the bloodshed there and allow them to assume the thrown, but they were not sated. They fell upon the lords at the same time they promised them high honors and the tribe only barely escaped decimation.”
“If what you say is true than the Vampires started the war not the Lycans.” Sam looked over at the vampire, wanting to reach out and touch him, wanting to do anything to erase that terrible expression from his face.
Missouri nodded. “Yes, Dean, you have been misled.”
“Why would they go to such lengths all because of one woman?” Sam asked quietly.
“Mary Ravenswood was promised to another coven, her defection was viewed as the gravest insult.”
Sam shook his head. “But it seems so much—too large of a price for the lycans to pay for one woman.”
Missouri nodded. “That is the nature of war.”
Dean was silent for a long time. “And then John rose, organizing the werewolves together again, fighting back against the Vampires.”
“Yes, but he couldn’t hold them together, the Shadow Lords undermined him every step of the way, and tribal rivalries wouldn’t stand quietly by without the calming influence of the Silver Fang to lead them.” Missouri smiled sadly at them both.
“But John held on…” Dean trailed off.
“For a century they held on, but they were pyrrhic victories at best, John was running out of ideas, when Josephina, a vampire of your coven, startled upon him.”
“Storm Lords,” Dean cried, turning his face away.
“She made a deal with him,” Missouri ignored Dean. “he would pretend that she had killed him, giving him the time for a much needed regrouping. For at that point, there came another prophecy: that the Silver Fang lived on, and one day, one would rise again, to lead the Garou to victory.”
She looked pointedly at Sam, much to his consternation. He’d ignored her earlier king comment because he hadn’t known what to make of it, but this, this whole prince of the werewolf business was truly ridiculous. His parents, before their deaths, had been completely normal.
Missouri barreled on, seemingly unaware of his mental refusal to believe it, “In return, John would give her the way to end the coven when the time came, allowing her to take power.”
Dean jerked in his seat. “I’ve got to stop her.”
Sam reached out and grabbed Dean’s wrist, his grip suddenly stronger than any human’s should be. “We haven’t heard the rest of the story.”
“It doesn’t matter to me!” Dean shouted, his eyes dangerous blue again. “I don’t care if the vampires started the war; it was werewolves who murdered my family! It was werewolves who slaughtered my nieces and nephews and my father! It was werewolves who raped my sisters and killed their husbands! And it was Eleanor who saved me, who took me from the ashes of my home and gave me a purpose again. I owe my allegiance to her!”
Missouri looked on sadly and Sam felt irrational anger filling him. “If Jo waited four hundred years, she can wait fifteen more minutes! This is important to me! If you would go, then go, but I will not go with you!”
Dean subsided, but his eyes were still snapping with blue fire.
“You said Princess Katherina survived?” Sam asked, turning back to Missouri.
“I’m getting to that,” Missouri chided. “First you need to know that all the tribes dispersed, too caught up in their own cares and their own survival to worry about the vampires. They had to worry about the power of the Wyrm. Many of the tribes thought the conflict with the vampires would blow over, that they could fight the Wyrm without the help of their brothers and sisters. But it didn’t and they couldn’t. Once the ties that bound us all together were broken, they remained that way.”
“But the prophecy?” Sam wondered aloud.
“Many werewolves began to dismiss the prophecy, remembering what the last one had brought them, but there you sit, the last surviving descendent of the Silver Fang.”
“Why don’t all of us know all this?” Dean asked, ignoring Missouri’s statement about Sam’s new title. “Don’t they say forewarned is forearmed?”
“From what I understand your Eleanor didn’t want anything like Mary happening again, so she burned all the knowledge that she had on the subject and bade all the older vampires to keep silent about what they knew.”
Dean still didn’t believe it. “But why is it that you’ve been losing? Ash says that you’ve only developed a fighting chance in the last ten years.”
“Ten years ago we first got word of Sam’s existence, and the Glass Walkers finally joined our motley little band.”
It gave Dean pause for a second, but he was up and firing questions again in no time. “I still don’t believe that Sam is the new Prince of the Lycans or whatever it is you’re styling him.” Dean crossed his arms, his expression grim.
Sam made a face. “I can’t say that I believe it either.”
Missouri smiled. “There is no doubt, the DNA that John got from you yesterday confirmed it.”
“If John honestly thought I was the last Silver Fang why would he go plunging swords into the car I was sitting in?”
Missouri laughed. “Well, obviously to get you back from this one!” She gestured at Dean. “We hardly would want our last hope in the hands of the vampires.”
“But I haven’t done any changing!”
“When was your 25th birthday, Sam?” Missouri asked gently.
“I—last week, why?”
