A/N: I've officially changed the rating as of this update, but don't get too excited, things don't get too hot and heavy just yet ;)


We've got a vicious love

We mix our tears with blood

No clock will stop for us

It ticks by

We fight as hard as we love

We've got a vicious love

Vicious Love – New Found Glory


If you'd asked me how I'd wanted to spend my Saturday night, I would have said 'reading in front of the fire with Stiles' or 'watching the comedy channel with Stiles'. What was I doing instead?

Hunting bloody werewolves.

I was ankle-deep in mud, the ground gluggy after the recent rains, pushing my way through the forest of sludge, looking for any sign of the pack that had wandered into town. Scott, Derek, Isaac and I had split up (which I, for the record, thought was a terrible idea). It was only meant to be a reconnaissance mission, getting intel on the pack's whereabouts and reporting back to the group so we could form a plan.

Scott wanted to talk to them, ask them to leave town peacefully. Derek and I wanted to kill them.

Our plan was vetoed pretty much instantly.

"Wade through a swamp at dusk before the full moon, they said," I muttered to myself bitterly, leaning my weight on a tree as I avoided a rough looking sink hole. "It won't be so bad, they said." I stepped over the carcass of a decaying animal, mentally planning my revenge.

I glanced up at the sky, checking that the moon hadn't risen yet. According to my watch I had thirty more minutes before it would be high enough in the sky to trigger the shift, signalling the end of my shift. I sighed, cracking my knuckles, my narrowed eyes scanning the trees, looking for any hint of a wolf. I was so focused on my task that when my phone rang it made me jump. I bit my tongue, swearing loudly and fishing the device from my pocket.

"What?" I snapped at the caller irritably.

"No sign of the pack in my zone," Derek's hard voice replied, caring little for my sour attitude.

"Thought I caught a whiff of wet dog a few miles back, but I couldn't track it through all the mud," I replied tightly, scowling deeply at him even though he couldn't see it.

"Your sense of smell is no match for mine, I'll come down to your zone and try and track it."

"Anything you can do, I can do better," I bit back childishly.

"Sure," he replied patronisingly.

"You know what Derek?" I asked, clutching my phone so tightly I heard it creak under the pressure. "You can go suck a fuck."

"How exactly am I meant to-"

"Shut up."

He cut himself off abruptly, albeit begrudgingly. "What?" he asked after a long minute of silence. I didn't respond, all of my attention on the sound of footsteps coming from the shadows. "Juliet?" My eyes narrowed at the source of the sound, and then glowing amber eyes were shining from the darkness.

"Meet me in my zone," I told Derek under my breath. "And bring backup."

I hung up straight after, turning to face the werewolf, hands held out placatingly. "You are vampire," a stilted, accented voice stated from the darkness, and I looked to my right where another pair of eyes, these ones glowing blue, stared at me. "You are one of Klaus's?"

I frowned at the question. "No," I told him honestly. He shifted his weight, slipping closer, allowing me to see the rest of him. He had dark skin, a scar running across his cheek and a sneer on his lips, wearing nothing but a dirty pair of jeans. "I'm a friend."

The other wolf stepped out, dressed much the same as his pack mate. He opened his mouth and words flew out, none of which I understood. They seemed to be speaking some kind of African dialect, possibly Swahili. They argued for a long moment, growls punctuating sentences, faces half transformed with fangs protruding from their thick lips.

"Are you running from Klaus?" I asked tightly, and their dark gazes snapped to me instantly.

The blue eyed one looked like the last thing he wanted to do was answer, but amber eyes spoke up before he could stop him. "Are you?"

"I was," I admitted softly, staring into his eyes, silently communicating I was no threat. "For a long time I was. But not any more."

I could tell he was curious, probably desperate for a way out of the life he lived. "How?"

"Time," I answered him, and he looked like he was about to reply when a twig snapped from the darkness beyond them. I cringed, glaring through the shadows at Derek, who stepped into the moonlight and stared back at the newcomers stonily. "He'll get bored of chasing you eventually."

"The Original does not let go of a grudge," he told me darkly.

He had a point. "Well you're not wrong," I allowed, crossing my arms over my chest, appearing relaxed but not for a second letting my guard down.

"What's an Original?" Derek asked from his place to the side, voice an irritated growl.

"Your worst nightmare," Blue Eyes snapped back, dark skin creasing around his lashes. The alpha shot me a confused look, and I shot him a sharp look back, silently telling him I would explain at a later date.

Before he could reply, there was a piercing howl from deep in the woods, making my hair stand on end. My fangs slipped free in defence, and the wolves growled in response. It was tense and silent, all of us unwilling to be the first to break. Finally I decided that – being the oldest – it was up to me to smooth things over. "You can't stay in town over the full moon," I told them seriously, ignoring the way their eyes flashed indignantly. "The people in this town are under our protection," I explained in a hard voice. "We will not put them at risk."

"And what authority do you hold to tell us what we can and cannot do?"

My jaw clicked angrily. "I'm older," I said childishly, resorting to petty tactics, foolishly hoping it would win the argument. Unfortunately they were too mature to sink down to my level, neither of them bothering to reply.

There was another howl that seemed to echo all around us. "We must go," Amber Eyes said shortly, glancing into the shadows behind him.

"You'll leave before tomorrow night?" Derek confirmed, but again, neither of them responded, merely sending us cool stares before turning around and sliding into the night, footsteps heavy on the wet earth. "We'll patrol again at dusk," he said once they were out of earshot.

"But tomorrow's the full moon," I pointed out with a frown.

"So?"

I huffed in annoyance but decided not to argue. I'd gone this many years without a deadly werewolf bite, one more trapeze into danger wouldn't hurt me. "At dusk," I agreed with a bow of my head.

