Here's something I wrote just for Halloween, that was inspired by a post I made on tumblr that basically took the premise from the movie "Underworld" (a werewolf and vampire falling in love), and brought to Downton Abbey. This story is very much credited to shana-rosee, who also provided the prompts for parts 1 & 2. It was at her "persistance" ;o) that it became more than just a "story idea", so if you like it, be sure to send some thanks to her (and read one of her amazing stories too!)

Now this *could* become a bigger, multi-chapter fic, but right now, it's a 2-part one-shot. But we'll see! It is *very* M-rated, and contains descriptions of blood, as well as somewhat "rough" sex and dialogue, so please keep that in mind if you find those things upsetting. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this little Halloween tale, and Happy Halloween S/T fandom!

Blood Enemies
by The Yankee Countess

(part one)

"Fangs"

It wasn't supposed to be like this…

They were enemies. Their kind had been enemies for…centuries, perhaps even millennia. Her kind were monsters, terrible blood-sucking demons that took pleasure in death and destruction…

And yet there was nothing "demonic" about her. Holding her as he did now, feeling her body move against his, her mouth hungrily responding to his own, urgent kiss…

How could he think of her like that? And perhaps more importantly…how could he bring himself to the task of doing what he had been sent to Downton to do?

"We're relying on you, Tom; we're all relying on you…" his brother had said to him, well over a year ago, when the Pack selected him to be their assassin. He understood this task to be important, and saw it as a great honor. After all, his sister had been seduced one of those blood suckers; seduced, before being enslaved and tortured for the "pleasure" of those demons, before madness drove her to leaping off a cliff, finally finding the freedom she had been denied, in death. He was only a lad when it happened, but the painful memories remained with him, from childhood to adulthood, and he could never erase the mournful howl his mother cried when news reached them about his sister's fate.

He hated them—all of them. And he wanted justice for his sister. So when the task was offered to him, he didn't waste any time in bowing his head in willing acceptance. He would take the year to study everything he could about his enemy, study and train and prepare himself for his new life at Downton Abbey, where he would serve the Crawleys, one of the oldest vampiric families in all of Britain. He would bide his time…and then when the moment was right…he would strike.

The assignment was simple: kill them all. Use whatever means necessary to do this…

But this had not been part of the plan.

"Tom…" she gasped, moaning against his mouth as their kiss intensified. She had only recently started to call him by his first name, and Lord help him, he loved hearing her say it, especially in that passionate way she had just spoken. He could hear the desire, the pleasure, and the plea in her voice. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. "Tom…please…" she whimpered, her hips lifting off the mattress to grind against his erection which was growing harder by the second.

He lifted his head from her throat which he had been nuzzling, gasping slightly at the sight that greeted him.

This was not their first night together. In truth, he had lost count of the number of trysts they had been conducting for the past few weeks, but even so, he was still not used to seeing her eyes glow red as her desire kindled.

She must have realized what had startled him, because she turned her face away, her lashes brushing her cheeks in a demure (and perhaps embarrassed) manner. "Sorry," she mumbled, and for a moment he wondered if she could, would she be blushing now?

He shook his head, and brought a hand to her cheek, encouraging her to turn back and face him. "Please don't be," he murmured, his fingers stroking her soft, alabaster cheek, marveling still at how warm her skin felt. When he had first held her in his arms, he had remarked on this, voicing his surprise that she wasn't…cold…like he thought she would be.

"Well, we absorb the heat of our…" she paused then and he knew what she was about to say: "prey". A bitter reminder to what she was…and why he had been sent there. But he pushed that thought aside, both then and now, and kissed her back once more, his tongue exploring the sweet depths of her mouth, while his body continued to move and grind against hers.

Sybil shivered against him, but he knew it wasn't because of the autumn cold. "It's impossible to feel the cold with you," she had giggled that first night, when he had felt her shiver and asked her if that was why. "With you, I don't know if I would even need a blanket." It was true; his body temperature was much higher than that of a human. No, her shiver, both then and now, was due to the same reason that was causing her eyes to glow red.

