Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Twilight. The show, the movie saga and the majority of the characters I'll be using belong to their respective creators.
A/N: ATTENTION PLEASE! I am bringing a couple of changes into the rule book of the Twilight-kind vampires: in this story, they will be able to sleep (not the daylight-only coma-like sleep of True Blood vamps) although it won't be a necessity – they can kick it aside if circumstances call for that, and they'll be able to dream (however, other vamps won't be able to crash their la la land vacay ala vampire diaries style). Why? Well, for one – because I can. Two: because seriously? They are immortal – they can do practically anything…except sleep. I mean, WTF? Even fuckin' bacteria needs to zonk out from time to time… (okay, so maybe it doesn't, but that's totally besides the point…)
Previously:
Purgatory – 2012
Dean could only stare at the slowly retreating figure of the southern vampire, grumbling under his breath as he desperately tried to come up with a smart-assed comeback to throw at the infuriating vamps back and the vampire in question – feeling the emotional turmoil brewing within the human – smirked, his tall frame shaking with laughter as he continued to put distance between himself and the hunter.
''Son of a bitch!'', Dean swore loudly when a few seconds later his ears picked up on the sound of numerous growls approaching his location and he knew – he knew that if he wanted to get out of this place and get back to Sammy – preferably alive – he should…ally himself with someone strong enough to help him accomplish that. So, with that particular thought playing in his mind on a loop, Dean sucked in a deep breath, his eyes closing of their own volition: ''…wait!''
Purgatory – 2012
Dean's vividly green eyes closed as soon as Jasper set him down, his world once again spinning and shifting as his equilibrium worked slowly on righting itself. Swaying on his feet, his right arm outstretched to the side, the hunter groaned as he frantically grasped at empty air in his search for something to hold onto.
''God dammit'', he groused, ''I friggin' hate you, you know that? Friggin' blood sucking asshole…''
Amused, Jasper chuckled and gently grasped the still grumbling man's shoulder, carefully steadying him while his keen eyes scanned the familiar surroundings of the clearing they now found themselves in and the rickety shelter he had built years ago still standing just off to the side.
His sharp senses prickled sharply not a second later as he gazed at the hand-built hut he called home as they again picked up on the sound of multiple howls and snarls nearing their location.
Sighing, he led Dean towards the bank of the creek where the helter-skelter hut stood. ''Here'', he started, swiftly removing his plaid button-down shirt and holding it out to the human, ''…put this on, we're about to have company.''
Dean stared at the garment hanging loosely off of the fingers of the vampire's outstretched arm, his brows furrowing. ''I'm fine. I don't need it'', he responded, his voice gruff.
The honey-blonde haired cold-one rolled his eyes. ''I know you're not cold. It's to mask your distinctly human scent, you jackass. Now put it on!''
The green eyed human glared fiercely at the pale figure standing in front of him, not willing to give in to the vampire's command even if it was for his own good. Precious seconds ticked by; Dean didn't budge – if anything, his glare only intensified. Jasper didn't budge either; he simply cocked a challenging eyebrow as if to say 'I can do this all night – longer if I have to…'
Letting loose a growl of his own, the hunter gritted his teeth and swiftly ripped the garment out of the maddeningly annoying vampire's hold while the vampire in question had to work really hard to keep himself from laughing as the human man hastily pulled the shirt on all the while cursing under his breath.
''There! You satisfied now?'', Dean groused once done, his fingers tugging at the shirts lapels none too gently in a show of petulance.
''Yes'', Jasper answered turning away from him to stare intently at the treeline.
Huffing, the hunter let his hands come to rest at his sides. ''What now?''
The fair-haired vampire kept silent for a while as his keen sapphire-blue gaze remained fixed firmly on the woods, still scanning the heavily shadowed treeline for the threat he could hear approaching. However, as the antsy human continued to fidget in his restlessness, the former Major of the Southern Vampire Wars slowly turned to face him: ''they're almost here.''
