Living Inside Yesterday
We don't own Van Helsing, Hellboy, X-men, BtVS, or The Nightstalkers. Such is life.
Author: There are a few of us working this rather ambitious project so we've decided to just call it an 'Elf, Glam, and Star Production'.
Pairing: We have some things planned, of the Slash and Het nature, but plans have this tendency of not meaning shit so we'll see what develops.
Summery: An ancient evil has made it's way back and the only things in its way are a cigar smoking demon, an amnesic slayer, a re-born monk, two mutants, and a handful of humans in over their heads.
Notes: On the upside this isn't one of those 'no definable end' type of stories. On the downside it could be a long one with potential to…you know, be more than what it presently is. Again, we'll have to see what develops. We had considered tossing Constantine in, but most of us…you know, didn't like it.
Warnings: Homosexual activity, potentially of the graphic nature, foul language, violence, death, blood, gore, Catholic bashing (mind you, three of us are Catholic but whatever…) mix of comic and movie cannon, reincarnation, Magick (with a K, for the record) and…stuff.
Characters: Blade-Trinity: Abby Whistler, Hannibal King, and Dracula.
Van Helsing: Gabriel Van Helsing (Kind of), Carl (Kind of), and Dracula
BtVS: Xander Harris and Andrew Wells
Hellboy: John Meyers, Liz (Sparky), Hellboy (Red), and Abe (Blue)
X-men: Logan (Wolverine) Scott Summers (Cyclops) and St. John (Pyro)
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Chapter One
Paper Flowers
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The blood flowed, thick and slippery over his fingers like oil, staining his skin and dribbling into the snow, creating tiny caverns were it hit and sank to the ground. Blond hair fanned over disturbingly pale skin, gray and waxy already, and where he could once feel a heartbeat he felt nothing…heard nothing.
Smelt the death as it began to sink in and take hold. It was already chasing away the scent of sweat, wood, and wax he'd come to associate the other man with.
"So sad." His tormenter breathed out, mirth dancing in his eyes. "It's a shame you weren't here to see it though; he faced death better than most. No crying or begging. It was almost disappointing after all of the screaming I made him do. It had to happen sooner or later though; you just can't turn Holy Men into Hunters."
The blood stopped now, the body having run out. He put a hand over glassy eyes and moved the lids down, noting numbly that he left smears of red behind. The red seemed to expand, encompassing everything until that was all there was. Red. It was all…red. He could feel the rage, hot and furious, uncurling in his stomach and releasing something he'd kept safely tucked away inside for almost a decade. The rage feed it, gave it life once again.
He felt, dimly, his body changing as his mind retreated, buried deep inside. The world exploded into smell and sound; animals and plants and death and…
Death. Blood. Cold body.
"Well, if your little moment of mourning is done do you suppose we can-"
He never finished his statement. He was against the tree, one hand around his neck, gagging loudly. He squeezed, nose filing with the sour scent of terror before the sound of bones crunching met his ears. He kept squeezing even as inky fluid began to spill from the creature's mouth and nose, icy cool liquid splashing against his skin. There was no movement, no sound, nothing at all as he ripped into the body, tore it into shreds and-
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Logan awoke with a start, shreds of what may have once been sheets stuck to his body with icy sweat. His eyes darted around, heart thudding loudly in his ears. The mansion. He was in the mansion, having another one of those weird flashes. He swung his legs out of the bed, bare feet coming into contact with chilly wood.
He sighed and withdrew his claws back into his body, watching as the wounds healed over in seconds. He had just been getting used to the flashes of war and experiments but then, about two weeks ago, other…images had begun to take their place. Images of a life, long ago.
A woman, which flowing black hair that made his heart ache even though he wasn't sure why, who tasted of liquor and forest. A man, with blond hair who made more than just his heart ache. Most of the images centered on the man and included things that Logan didn't really understand, or remember in the morning for that matter.