She wanted him.

"Tom…" he heard her moan as his mouth descended down her body, pushing her nightdress aside and running his tongue across her nipples. She gasped and arched her body off the bed, especially when he took a sweet bud between his teeth and gently tugged. "Tom…Tom please…"

"Please?" he echoed, his lips releasing her nipple and moving to the other one. "Please what, love?"

There were so many things he wanted to do, things they had done before where the mere thought kept him in a constant state of arousal. His mouth watered as he recalled the first time he had gone down—

"Umph!" Tom sputtered slightly as he looked up into his lover's glowing eyes, whose supernatural strength had pushed him back, before quickly straddling his thigh. A hiss escaped his lips as with a speed rivaled by no other creature, her hand reached into his trousers (which he still foolishly wore) and began to stroke his cock, making him even harder if that was possible. "Ffffffffffffffffuck…" he gasped, as he lay beneath her, completely at her mercy (and truly, not minding in the slightest).

She liked being in control, and she loved being on top. It was not a familiar position for him (despite all their talk about being 'forward' and 'progressive', werewolves could be extremely old fashioned when it came to matters of sex and who went where), but it didn't take long for him to quickly love it as well. Just…looking up at her…and seeing the pleasure on her face as she rode him, throwing her head back and gasping and moaning before crying out her release, her beautiful body perfectly arched and bare, the moonlight making her alabaster skin look like porcelain, and her breasts, round and bouncing and begging for his caress…

He reached up now to touch her, wanting to feel her fill his hands again, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything other than the ministrations her cool fingers were performing on his cock. Despite the warmth she had absorbed from being with him, her fingers still had a trace of that coolness, which in truth just seemed to make his blood run hotter.

"Now," he growled, feeling his release building to a pressure point. "Please—ahhh, Sybil, please!"

She smiled; like all vampires, she seemed to enjoy hearing her "prey" beg. But again, despite her family, despite her…kind…she wasn't like the monsters in the stories the Pack fed to him and other young wolves. She was far more angel than demon, something he had witnessed countless times since his arrival, from the sincere friendships she held with "outsiders" (her housemaid, for one, was a shifter, who were seen with just a little more regard than werewolves…barely), to her passionate arguments for equal rights between vampires and other creatures, both supernatural and human. She even argued against their bloody consumption!

"We devour too much!" she had argued with her grandmother. "There's no need for it! Especially when a simple pint of blood will sustain us for a week! And if we're careful, we don't even have to kill our prey!"

Her grandmother had muttered something about "nothing succeeds like excess", and Tom had to bite his tongue to keep himself from joining in Sybil's argument. That wouldn't do, of course. He was a spy, masquerading as a servant. That was a secret that not even Sybil was aware…

Tom swore as he felt the velvet softness of her tongue run over his length. He remembered the first time she had done that (surprising him completely, even to the point of startling him because all he could think about was that her sharp fangs were mere millimeters from his most vulnerable flesh) but any unease he had felt quickly dissipated into pleasured gasps, just as he was doing now as she tasted his cock.

He wasn't going to last. He was so close when she had been stroking him earlier with her hand, that a few more sweeps of her tongue and he knew he would be—

But it wasn't her tongue that finished him. Because the next thing he knew, she had speedily moved up and sank her body down, taking him deep inside her. The feel of her velvet-like core surrounding him was too much, and he threw his head back and roared his orgasm as his body shook and trembled from the intense pleasure.

Yet that didn't stop Sybil. With her hands pressed firmly on his chest for leverage, she began to move in earnest, bouncing and riding him, seeking her own pleasure which he could tell was mounting deeply within her. Tom brought his hand up, searching for the sweet bud at the apex of her core, smiling as he heard her gasp his name when his thumb began to stroke it. "Tom…TOM!" she cried, and the tremors of her orgasm were beginning to take hold.

