An Interruption

By theanonymouslibrarians

Note: I do not own "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter" or any of its characters. Yes; this blatantly disregards certain events in "The Last American Vampire."

It was funny how quickly a nice day could turn into a nightmare. Abraham and Henry had been outside Henry's most recent cabin. They hadn't been training; this was a social visit and a much needed break for both of them. For Abraham, from a month of hunting more difficult prey than usual. For Henry, from several months of moving from place to place, with barely a moment's rest in between.

Henry had told me that he had sensed someone on his trail. Mostly he had no evidence for this other than a feeling. Personally, I had believed he was being paranoid. Certainly intuition had saved my life more times than I could count, yet I had dismissed Henry's actions as being overly cautious. How foolish of me.

The cabin they were at now hadn't undergone more than a few cursory changes. Henry didn't expect to stay there any longer than he had at the previous five, and so he didn't deem it worth the effort to transform it into a home.

Still, enough trees lent their shade to make it pleasant for Henry to sit out with Abraham on a sunny day, debating whether or not Hamlet was mad. The first hint that something was wrong that Abraham noticed was Henry's expression. One moment his friend was laughing at some trifling comment Abraham had made and the next his face took on a stricken look. In less than a second he was on his feet, tense as he would be if he were facing down an army, and searching the woods.

Abraham, who hadn't seen or heard anything, rose to his feet as well. "Henry, what's-"

"Go inside, Abraham."

"What-"

"Go inside, get your axe, and don't come out."

Abraham thought it wiser not to ask questions just then and turned to obey. Scarcely had he taken a few steps in the direction of the cabin, though, when there was movement to his right and he turned to see a stranger entering the clearing. The man was easily six feet tall, with dark hair falling to his shoulders. His face was pockmarked but wore a jovial smile. He was also very clearly a vampire.

"Well, hello. I was coming to-"

Before the man could finish, Henry had moved between them. "Abraham, why don't you go inside?" Henry said stiffly.

The newcomer tsked. "Now, now, Henry. Don't be rude! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine." He turned his gaze on Abraham. "Ab-ra-ham." The stranger stretched the name out as if he'd never heard it before. "Crowley. Thomas Crowley."

Abraham's eyes lit up in recognition and he had to fight to keep from glancing at Henry in confusion. He had always assumed that Henry had killed the vampire who had turned him. Now, though, he recalled Henry saying he'd only killed one vampire, and presumably that had been the old woman Henry had saved Abe from.

"Oh! I see Henry's told you all about me. I'm sorry to interrupt. But I was in the area and thought I'd drop in on an old friend." Crowley's eyes went back to Henry. "I didn't expect you to have company."

Henry didn't reply. Abe had never seen his friend like this.

I'd seen Henry worried, happy, angry, upset. But this was something else. His fangs were down, his hands clenched. His eyes recorded the stranger's every movement. His stance was one that he'd shown me several times before; he was preparing for an attack. But there was a slight tremor to Henry's limbs and when he spoke his voice held a tone that I had never heard in his voice before: it was absolute terror. And yet, despite this, my friend had clearly placed himself between me and the threat. I knew that if I, a human, had noticed these signs of fear, the strange vampire certainly had, and this, more than anything, convinced me that we were in danger.

"Abraham, go inside." Henry repeated.

This time, Crowley didn't move to stop Abraham. It didn't feel right leaving Henry alone. But Abe's axe was inside. All the human had was a pocket knife. He walked backwards, eyes never leaving Crowley. The vampire watched him go, an amused look in his eyes. When Abraham reached the doorway, he waved a hand, waggling the fingers in an almost condescending gesture.

Abraham could hear the conversation start up again as soon as he'd closed the door, but he couldn't make out what was being said. It didn't matter though. He had one thought in mind: to kill Crowley before the vampire could...what? The doctor had clearly put a lot of effort into tracking Henry down. Given the level of hatred and fear in Henry's eyes, Abraham couldn't believe that Crowley meant to leave peacefully.

Time was of the essence. Every moment Abraham spent in the cabin was a moment Henry was alone with that monster. It took every ounce of self-control, but Abraham moved slowly and quietly to where he kept his axe. He left the cabin through the back door, not closing it lest Crowley hear the sound and be alerted.