This was the first time he'd seen death though. No…more than seen, had felt it. Felt the blood and the cold skin and the pain of knowing he'd failed. He had felt the bone crush under his hands and had felt the rush of rage and sorrow. He hadn't felt anything like it, except when he'd watched Jean die, unable to do anything but stand there in the grip of her power.
He ran a hand over his face and stood up, stretching sore muscles somewhat. He padded over to the balcony doors and pushed them open, letting the air of the cool autumn night wash over him. A breeze blew, rustling through the forest surrounding the school. He inhaled deeply, letting the scents seep into him then leaned against the railing heavily.
Things were shifting, changing, and he didn't need to be a fucking telepath to know it. He could smell it in the air and, more than that, he could feel it in the very marrow of his bones and in the back of his mind. A buzzing, soft and almost unnoticeable, lingered in the back of his mind. It was the same as when he'd gone to Alkali Lake to try and discover something of his past. There was something out there, something waiting…pulling at him.
Calling to him on the wind. He had to get to it.
He cracked a thin smile. 'Ro would love this; he was starting to sound as cryptic and 'holy' as she did these days. She did seem to think he needed to more in touch with nature and his spiritual side. As far as he was concerned he was pretty in tune with his animalistic side.
He let out a breath before walking over to his drawer and wrenching it open. He threw what little he'd managed to collect in the time he'd been living here, nearly three months, onto the bed then pulled out the duffle bag he kept under the bed.
A person could never be sure when they needed to beat a hasty exit. He'd write a note to the kid, let her know he'd be back once he investigated this new…what? Lead? Feeling? Weird dreams and fuzzy feelings in his gut?
He shrugged it off and zipped up the bag. Didn't really matter what he said. He'd be back, if for no other reason than because Marie still needed him somewhat and until that was no longer the case he had to keep coming back. She was…family, for lack of a better term. He protected family.
One quickly written note later and he was headed for the garage to 'borrow' Summers' bike and be on his way before anyone woke up. He got as far as the kitchen when an annoyingly familiar heartbeat stopped him. He turned into the kitchen and looked at the man whose bike he'd intended to steal. Scott was fully dressed and if not for his glasses Logan had a feeling he'd have a very accusing glare laid on him.
"What're you doing awake Cyke?"
"Enjoying the stimulating conversation, obviously." The brunette leaned forward somewhat, resting his arms on the top of the kitchen island. "You? Leaving again?"
"Yeah, what of it?" Logan couldn't quite keep the defensive tone from his voice. Part of him couldn't help but remember Jean's words. Scott was the guy she could take home to mom and dad and never doubted would stick around and now…now he was about to run off again, with Captain Reliable watching him as if it was to be expected.
"Professor thinks you should go to the city. He feels…something big is starting there and that some of the answers you need are there as well. Two birds with one stone." Scott held up his hand and the keys to his motorcycle glinted in the dim moonlight. Logan's eyes narrowed. No way in hell was Summers letting him off that easy, it just wasn't in his nature.
"And?"
Summers smirked and Logan could feel the other shoe drop right onto his fucking head. "I'm going with you."
"Like hell." He growled, not liking the almost serene scent the younger man was giving off, mingled with confidence and a hint of smugness.
"Professor seems to think you'll need my help at some point."
"So Chuck's a fucking psychic now?"
Summers shrugged, clearly unconcerned with Logan's displeasure. "Could be. Besides, I kind of want to keep an eye on my bike. You didn't fill up the tank all the way last time."
There were moments, rare fleeting moments in time, when Logan was almost convinced that Summers had something that could be considered a sense of humor. He found he was never more frustrated than in those moments.
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The New Watcher's Council had gotten word that there was an influx of demon and vampire activity in New York City and, since he was pretty much expendable, he'd been sent to find out what was going on. That was Andrew's belief anyway and he's discovered he was becoming something of a pessimist lately so it could have just been him.
Besides, they'd sent Xander as well and the older man was anything but expendable to Buffy and Giles so it was probably all in his head.