He sat up then, nowhere moving as fast as she could, but the motion did surprise her, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, needing to hold her, feel her against his chest, wanting to kiss her as she came…

Their mouths fused together as their bodies continued to move, only ripping apart to allow them both to gasp and scream. He held her tightly as she trembled in his arms, whimpering his name over and over as the pleasure claimed her. Tom sighed and pressed his lips against her shoulder while resting his head there…Sybil doing the same against his. Making love to her was nothing like the clumsy mating romps of his past, none of which he had taken seriously or seen as anything more than what they were at the time. Like their animal counterparts, werewolves mated for life.

…Could one such as he mate with a vampire? Had it ever been done?

I can't believe you're even thinking about such things! But he was. He hadn't told her—neither of them had spoken the words—but their actions seemed to speak otherwise. He was in love with her…which made his job even more difficult.

No, not difficult; impossible.

"Ahh!" he hissed at the sharp sting at his neck.

Sybil's head, which had been buried there, suddenly whipped back, and her hand was covering her mouth, her eyes wide with horror and revulsion. "Oh Tom!" she gasped, her voice muffled behind her hand. "I'm so sorry! I…I didn't mean…" she hung her head then, trying to avoid his eyes as she attempted to disengage herself from his embrace, but he only tightened his arm around her, while his other hand was pressed against his neck, his fingers moving back to look down at what he suspected.

Blood. She had nipped him.

He looked back at her, and he saw tears pool in her eyes. She looked so ashamed, and her hands were still clamped over her mouth.

His heart swelled, and with a gentle hand, he coaxed her to lower her hands away from her lips…seeing the trickle of blood at the right corner of her mouth, as well as her fangs which were now extended.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured again, but Tom gently pressed his finger to her lips, before tenderly moving his thumb to the corner of her mouth…and wiping that small trickle up…before bringing his thumb to her lips.

If his brother could see him now, he would be screaming at him for this madness. But then his brother and all of the Pack elders would have been screaming at him for even being in the same bed with one of her kind, let alone offering her his own blood!

Sybil glanced at his thumb and then back at him, her eyes curious but also…aroused. The red glow was kindling once more, but it didn't frighten him, not when he saw the tenderness and…dare he hope, love, reflected there.

He held his breath as she drew his thumb between her lips…and licked the blood away.

He groaned and suddenly, he was seized by the strangest desire, one he never thought he would ever feel, but…he wanted to do this, he needed to do this.

He tilted his head to the side…offering his neck to her.

Sybil's eyes widened and she released his thumb. "No, Tom, you mustn't—"

"I trust you," he told her. And he did; that was why he needed to do this.

"You shouldn't," she protested, shaking her head. "I…the hunger, it's…it's difficult to control—"

His large hands held her face and he looked deeply into her eyes. "I…trust…you," he repeated slowly.

Her eyes went to his neck, and then back to him. He could see that she was tempted, and that she was fighting the temptation. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips, before sucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she internally debated his offer.

Say it; she needs to hear it and you need to tell her. "I love you…"

Her eyes went back to his, wide at the confession, though he hoped she was already aware about how deeply he cared for her.

She gazed at him a moment longer…and even though she didn't reply, he could see the love, the love he was so certain of seeing before, reflect back at him, and despite the slight nervousness he was feeling at this unorthodox offer, he did smile, and once again tilted his head to the side…

She moved quickly, so quickly he didn't even have time to gasp.

Her lips sealed against his neck, her tongue first running across the vein, dancing over his skin…and then he felt the sting again, like being burned as she sank her fangs into his neck, only the pain was brief…and his gasp soon became a moan of…what, exactly? Pleasure? No, but…but it wasn't unpleasant!

"Mmmmmm…" he heard her moan against his neck as he felt her suck the blood from his body. He tightened his arms around her, and he felt her nails dig into the broad flesh of his back, her legs wrapping around him once again, and then he gasped as he felt her…move.