Abraham took a circuitous route through the woods, one that was longer than he would have liked, but which allowed him to approach the clearing with minimal noise. His place, behind an oak about ten yards from Crowley's back, wasn't ideal, but any closer and Abe wouldn't have had time to even lift his axe if Crowley came for him. He couldn't see Henry from here, but he could hear the conversation.

"...lonely. We were a family, Henry! I know it'll be hard on you, but you'll remember your place soon enough." Crowley cajoled.

There was something that could have been a bark of laughter or a sob. "You can't possibly think I'd go back with you. I thought I made that clear when we parted." This last bit was said almost smugly.

"Oh, yes." There was rancor in Crowley's voice now. "But there's no fire now. And I think that if anything these last few months have proven that you can't outrun me. So be a good boy, and make it easy on yourself. Come with me willingly. We can even bring your pet." With this he turned to where Abe was hiding, but in doing so he made a grave error.

I hadn't had much hope of sneaking up on him. He'd managed to get within yards of us before even Henry had noticed. What were the odds that he wouldn't hear or smell me before I could so much as bring my axe back? But he was alone while I had Henry.

The moment Crowley had turned, Henry was on him, claws out, slicing at the other vampire with a ferocity that Abraham had never seen before. Abe darted forward, axe lifted and ready to help whenever he got the chance. But the two were too closely intertwined. If he had tried to strike, Abe would have had just as much a chance of hitting Henry as he had of hitting Crowley.

Crowley fought back, slamming Henry's back into a tree and causing it to splinter and fall backward from the impact, but Henry clung to him, claws and fangs digging into his skin every time it felt like Crowley was getting loose and making new wounds all the while. When at last the vampires were still enough that Abe could have intervened, Crowley lay on his back, Henry kneeling over him. Slowly Abraham approached, tensed and ready in case the two's positions were suddenly reversed. But Crowley's limbs looked like they were shattered. Henry's claws were sunk into the other vampire's abdomen, keeping him impaled to the ground.

I lifted my ax, ready to finally be of some assistance, ready to end the life of the thing that had caused so much pain to my friend, had dared to make Henry feel fear, but Henry shook his head.

"No, Abraham." His eyes stayed locked on Crowley's. The other gazed up at him in hatred. "Go make a fire."

Now, it was in Crowley's eyes that I saw fear. Any form of bravado was gone, and he tried to rise, but Henry slashed him across the face and he lay still. I was worried I'd find them locked in combat again when I returned, but they were in much the same place.

When Abraham got back, Crowley's legs had been torn off, presumably to make it easier to kill the vampire, but Abe thought Henry looked more than a bit satisfied at the other vampire's groans. When Abraham approached, Henry rose to his feet, hauling the other vampire up as well. He dragged Crowley towards the flames. The older vampire struggled, weak as he was, but even he knew he wasn't strong enough to escape. He pleaded.

"Henry, I made you! I saved you! If it weren't for me, you and V-" But by this time they had reached the fire, and Henry clearly wasn't interested in hearing anything more from his maker. He threw the other vampire into the flames.

Even though Abe had expected it, he flinched at the pitiless gesture and at the unearthly howl emerging from the flames. The figure writhed in the fire, but when it tried to drag itself out, Henry aimed a kick at it, driving it backward. It didn't take long for the vampire's struggles weaken. When it became clear that there was no risk of Crowley emerging, Henry took a step back from the flames and stood next to Abraham. After a while, the two sat down on the grass, both watching and listening until the groans had died down and the fire had burnt itself out. It was hours before either one spoke. Henry stared at the spot where Crowley's ashes were, but his eyes were far away. Abraham, for his part, watched his friend.

A range of emotions flickered across Henry's face in those hours. Rage, fear, despair. A couple of times, I saw his body shake, his face screwed up as if he was crying, although no tears came out. I knew he was reliving memories he'd tried to forget. To outrun. I wasn't sure what to do. Henry was a guarded person. In all the time I'd been with him, I'd always gotten the impression that he'd only ever let me see what he'd wanted me to see. But now, I wasn't sure if Henry even remembered I was there. Would he welcome an attempt at comfort? Or would that embarrass him?

Eventually, concern for his friend won out. "Henry..." Henry started at Abe's voice, and he looked at him with a blank expression. "What did he do to you, Henry?"

At first, Abraham wasn't sure Henry would reply. He stared at Abe, and there was panic there, as if he thought Abraham would accuse him of something or wouldn't understand. But finally, Henry looked away and gave what was something between a laugh and a sob. "What didn't he do?"