"We're almost there." There was to a group that Xander said would be able to help them out in the city. They were driving around the docks now, looking for someone. Who Andrew wasn't sure but he trusted Xander not to get them killed.
…Well, actually he wouldn't go that far. He trusted Xander to not intentionally get them killed, but to accidentally do something with a high risk of death. That was about all one could do when traveling with the 'Demon Magnet'.
"So the guy we're looking for-"
"My cousin, Hannibal."
"…Your cousin is fighting vampires?"
Xander shrugged slightly, a tiny smile curving his lips. "Yeah. I think it's a genetic thing; people descended from the Harris line just can't help but attract supernatural trouble. It's hard to say who is worse; I lived on the Hellmouth but Hannibal was a vampire."
The car swerved and Xander yelped, glaring at Andrew with his one good eye. He smiled sheepishly as he quickly got the car under control.
"Sorry."
Xander just reached over and put his seatbelt on. "Right. Anyway. A few years back a woman made an antidote to the Vampire Virus and Hannibal was cured. We don't use it more often because not everyone wants to be cured."
Andrew stayed silent, Xander having already answered his next question. He could easily understand that not everyone was looking to escape being a vampire. There was something very…freeing about letting some big evil thing control your actions and not have to think or feel.
At least until you woke up and realized you'd killed your best friend. That was…not so much on the fun side at all.
"Turn-" Xander started to say but Andrew was already doing it. Two people were standing in a parking lot before a building built right along the edge of the river.
One was a woman with long blond highlighted brown hair, dressed in what Andrew thought of as Slayer wear: Brown leather pants, a black tank top, and dark sunglasses. She had what looked like arrows strapped to her back and earphones in her ears. The other was a man with brown hair and a beard, wearing loose black cargo pants and a black t-shirt. He had a bag over one shoulder and what looked like a gun in his hands. Andrew let the car come rolling to a step right in front of them. The man opened the door and slid in the woman close behind.
"Xan, long time no see." The man said before looking over at Andrew. "Hannibal King and the lovely lady to my left id Abigail Whistler. Don't mind her, she always listens to music as she hunts. Internal soundtrack, helps her get all Zen."
"Oh." Andrew just blinked.
"Where're we going?"
"Soho." Hannibal said with a half-smile. "We had information about a few members being turned out of the Agen clan and holing up in a studio apartment. Another group tried to get in but were torn apart by zombies and I figured, you being a jack-of-all-monsters and all you could help out before we got down to business. We don't do Zombies."
"Zombies." Xan frowned, turning around to face the front. "'Drew-"
"Zombies are a kind of minion to Vampires, even lower on the totem than Humans are. When a human is completely drained and then given a few drops of blood they wake up totally mindless with a constant hunger for human flesh and obey only the orders of the one whose blood they took in. They can only obey a few orders at a time, can't go out into public and are often distracted by food so they tend to be useless as anything except nest guards. Their bite is poisonous, first turning the place around the bite numb and then traveling through the veins, discoloring the skin as it goes, and numbing the heart until it stops. The infected person then becomes a Zombie. Fire is the only way to destroy them." Andrew recited without so much as a thought before blushing darkly.
Now came the part where he was accused of showing off or trying to seem like he knew things that others didn't. His parents had always hated that and constantly accused him of trying to upstage Tucker, Warren had hated the idea of anyone knowing more than him, and in the Council it was best to just keep his mouth shut and look busy.
No one really liked him, the American with all of that knowledge who was half the age of everyone else but 'acted' like he knew more every time he opened his mouth. It wasn't like Andrew did it intentionally; he just…knew things. He always had, he'd just learned not to admit to it most of the time.
Hannibal let out a low whistle. "He's good."
Xander smirked. "One of the best. You should hear him recite all of the demon languages he knows."
Andrew blushed harder.