Not for the first time that day Dean swore, ''shit!'', then huffed out a breath, ''…I repeat – what now?''
''Now'', Jasper started, gently grasping Dean's upper right arm, ''…you'', he continued as he made the hunter turn around and face the stream, ''…will go in there'', he pointed out the rickety shack at the riverbank, ''…and stay quiet while I go remind those beasties out there why they should stay the hell off my land.''
Dean scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest: ''your land?'', he questioned, disbelief coloring his tone, ''…dude, we're in Purgatory – it's no one's land.''
Jasper smirked. ''That might be so but this clearing IS my land – has been for decades and the remains of old carcasses, guts and what not at the treeline is more than a clear sign of the boundary lines that are not to be crossed by anyone but me…unless invited. However, those assholes out there – in their crazed race to sink their teeth into some of the 'fresh meat' have clearly forgotten all about it so…'', he met the hunter's wide-eyed gaze, the smirk changing into a grin when he noticed the man had turned slightly green around the proverbial gills, ''…you be a good little human now and go inside'', the vampire continued to urge as he gently shoved Dean towards the hut to get him moving, ''…and I'll take care of those half-wits over there.''
Physically shaking off the disgust the flaxen-haired man's speech elicited, Dean scoffed huffily and then grumbled: ''sure, fine – I'll just go play Whitney Houston to your Kevin Costner…but only this once, you ass!'', as he made his way towards the vampire's lair.
Thoroughly confused, Jasper frowned. ''My Ke – what?''
Dean stopped a few steps short of entering the creaky hut before glancing back at the blonde vampire over his shoulder – seeing the utterly confounded look twisting his face the hunter sighed: ''never mind, dude. Never mind…Just try not to get yourself killed 'cause I'll need you if I'm to make my way outta this hell-hole…and you kinda offered to help so, yeah…''
A cocky smirk tugged at the left side of Jasper's mouth: ''oh, but it's not me you should worry about'', he quipped self-assuredly.
The human man simply rolled his eyes as the vampire turned on his heel and started towards the treeline, his steps a little rushed yet graceful none-the-less.
It had been ten minutes since the unbearable, ear-splittingly loud screeching stopped, once again immersing the quaint clearing in absolute silence which – unlike before the blonde vampire rushed off to reaffirm his lordship over this particular stretch of land and the human man now residing on it – was driving Dean insane with worry because 'what if the beasties overwhelmed his blood sucking knight in shining armour? What if he's seriously injured? What if–'
''Eh, screw this…'', the hunter muttered and hastily made his way outside, his sharp green eyes straying straight for the treeline only to release the breath he didn't even know he was holding as he noticed the pale blonde-haired figure heading his way, his arms laden with firewood.
However, as the tall figure of the southern vampire drew closer, Dean couldn't keep the sudden nausea from washing over him like a tidal wave – it sure has been a long, long while since he's seen something so gruesome; the previously clean, blonde, chin-length curls were now disheveled and matted with streaks of dark red, the pale skin of his face and neck as well as the old-timey off-white, long-sleeved undershirt – the sleeves rolled up to just above his elbows – he wore underneath the plaid shirt he'd handed over to Dean earlier was too speckled with fresh blood…and fur and only God knows what else. What once was a nice pair of simple, everyday slacks were also sporting a couple of new rips and lastly – his hands and arms…they were covered in red. Covered in so much red – right up to his elbows – in fact, it seemed as though the vampire had stayed in the now sinisterly quiet and ever dark woods long after he was done with Dean's persecutors to play the role of a crazed scientist trying to assemble his very own twisted version of a Frankenstein.
Slowly exhaling through his mouth, Dean forced himself to swallow down the rising bile before he could throw up just as the blood soaked blonde stopped a couple of feet away from him, crouching down to deposit the pile of firewood he carried back onto the ground.