Missouri pursed her lips. “The first full moon after your 25th birthday is when you will go through the first change! It should be the only time you cannot control it.”
“But that’s tomorrow!” Dean stood up and away from him, only now seeming to believe Missouri’s words that he’d been keeping company with an actual lycan. His expression was frightening to behold. Sam tried not to let his hurt show on his face. Was this the end then? Would Dean try to kill him now?
Dean held his gaze for a second longer before turning back to Missouri. “Ash knows all this?”
Missouri nodded. “Ash was doing a little research one day and found a little something that the vampires hadn’t thought to destroy. He came to find me afterwards.”
“Why does Ash continue to fight you then?”
“We all assume he has his reasons.” Missouri shook her head. “The real question is, what are you going to do, Dean?”
“I—I don’t—” he started feebly.
Sam bowed his head. “I understand if you want to leave me here, but I want you to know, that my place is here.”
He could practically feel Dean’s pained expression. “After her little story, you’re going to just take up her mantle?”
Sam hoped he didn’t look as broken as he felt as he met Dean’s betrayed eyes. He liked Dean, he liked being around Dean, he positively loved how he tasted and how he felt pressed up against him, if it had been another time another world, a place where there wasn’t this thing between them, a place where Jessica hadn’t been shot and killed, a place where he hadn’t forgotten to love.
But Dean had walked into his life and given him a purpose again, even if it hadn’t been the one he’d wanted, bigger maybe than removing guns from the hands of criminals and citizens alike. He couldn’t walk away from that, brewing feelings or no.
“It feels right, Dean,” Sam said finally, his eyes squeezed shut tight. “Go back to the coven and warn them if you must, but these are my people now.”
Dean shut his eyes and breathed in a shaky breath. “Bloody Lycans.”
Then he turned around and left, leaving Sam’s heart breaking and bleeding on the floor. Maybe Sam hadn’t forgotten how to love; he’d just forgotten what love looked like, what it tasted like, what it sounded like.
*
Ash had been on tenterhooks waiting for Dean to return for the last two hours. He hoped that the older vampire would have the good sense to come in the back way rather than barreling through the front door and announcing his presence, but Dean had more in the way of honor than sneakiness.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Dean just showed up in his lab, a very dark look upon his face.
“Good, you’re back!” Ash cried, when he’d regained his composure.
“What?” Dean asked. “What is it?”
“Amelia is dead!”
Dean’s expression went cold. “How?”
“I was supposed to pick her up, we had a double unit operation prepared, at the last minute Jo decided she wanted her man, Sike, to go.”
“And you let her?” Dean shouted, furious.
Ash shook his head. “Wasn’t anything I could do, she asked in front of the entire coven, and my men subsided like that!” He snapped his fingers.
Dean looked out and away. “Then who will awake Marcus, if not Amelia?”
“I don’t know,” Ash was nearly stricken at the thought, he hated not knowing things. “She’s planning something big.”
“The only thing for it is to awaken Eleanor!” Dean replied, his voice going very soft.
“No, you can’t!” Ash protested, knowing from the expression on Dean’s face that it was completely futile. “Don’t you see? That’s breaking five hundred different types of Coven law!”
“So be it!” Dean replied, resolute. “It’s the only way we can fight back.”
Ash saw something odd pass over Dean’s face but he didn’t know what to do about it. “Dean, what about that bloke you brought back here?”
Dean’s head snapped around to look at him, his expression forbidding. “What about him?”
“Did you love him?” Ash said after long tense moments of silence.
Dean’s face morphed first into embarrassment and then into anger. “What? No, of course not, I’ve only known him for two whole days!”
“Well, do you think you could love him?”
Dean blinked and then shook his head as if to clear it. “I—no, no of course not!”
Ash sagged back into his chair when Dean left. He had never before seen Dean the way he was in that second, flushed and fiery. In the twenty years that he’d known Dean, the other vampire had appeared to walk around like the living dead. Sam had walked into Dean’s life and done everything Jo had been trying to do for all time. It was too bad that it had to happen in these days.
Whatever was happening right now, it was very bad. He had stayed behind in the coven when he had found his answers because had Missouri asked him to. She had said the only way they could successfully fight the Wyrm was for Sam to come to power, and Dean was inexplicably tangled up in that. He knew Dean would think him a traitor to his own kind, but it wasn’t that. He had seen the destructive power of the Wyrm, he had seen how the werewolves were stretched thin trying to save them from the descent into chaos. He’d majored in physics he knew what that all meant. Already two tribes had been completely lost in the fight, the Croatan and the White Howlers.
Would the world be next? Would it be enough for the vampires, whose only thought was for vengeance and not for peace?
*
TBC
Well darlings, what'd you think?