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'I need a new job.' Agent John Meyers thought as he eyed the body marring the décor of the upscale apartment he and his team were currently standing in. It probably costs more to live in this place for a month than he made in a month. He imagined whoever moved in next would get a decent deal though, what with a murder being committed and the carpet being ruined.
Most people might think something a bit less mundane than 'I need a new job' if they were standing next to a demon, a pyrokinetic, and a merman while investigating the body of a stock broker who'd been completely drained of blood, most of which seemed to be turning the white shag carpet a permanent shade of rusted-red or splattered over the once pristine white walls.
But not him, not Meyers. He'd seen ancient Hellgods, reborn nazis, a man who ran on some kind of clock-work system and occupied his days babysitting a half-demon who chain smoked cigars and had an almost disturbing soft spot for cats.
He was getting used to strange shit. Especially after that werewolf they'd tracked down last month only to find a more or less 'tame' werewolf coven lead by a kid from California. It had been…interesting, to say the least, not to mention enlightening.
There was something mildly comforting about knowing that Red wasn't the only demon with no interest in ripping apart humans for the pure joy of it.
"God, this is rank." Liz said finally, gloved hand going up to cover her nose. "Are you getting anything at all Blue?"
Abe, who was crouched next to the body with his hands hovering just above the skin, opened his eyes and looked over at Liz. "I'm getting plenty. A family in Ohio, a mistress named Evelyn, blood, sex, anticipation, pain, death…death."
"Obviously." Red muttered from his place by the window. He couldn't get too close to the body, which reeked, and seemed more than a little pissed off about it. Hell, the entire apartment stank of death, seemingly to imply the body had been there long enough to permeate the space with its stench. "We gotta hurry this up before the locals get curious."
They, or rather Meyers, had gotten in by flashing an FBI badge and claiming it could be the work of a serial killer and that they needed the apartment to themselves for a few moments. The other three had come in through the back, so as not to be seen, but it was only a matter of time before the cops he'd got them past started to get curious.
"Yes well…I don't think this is this man's blood." Abe said, cocking his head off to the side. "I don't think this man was even killed here."
"Well he looks dead enough now, so how'd he get here?" Red asked gruffly.
Meyers looked at him from his carefully chosen place on the wall. It was one of the few places not sprayed with droplets of blood and so safe for him to stand against. He was hoping anyway. Red was standing as close to the open window as he could manage without being seen, light of the fading sun washing over the bright red skin. To anyone else he would just look mad, his almost constant disposition, but Meyers could detect an undercurrent of…something.
He pushed off the wall and worked over to the half-demon who eyed him almost warily. "You okay Red?" He kept his voice low so Sparky and Blue wouldn't hear and, after a short pause, Red sighed.
"I got this feeling. Something's off in here." Red moved away from the wall and past the window.
Meyers rolled his eyes, glancing out to make sure no one was looking, and then walked after him. Liz cast him a curious glance, which he just shrugged to, before turning back to Abe. Hellboy opened the door the lead from the living room deeper into the apartment and went down the hall that was now exposed, pointedly ignoring the crime scene tape.
Meyers almost gagged when he stepped through the doorway, the smell was so strong. He could hear the loud buzzing of flies, even though he couldn't see them in the darkness of the hall and for the first time it occurred to him that there hadn't been any out there in the living room. A kind of muggy dankness clung to his skin, almost like a slimy feeling, and he could feel the carpet squishing under his boots.
He was going to be sick. Already he was feeling lightheaded and could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat. He had no idea how Red, whose sense of smell was much better than his, could be walking around so easily.
There was a soft humming, from Red he assumed and then a click that was followed immediately by the hall being filled with blinding light. Meyers blinked, trying to clear his suddenly spotty vision, and, once he could see, wished he couldn't.
Bodies, sitting and laying on top of each other, were propped up against the walls, limbs lolling to the side. All were pale and lifeless, eyes open and milky staring into nothing, mouths stained dark red with blood. Again the carpet was soaked through with blood and the air was thick with it. Blood smeared the walls and things that may have been limbs, minus bodies, were scattered about and seemed to have bits of flesh bitten out and the bones gnawed on.