''Well, you look…positively horror film crazy psychopath-esque. I take it the growlies have been dealt with? Since, you know, you're still in one piece…if slightly more…bloodier.''
Sighing, Jasper stood up and glanced down at his red covered hands before settling his gaze back on the human in front of him: the man seemed to be much too pale as he stared transfixed at Jasper's arms and fresh blood streaked clothes with wide eyes.
''Hey, you alright there?'', he asked worriedly when the hunter swayed a little a second later.
Dean sucked in a sharp breath of fresh air and quickly nodded his head affirmatively, ''…yes. Yeah, I'm fine.''
The vampire however, wasn't buying his cheap-ass act and so, when a moment later he awarded the oldest remaining Winchester with a look that said: 'yeah, right…', Dean stopped breathing all together because 'that right there, is a friggin' copy of Samantha's patented bitch face' and 'Oh God, Sammy…' and now he felt like crying but 'Winchester's don't do chick-flick moments. Suck it up, boy!' so…
Dean cleared his throat: ''no really. I'm fine. It's just…uh, been a while since the last time I've seen someone covered in that much blood.'' And then he cringed because left unsaid was 'yeah, 'cause the last time you saw someone covered in that much blood was when you were being ripped apart by Lilith's hell bitches…'
Nevertheless, understanding filled Jasper's sapphire-blue orbs and he nodded. ''I see. Well, why don't you set up the wood and I'll…'', he gestured towards the creek with his hand even as he already started walking towards it.
Dean nodded right back, ''yeah, sure.''
''So, what do I call you?'', Jasper inquired in a low voice so as not to startle the hunter sitting by the fire, wordlessly staring at the dancing flames, seemingly lost in his thoughts.
Dean's head snapped up to face him at the sound of the quietly mumbled words, confusion flickering in his vibrantly green eyes for a brief moment before he seemed to finally ground himself in the here and now: ''huh?''
''What's your name?'', Jasper asked again as he worked on wringing out the previously heavily blood stained undershirt he had just washed to the best of his capability in the icy-cold waters of the creek, ''…of course, you don't have to tell me…that is, if you enjoy being referred to as human or jackass...it's up to you really. Because I, for one, don't at all mind calling you by whatever name comes to me first…''
Dean snorted. ''Oh, I bet you don't…''
Jasper grinned at the hunter's retort as he pulled the wet shirt over his head and down his chest. The wet piece of clothing felt uncomfortable clinging to his skin the way it did but it's not like he would feel cold or could get sick because of it, although once he sat down he still moved infinitesimally closer to the fire to help the garment dry.
Carefully observing the vampire's every move from the very corner of his eye, Dean sighed. 'Eh, looks like I'll be stuck here for a while. Might as well…' Clearing his throat to catch the other man's attention, he turned his head towards the blonde on his left. ''Dean. I'm Dean…Winchester.''
Jasper's eyes slowly sought out Dean's and when he found them, he smiled. ''Well, Dean Winchester. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.''
Dean rolled his eyes at the vampire's use of old-timey language. ''Seriously, dude? Come on.''
Jasper chuckled and extended his hand out for a shake: ''Whitlock. Jasper Whitlock.''
Throwing caution to the wind because hey 'the man – okay. So more like a blood sucking vamp-man – has offered him help getting outta here…' , he grasped the pale hand in his own and shook it. However, that's when it hit him and wide-eyed, he froze. ''Wait. Did you say Whitlock? Jasper Whitlock?''
Startled the blonde vampire too froze at the human's sudden change in behavior. ''Yes. Why?'', he asked wearily, not quite understanding what his name had to do with anything as he carefully extracted his hand from Dean's grasp.
''…as in Major Jasper Whitlock? A Confederate soldier of the American Civil War, circa 1863?'', the human continued on, his excitement mounting.
''Uh…yes?'', Jasper answered although it came out sounding more like an unsure question.
