Author's Note: Okay. First SPN multi-chapter here, folks, let's hope I can keep on a more regular update schedule than I usually do with my Coldfire fics. I make no promises, though - which is why I usually write oneshots these days, but never mind. This spawned from a lovely piece of fanart that LuciferianRising posted on DeviantArt for Samifer Week 2013; I fangirled over the art, agreed that it was a crying shame there wasn't already a vampire!AU for this couple, then promptly found myself plagued by plot bunnies and offered to write it. Well, here it is! This is just the first chapter, so it's kind of short, but to make up for that I'm also posting the second chapter on the same day. Third chapter will be up shortly thereafter, but that's the one with the smut, so it's taking a bit longer to finish. Never fear, though, smut is on the way!

Warnings: Vampires, blood, sex, and all the other delightful things that accompany - a), a SPN fic - or b), a vampire fic - or c), both. Slash, in particular, abounds. That falls into Category A, by the way, I just thought I'd mention that one in particular in case some poor unfortunate soul was new to the fandom and didn't realize that, like, 90% of the fics are slash.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Yet. Someday... *evil laughter*

A.N.2: Title is that of a song by Corvus Corax, a delightful German Neo-Pagan-Folk band. The lyrics are a delicious blend of Romanian and Latin, and given that I'm writing a vampire!AU I just couldn't resist; the song is heavily implied to itself be about vampires, and let's face it, Romanian is a very sexy language if you ask me. It was perfect. In case anyone was wondering, the title is Latin for 'A Thousand Years Have Passed'.

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Some might say that this story began on a warm summer's night in 2007, in a smoky bar in Norfolk, Nebraska. That it began when a young man walked in with his brother, when they sat down at the bar and ordered drinks, when they lowered their guard ever so slightly because the monsters they'd come to hunt were gone and they thought their job was done. That wasn't the case, though.

It began so much earlier than that.

It began in the year 1095, when the first Crusade took place. It began with a young man named Lucian Morgenstern, young and idealistic and full of fire, his heart brimming with faith in God and his fellow men and his blood singing with the anticipation of battle's glory. This young man had set out with thousands of his brothers-in-arms, the banner of the Church flying proudly overhead as they set out to reclaim the Holy Land from the infidels who had stolen it. His faith had borne him over mountains and across deserts, through freezing cold and blistering heat, to the very edge of the Holy Land itself - and it was only as he lay in the dust of the battlefield, his horse's ruined corpse growing cold beside him as he coughed the scarlet of his lifeblood onto the dry ground, that Lucian questioned God.

In their final moments, as they feel their grasp on life beginning to slip away, many men will question the God they believed would watch over and protect them. For some, this moment passes, and they slip quietly away to their eternal rest. Others are not so fortunate.

From the corner of his darkening vision, a strange man had appeared to Lucian. Gazing down at the dying man through eyes as black as the depths of night, this man offered him a deal; a new lease on life, a chance to survive this deadly wound, in exchange for one little favor. Terrified of the abyss now looming before him, Lucian agreed - then, with a touch, the man healed him of his wounds and whisked him away to an ancient castle, high in the peaks of a lonely mountain range Lucian had never seen before.

Within the echoing halls of that castle, Lucian and a dozen other men from all parts of the world were given wine to drink; wine, and something else within the wine, something far more sinister. A change had overcome them, and they had sunk to the ground in agony, claimed by a blackness not unlike that of death until the sound of voices woke them.

The black-eyed man had returned, and with him came another man, one with eyes that burned yellow like dark, diseased suns. Their words burned themselves into the mind of each of the dozen men who lay weakened and disoriented on the stone floor of the hall.

"Did it work?" the yellow-eyed man asked.

"Yes, my Lord." the other replied, with a deep, subservient bow. "The venom was highly successful - they are now the undead, stronger than any mortal could dream of and ever hungry for the taste of life."

"Excellent." The yellow-eyed man walked forward, studying the half-conscious forms closely; reaching one, he kicked out lightly, boot catching the ribs of the blond man before him. "You."

Lucian opened his eyes and hissed against the pain of the faint torchlight, squinting up at the yellow-eyed man in agony. "What have you done to me?" he rasped, feeling a burning in his throat as though he had not had a sip of water for days, despite the goblet of wine he had drunk only a short time ago. The yellow-eyed man laughed.

"I've made you a god." he said, lips curling in a triumphant sneer.

Soon, the dozen men regained their strength and equilibrium, and it was with mounting horror that they discovered what had been done to them. The yellow-eyed man, and his black-eyed servant, were demons - they had poisoned the men with a strange and powerful venom, one that had stopped their hearts forever only to raise them again as the living dead. They were strong now, stronger than anything alive could ever be; they were dangerous, too, with deadly fangs that slid from their gums to pierce their prey and wills strong enough that a mere glance into their victim's eyes would leave the chosen subject trembling and powerless before them. Humans were brought to the castle, and the newborn monsters who had once been proud men of battle and of faith were helpless but to sate their hunger; soon, however, the demons showed their discontent. It seemed that they had been seeking to create not only powerful tools, but creatures who would be driven to true mindlessness by their hunger. The men they had changed were powerful, and driven greatly by their bloodlust, but they retained their human minds - and they had weaknesses, quailing before the threat of a stake, repelled by garlic and screaming at the barest touch of sunlight. Disappointed, the demons made a cruel decision.

Lucian saw the signs first. He tried to warn his brethren, but it was too late; the demons returned that night, and 'put an end' to their experiments. They slaughtered the things they had created, all but one - for, in the heat of the battle as the twelve other creatures fought to defend themselves and the demons cut them down, the thirteenth managed to escape. Lucian overpowered the guard who had been left at the door and fled through the castle, leaping out a window and scaling the sheer wall to the ground. He then vanished into the woodland without a trace; the demons hunted for him, but he could not be found, and eventually the demons dismissed the matter and returned to their own dark lairs. There would be other experiments, other trials; the results must be improved, the infectious strain perfected. One day, their efforts would result in a terrible virus known as Croatoan - and, in their search for success, they did not bother to dwell on the possible repercussions of their first subject's escape.

Lucian Morgenstern had died that night in the Romanian mountains, and something far different escaped that lonely castle. Though he retained the mind and memories of a human, Lucian knew he was now anything but - and so, he shed his old name and life like a discarded skin. He wove himself a new name, one born from the remnants of the old, and he set out to travel the world and see it through his new, keen, nightbound eyes. One day, he would create others of his kind, and along the way his legend would grow until the mere mention of him could make the strongest of men shiver in dread.

From that day forward, he called himself Lucifer.

Others would call him vampyr.