Meyers' stomach clenched and the back of his throat burned. This was the worse thing he'd seen by far and he really felt like he was going to pass out any moment.
A hand touched the small of his back and, after swallowing thickly, he looked at Red who was regarding him carefully.
"You got it together Boyscout?"
Meyers was tempted to say no, but the use of the nickname that he hated steeled him. He couldn't back down in front of Red; he'd never hear the end of it. He nodded, swallowing again. Red nodded back then turned and faced the doorway that was directly behind them.
Meyers was suddenly aware of his heart thudding in his chest. He reached for his gun, having the strange feeling that nothing good was behind that door. Red pushed it open and Meyers stared into complete darkness. For a long second nothing stirred.
A shriek from behind them made Meyer's turn. He could just make out Liz body surrounded by blue flames, falling back onto the ground before a jet of flame left her fingertips. Something brushed over his foot and he looked down to see the body closest to him stirring, stiff limbs stretching and cool fingers flexed. He jumped back, a shout dying in his throat as a cold clammy hand closed around his ankle.
He looked down into filmy blue eyes then held up his gun and pulled the trigger, trying not to wince as the head on the thing exploded outward. He wrenched his leg away then looked up to see the bodies were all moving, slowing rising to their feet with jerky uncoordinated steps. Their mouths were open to let out low moaning sounds, lips and teeth stained red and black.
Meyers couldn't help but think back to the brain-eating zombies from movies he'd watched as a child. Icy fingers brushed his skin again and he jerked away and tripped over something. He felt the blood in the carpet seep up around his fingers and start to soak through his pants even before the creatures converged on him, jaws open. Teeth, blunt human teeth, bit into his shoulder and this time he screamed. Not only did it hurt as far as being bitten went but also it burned like acid was being spit into the wound. He thrashed, grip on his gun tightening then shot at where he thought the bite was coming from.
He saw from the corner of his eye on of the things lose half of its skull. Gray leaked from the wound, dribbling down the ashen face as the creature reared back only to surge forward once again. Another set of jaws clamped down on his arm even as his shoulder started to go numb.
Then he felt it, heat licking at his skin. The creatures paid no heed even as they burst into pillars of blue flame. He however was untouched by the fires and he silently thanked whatever god was looking out for him that Liz had more control over her flames these days. A large hand grabbed his shoulder and hauled him up onto his feet.
"Stay up Boyscout, I don't want to explain to Abe and Liz why I let you get eaten." Hot breath fanned over his cheek and he tilted his head back to look into gold eyes.
His shoulder was numb and his arm was starting to burst into the little tingles that indicated that it would be going numb soon as well. Dead bodies were rolling around on the floor, consumed by unnaturally colored flames coming from a woman at the end of the hallway and this…demon with a stone hand was snarking at him.
"Your concern for me is overwhelming Red, truly."
"I'm just that kinda guy Meyers." Red smirked before pushing something long and cool into his hand. "Lets go, guns aren't much good against zombies."
"Where're we going?" Meyers asked warily as he followed Red into the dark room and right over to a window. The sky had gone dark and stars were starting to dot the blue-purple curtain.
"Hunting. The ones that made our zombie friends went out the window. Try to keep up this time Scout." With that Red lept from the window and to the street below, making a considerable crack in the pavement when he did. Meyers rolled his eyes heavenward before climbing out and making his way down the fire escape.
Clearly this would be another fun filled night of chasing Red around the city. Once he was safely on the ground he looked down at what Red had given him, hoping for a hint about what it was they were after.
A long cylinder, sharpened at one end that was made of metal…silver? A sliver stake.
He was putting in a request for a transfer in the morning.
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TBC in chapter Two, in which certain parties converge at certain areas to deal with certain vampires.