''Dude…dude!'', the human jumped up from his less then comfortable perch on the ground and started pacing, ''oh man!'', and just as suddenly he started laughing.
The vampire's eyebrows rose and then his eyes narrowed the slightest bit into an expression that screamed 'are you feeling alright?' and in hindsight it was quite rude… however, that seemed to snap the hunter out of…well, whatever kind of an episode that was as he immediately cleared his throat and launched into an explanation: ''it's just…uh, my dad? He…well, he was military himself and you were kind of…'', Dean shrugged his shoulders, ''…I don't know…his idol?''
Jasper's lips quirked up with amusement. ''Were I now?''
''Dude, totally. If only he were still alive, the bastard, and here? He'd be totally fan-girling over you…''
''Fan-girling?'', Jasper inquired, eyes twinkling with merriment.
Dean closed his eyes and groaned. ''Don't. Ask – sooo embarrassing…''
That night, as Dean continued to regale him with stories of his life, the blonde empath laughed like he hadn't in decades.
Charlotte Whitlock: Thompson Falls, Montana – Present Day
The reflection of tired ruby-red eyes set in a beautifully sculpted pale face stared back at her from the full-length mirror she stood in front of, listlessly braiding her still damp wavy blonde locks, a quiet sniffle escaping her full, pouty lips now and again when the burn of the venom gathered at the corners of her eyes became too much to bear: God! some days – much like today – she really wished she could still cry, wished so greatly she could still free herself from the black hole of desperation churning and swirling so viciously within her via the most simplest and natural of ways so many – humans especially so – took for granted, because Peter…
Oh, God. My Pete…
She swallowed down the sob clawing at the inside of her throat and sighed. Yeah, her life sucks ass – has for decades now but today…Jesus H. Christ; it was gonna be another one of those days, where the love of her life – or unlife, if you prefer – is barely functioning again…and here she thought he was finally getting better, but no – that wasn't to be, she realized as she continued staring at her own reflection unseeingly, memories of the last few days returning with a vengeance…
Two days ago…
One of Peter's – and later in life Charlotte's too – old contacts, Garrett, had called saying he had information on Maria's whereabouts which, naturally, had the blonde vampire just about tingling with anticipation as she waited for the man in question at a seedy bar in Idaho a day later even as her thoughts wouldn't stop churning worriedly over her mate's refusal to join her on the little trip.
Peter, of course, had tried to put her mind at ease, saying he was only staying behind because he had things to do. That flimsy explanation didn't help whatsoever as she had a sneaking suspicion that her beloved was – to put it simply – full of horseshit.
However, he wouldn't cave no matter how hard she pushed and so, here she was: sitting daintily on a rickety wooden stool in a smoky bar filled to the brim with just the right variety of scumbag the two remaining Whitlock's preferred for a late evening dinner, her professionally manicured nails drumming anxiously on the over-polished wooden bar top.
A second later, someone poked her in the shoulder from behind.
Turning around just slightly faster than what's considered normal for a human, Charlotte was ready to read the asshole who dared to do so the riot act however, that turned out to be not necessary when she came face to face with a grinning Garrett. ''Heh, fancy meeting you here, Whitlock…'', the red-eyed vampire quipped in greeting, his grin only growing in width and brightness with every passing second.
Charlotte rolled her eyes – fondly so – before standing up. ''Cut the bullshit, Gar'', she retorted easily as she hugged the man she hadn't seen for a couple of decades now, ''…come on, old man. Lay it on me – what've you got?''
Garrett chuckled: ''straight to the point I see. Oh well, Sugar…as you wish'', he drawled slowly as he bowed from the waist down.
Charlotte scoffed playfully as he straightened out, still grinning. ''Well, the word on the street is that the old coot's in New Orleans'', he started, ''I'd have checked the lead out myself before call-''
Garrett fell silent mid-explanation when, unexpectedly, Charlotte's cell started ringing.
