A/N: Most people don't think much of the Wraith beyond "Oh my gosh they are going to eat us kill them kill them KILL THEM!" But when I watched "The Defiant One" the other day, I got to thinking - what's his story? What happened that killed every Wraith on that ship except him? What made him special? So...here I am.

Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis is owned by MGM, I believe. At any rate, it's not owned by yours truly. Unfortunately. If it was, John and Elizabeth would have gotten at least one kiss while not under the influence of- oh, sorry. Spoilers.

Heed, children. The story I am about to tell you is one of heartbreak and tragedy, of war and anger, of hunger and a long, long sleep. It is a tale of warriors turning against their brothers, of one shot that killed hundreds, of death.

This is the story of the Defiant One.

It will not be a story most wish to hear, as it is the story of a race that uses humans as food – much as humans use cattle to the same purpose. The Defiant One was a creature of that race, and he fed on countless humans over the course of his long life. However, many years ago, his days of harvesting from the planets of the galaxy came to an end. There are many tales of what happened that day, from both sides of the conflict.

This is his story.

During the days of the war between the Lanteans and the Wraith, the latter race had slaughtered the former. He looked back on the many battles he had been in and felt pleasure, for he had assisted in bringing his people one step closer to victory. Finally, they had the Lanteans confined to their last great city, under siege, and the sieged could not hold out for eternity. They were far too few, the Wraith far too great, for the tide of war to turn. He knew this, and he savored the thought as his supply ship approached Lantea.

His faith – and his world – were shaken by a single blast of energy.

He received word of the satellite moments before it discharged, grazing the hull and obliterating their engines. He shoved the pilot out of the way and attempted to land safely on the planet below, succeeding only marginally. The ship hit hard, sending everyone to the ground.

He pulled himself up slowly, feeling his wounds heal swiftly. He attempted to assess the damage from the bridge, but there was no power to do so. Snarling, he made his way to the engine room. Rather, to what had been the engine room – that section of the ship was closed off, too damaged to have any hope of repair.

He and his brothers roared their rage and their pain to the too-distant sky.

For the first century or so, he held hope that the others would come for them. The crew had managed to restore partial power to the ship, enough to keep the humans cocooned and a distress signal active. But it was not to last. Though their numbers were few and the humans were many, the food was not enough. He and the rest of the crew hibernated in shifts, always leaving one or two awake as guards, in an attempt to make the food last as they waited for the others to come for them.

But the others never came.

Over time, all the humans were drained dry. Over the centuries, his hunger grew, as did that of everyone else. One night, six millennia after the crash, one guard turned on the other and fed. When he awoke and learned of this, he punished the guard – by feeding on him. And so the vicious cycle began, with some never going back into hibernation for fear of being fed upon while they slept. After countless centuries of this, only a few remained. He was one of them. Though he had long ago given up hope of rescue, still he kept the distress signal strong. The signal was the only thing left to unite the remainder of the crew.

It was not enough.

His brothers turned on each other again, and again, and again. The cycle continued until there were only two left – himself, and an uncommonly clever drone. They knew there could be no hope of rescue – it had been more than nine thousand years since they had seen a Wraith who was not originally on the supply ship. But they stayed away from each other, from temptation. Finally, though, the hunger was too much. It got the better of the drone, who attacked him. He could have simply killed the drone, but he was so hungry...so very, very hungry...

He fed.

As he rose from the drone's corpse and realized what he had done, he roared his pain and his rage at the sky, much as he had done nearly ten thousand years ago. But this time, there was no chorus of voices to join his, no brotherhood to numb the pain. There was only himself.

He was alone.

The first clear thought he had was to hibernate, to conserve energy until the others came – for surely, his fractured mind said, they would come. So he found a place in the husk of the ship that was protected from the sun and would ensure he would not awaken with ice coating his skin, and he slept.

He had never slept for so long. Centuries passed unnoticed, and he slept. Day turned to night turned to day again, and he slept. Nothing roused him from his deathlike sleep, until one day, ten thousand years after he first came to this miserable planet, a ship came.

A ship...carrying humans.

And he was so very hungry.

A/N: Well, there you have it. The story of the Defiant One, the one who defied death to take him as it took his brothers. *claps hands together* Please review! Otherwise Deffy here *gestures to the Defiant One* may just pay you a visit.

Deffy: Insignificant human. When I feed on you-

Yeah, yeah, put a sock in it.