He was still buried inside her, their bodies were still joined, and she began to move and thrust against him, squirming in his lap, needing more, seeking more as she continued to drink his blood.

His head was spinning, he felt dizzy, but he bared down and did his best to respond, lifting his hips and thrusting back, gasping at the intensity of it all. "Sybil…" he groaned, his hands sliding down her back to cup her arse, using his strength to push her even harder against him as he thrusted. She made a sound against his neck, what he thought might have been a moan of pleasure, but she did not lift her head, if anything, she growled and began to feed from him with abandon!

He bit his lip, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as he continued to thrust, hard and deep and fast, both of them needing quick release, and soon. He was panting, he felt the sweat sliding down his chest, and he imagined the marks he was leaving on her skin as his fingers pressed firmly into her arse, though he knew any bruises he left would be nothing compared to the scar she'd be leaving him.

"Fuck, Sybil—SYBIL!" he gasped as with just a few more strokes, his orgasm shook him, and he could feel it taking her too, feel the walls of her core tighten around him, before her own body began to tremble…and still, her mouth remained against his neck.

It wouldn't be the warrior's death his kind were brought up to revere, yet if he did die now, he couldn't imagine being happier.

He shuddered as he felt her fangs release him…and then trembled at the feel of her tongue, running along the puncture wounds, licking him clean, before finally…lifting her head away.

Her lips were coated with blood—his blood, and there was blood dripping down the corners of her mouth on both sides. Such a sight should be frightening, and yet…he wasn't.

I love her…

She lowered her eyes, the lashes demurely brushing her cheeks once more as she lifted the back of her hand to wipe away the excess. "I got a bit carried away," she confessed, though she didn't sound ashamed, just…bashful.

He couldn't help but smile, despite how tired he felt from being drained (in every sense). "I told you I trusted you," he murmured, lifting a hand to caress her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and then proceeded to coax him to lie back down on the bed, which he all too gladly did, before she snuggled into his embrace, her head finding that place where she always liked to rest, just over his heart.

"Thank you," she whispered in the dark.

Tom's eyes felt so heavy; he knew he would be falling asleep very soon, his body needing the rest to regain his strength. But he was still conscious enough to answer her, so he responded, "you're welcome?" though he wasn't exactly sure to what, exactly, she was thanking him for. For showing her that trust? For letting her drink his blood?

"For telling me that you love me…despite what I am," she explained, as if reading his thoughts.

His arms tightened around her. "What we are…" he answered. "…It doesn't matter." At least it shouldn't. According to the laws of both their kinds, they were blood enemies. But it had been quite some time when Tom stopped thinking of Lady Sybil Crawley as his enemy…and after tonight, began thinking of her as his mate.

"…I love you, too."

His eyes fluttered open at the sweet words. He turned his head slightly and looked at her; she was smiling up at him, and again, even though she couldn't, he could easily imagine her cheeks pinking with blush.

He lowered his head then and kissed her, softly, reverently, before leaning away and falling back against his pillow. Sybil sat up just a little so she could run her cool fingers across his fevered brow. "Sleep," she whispered. "When morning comes, you'll have your strength back."

He thought as much. But at the same time, he dreaded the morning light because he knew that when he awoke, she wouldn't be there. She would have retreated from his cottage, back to Downton, to the crypt below the Servant's Hall where the Crawleys rested during daylight hours and that was guarded by their faithful staff. Youth and beauty might forever be hers, but at the cost of never seeing the sun again? No, he would always see that as an unfortunate curse.

The last thought that came to his mind before sleep finally claimed him was the debate of whether or not to tell Sybil the entire truth about himself, not just the fact that he was a werewolf, which she knew and none of the others did, but…why he was there. He couldn't do it now; he had been "emotionally compromised". But even so…would she still murmur such sweet, loving words to him, if she knew everything about him? But what if he didn't tell her…and she found out?

Despite this internal debate he was having with himself, sleep did come. And he dreamt about Sybil, and how beautiful and rosy she looked, dancing and laughing in the sun.