Frowning, the blonde vampire quickly fished the device out of her jeans pocket, giving only a cursory glance at the caller ID before answering: ''Rose? Is everything alright?''
''Yes'', came the short reply, ''…you asked to be informed if we found out anything new so I am only calling to tell you that a few days ago, Carlisle received word of two locations, both of which Maria was rumored to be at – some small town in North-eastern Germany and New Orleans.''
''Okay…'', Charlotte drawled out slowly as Garrett raised an eyebrow, waiting just as impatiently for the other shoe to drop.
''Well…'', Rose continued with a tired sigh, ''…Edward, Alice and Emmett are still chasing their lead in Germany. However, the New Orleans one was a bust…''
''Bollocks…'', Garrett swore under his breath as Charlotte's shoulders slumped.
''Are you absolutely sure, Rose?'', she asked in a tired voice.
The Cullen girl was silent for a brief moment and then answered, sounding beyond exhausted herself: ''yes. We've swept the French Quarter for the better part of the afternoon and then well into the night – nothing. There was no sign at all that she'd so much as passed through here…''
Charlotte didn't know what to say, so she remained quiet.
''Look'', Rose started a few seconds later, ''…our flight back to Seattle is starting to board, I have to go but…I'll call you if I hear anything new, okay?''
With a small nod of her head, which the other female couldn't see anyways, Charlotte agreed: ''…alright. I'll do the same. Bye Rose.'' Not waiting for an answer of any kind, she terminated the call looking up just in time to see Garrett wince. ''I'm sorry, Sug. I was so sure that this lead would finally get you and Pete somewhere…''
Charlotte smiled sadly. ''Don't worry. It's not your fault, Gar.''
And it wasn't – the Mexican whore was always so very cunning – so it didn't come as much of a surprise to learn that the vicious, lying bitch had once again been spreading rumors about herself…and she told Garrett as much.
''Yes. But still…'', he continued, feeling guilty for dragging the blonde all the way out here only for his lead to be blown to smithereens by one little phone call.
Charlotte only shook her head as she playfully fist-bumped his right shoulder. ''Don't worry so much, worrywart, or you'll get wrinkles on that pretty face of yours…''
The red-eyed male rolled his eyes dramatically. ''Hush woman…'', he chastised, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
Charlotte laughed and turned on her heel, ''…thanks for your help and until next time, Gar'', she uttered quietly, already half way to the door.
As soon as she stepped through the door and into her home, her senses were assaulted with the thick, coppery smell of blood – at least a day old, judging by the now somewhat pungent odor…
Her small – like grandmother liked to call it when she was still alive, bless that woman – 'button nose' wrinkled in disgust as she decided to follow the smell to its source, gasping as soon as she crossed over the neat, stylishly decorated living room and into the small kitchen – which was the place where the god-awful stench was emanating from.
Peter was there, kneeling in a puddle of blood gone bad and shards of a broken ceramic mug. His eyes were squeezed shut tight as he knelled there, trembling and muttering incomprehensibly under his breath, his hands over his ears as though trying to block out something only he could hear.
Unbidden, a strangled cry escaped her as she rushed to her mates side, falling to her knees right beside him without so much as sparing a half of a thought towards the jeans – her favorite pair – she was wearing as in that moment, no scrap of clothing mattered; nothing did. Nothing but Peter – her Petey, her husband, her soul mate…her everything.
Gently laying a hand on his shoulder, she whispered his name, her voice trembling with raw emotion, ''…Pete'', but there was no response so she tried again, her voice rising in her desperation as she quickly scooted over behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her face pressed in-between his shoulder blades. ''Baby, please. Come back to me…''
She sniffled as she received no response, her petite frame quaking with the force of her tearless sobs a second later when her cajoling once again garnered no reaction.
She knew though – from previous experience – that it was for the best to leave him be until he snapped out of it but she couldn't do it; she couldn't just leave him to suffer like this, reliving the single worst day of their shared existence over and over again…she couldn't –
The sudden loud ringing of her cell phone pulled her out of her thoughts with a startled gasp and for a second there, Charlotte couldn't do much more than stare at her own reflection in the full-length mirror, tired ruby-red eyes staring back at her when her ever-active brain caught up with the here and now and she darted towards the couch where Peter now slept, having freed himself from the trap his own mind had pulled him into not a couple of hours earlier – which was something the blonde vampire was overjoyed with, seeing as how his episodes tended to last for days sometimes – and the coffee table right next to it, where she had left the cell phone soon after making sure the light of her existence was finally resting so she could take a quick shower.
Reaching the table in record speed, she grabbed up the device and quickly pressed answer, not bothering this time to check the caller ID in her haste to quieten the infernal device: ''hello'', she whispered, the device in question now pressed firmly to her ear.
''Charlotte'', greeted the all too familiar voice of Carlisle Cullen, ''…is Peter around? I have something important you two need to hear.''
The younger vampire perked up at that, the enthusiasm and…sheer happiness of the older vampire surprising and igniting her curiosity in equal parts. ''Oh well, I'm afraid to tell you that Peter just had one of his episodes, as you call them Doc, and is now sleeping it off…But do tell, I'll relay it to him once he is awake…''
Carlisle sighed. ''I am so sorry to hear that, my dear'', the vampire physician began then sighed once more, ''…but maybe it would be better if you two would just come to Forks for this as I am almost certain you will not believe me if I'll tell you over the phone. I think you need to see this for yourself…''
Feeling somewhat exasperated, Charlotte heaved a heavy sigh of her own, knowing very well that continued attempts at fishing for further information won't work – the man truly was too stubborn to give anything away once he made up his mind so with that in mind, she answered: ''…very well, Carlisle. ''
And although she couldn't see the man at this particular moment in time, she was almost certain he was smiling when he spoke again: ''how soon can you get here?''
Dean: 100-Mile Wilderness, Maine – Present Day
The almost absolute stillness and quietness of the early predawn morning, somewhere deep in the still dark Maine woods was disturbed by a sudden white noise, followed quickly by a blinding light erupting from seemingly nowhere.
As it slowly but surely dissipated, the woods were once more shrouded in darkness and had it not been for the man left standing where the light had been but a few seconds earlier, nobody would have ever guessed that anything unnatural had taken place there.
As it was – the man – his clothes not much more than rags now, where covered in so much dirt and blood and…whatever else it was that he was covered in, kept very still as he tried to rein in his heavy labored breaths, his wide eyes scanning every inch of the forest around him for the slightest sign of a threat.
However, when he didn't seem to find one, his tense shoulders relaxed and he raised his left arm up then quickly outstretched the limb in front of himself, before slowly and carefully rolling up the sleeve of what once surely was a quite nice-looking denim jacket to reveal the skin of his strangely glowing forearm with some trepidation.
''God, I hope this works…'', he muttered under his breath as he raised his other arm and settled it just above the swirling glow, a wickedly sharp hunter's blade clutched tightly in its fingers.
Steeling himself with an intake of a deep breath, the disheveled man grimaced as he made a deep incision in his skin, his teeth gritted to keep from cursing out loud and as soon as he unceremoniously dropped the blade, a brilliant golden liquid leaked out of the incision, sluggishly rolling down the man's forearm to dribble and collect into a little pool at his feet.
He stared unblinkingly, his undivided attention on the golden liquid still swirling hypnotically at his feet as he waited for something – anything – to happen…and when a good minute later the liquid changed into golden dust and slowly rose up into the air, the man's face lit up with a joyful grin.
''Well I'll be damned'', he muttered, watching as it lazily swirled around him before suddenly starting to climb higher and higher, gradually disappearing from his view. ''I hope I'll see you again one day, you bastard…maybe sooner than you thought…and maybe I won't so until then, rest in peace J.''