Without further detail I spun around, disappearing into the depths of the forest, an excited thrill shooting through me as I thought about my destination.


"You know," I began conversationally, throwing one leg over the other and reclining back into Stiles' desk chair. His heart jumped in surprise, but he was getting slightly better at controlling his reaction, merely gasping from where he sat on his bed, pouring over the documents in front of him. "I think the point of Summer vacation is that you get a break from work, not to take the opportunity to do more."

He grinned once he recovered, heart continuing to race as his eyes trailed from my leather pants, to his old sweater, to my windswept hair. "It's research," he told me, clicking his pen over and over.

"On?" I asked curiously.

"The Originals."

I didn't say anything for a long moment, memories flashing behind my eyes like a film. Images of a blonde vampire, her blue dress wrapping around her like water as she laughed at a stupid joke; a dapper dark haired vampire, sneering as he sipped blood from a wine glass; a handsome vampire with a strong jaw and a heightened sense of honour, reading aloud from a heavy latin volume, eager to share his knowledge; a sandy haired hybrid, blue eyes glittering in the candle light, smirking up at me devilishly as his hands flew across parchment, the soft scratch of his pencil the only sound filling the room...

"And what did you find?" I asked as a moment later, refusing to admit I'd faltered.

Stiles sighed tiredly. "Pretty much nothing," he grumbled, clearly not happy about the answer. "I found some old scans from a journal back in the nineteenth century, but none of them were very clear, and they didn't for a second mention vampires, so I can't be sure if it's really him."

"I'm not surprised," I shrugged, swinging softly on the swivel chair. "Most of my kind barely believe they even exist, not many believe the Original family is anything more than a legend."

"What were they like?" he asked eagerly, abandoning his research and watching me, curious about my answer.

Although I'd given him the basic outline of my story, I'd scarcely given him detail. Even though I was reluctant to do so – for I wasn't in the mood to relive any of it – I felt like I owed it to him. I was...involved with him, he deserved to know everything.

"Kol was mischievous, funny and unwaveringly ruthless. He made for an exceptionally fun vampire." I hesitated, but knew I'd gone too far to take a step back now. "A common trait in my kind is a love of torture, and Kol was no exception. We both lived off the chaos as much as we lived off the blood, we weren't necessarily friends, but we did bond over our mutual love of disarray.

"Rebekah was beautiful and sweet, but she could turn deadly in an instant should you cross her. She had a difficult time making friends, so when I was brought into her world, she was all too eager to show me the ropes. We fought like crazy, or I suppose 'bickered' is a more appropriate word. Still, we were close, but in the end I wasn't enough of a reason for her to stand up to her brother.

"Elijah was the academic one. We had a shared love of knowledge, on the rare occasions when I wasn't in the mood and when the others would tear through towns like hurricanes, we would haul up in the local library, desperate to get our hands on new material and learn. He was kind but no less brutal, which worked well for me. I never felt like he judged me."

I was silent for a minute, frowning at my dirty shoes as I collected my thoughts.

"And Klaus?" Stiles asked, unsure if I was going to continue.

"Klaus was – on the surface – charming and appealing, he seemed to do everything right. He was witty and smart, mysterious and powerful. He was everything a young and impressionable girl could want. He seemed to be faultless, at least, until he turned me. Things only seemed to worsen once I was one of them.

"Looking back I can see how controlling and manipulative he was, but at the time I was...in love, I suppose; blinded by what I felt for him."

"What did you do with him?" Stiles asked inquisitively.

I smiled ruefully, the expression bitter. "Tortured, mostly. Caused pandemonium, turmoil – chaos in any way we could." Stiles had a thoughtful frown on his freckled face, and I was terrified about what was happening inside of his head. I'd said too much. "You have to understand, I was young and I didn't know any different. I didn't know there was an alternative way to live this life. If I could go back and do it all over, I would, but-"

"I wouldn't."

I paused, brows pulling together in confusion. "What?"

"I wouldn't change any of it," he said slowly. I tilted my head curiously. "Everything that happened, it led you here," he explained, red blotches appearing on his cheeks though his expression stayed sincere. "So I wouldn't change any of it."

I didn't reply for a long minute, observing him thoughtfully. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say," I finally spoke, lips twitching up into a pleased smirk. He spluttered helplessly for a long minute, unsure where to go from there. He looked uncomfortable, so I threw him a bone. "Still, sweet has nothing on sour," I told him with a mischievous glint to my gaze. "So don't feel pressured to keep sprouting romantic bullshit in an attempt to impress me."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but something seemed to be stopping him. The last thing I wanted to do was push him, so I let it go, merely spinning gently on the chair, idly clicking my tongue.

It was silent for a long time as Stiles stared down at the papers in his hands, mind clearly elsewhere, and I tipped my head back, closing my eyes and simply relaxing in my human boyfriend's presence.

After a decent chunk of time had passed, Stiles let out a loud yawn, and I opened my eyes, watching him closely before my gaze darted to the clock by his bed, brow furrowing as I took in the time. "It's 5am," I stated with a frown, and Stiles nodded, sliding to his feet and beginning to put away his research. "Why didn't you say something? You should have gone to bed ages ago."

He shrugged, eyes on his work. "I wouldn't have slept anyway, not until I was sure you were okay," he told me quietly as he shuffled the papers in his hands.

My lips curved up and by the time he turned to face me, I was inches away from his face, making him gasp under his breath. "You worry about me?" I asked coyly, raising a single eyebrow at him flirtatiously, taking pleasure in the way his heart stuttered. He didn't answer, clearing his throat, unable to tear his gaze from mine. "You know I'm a 200 year old vampire, right?" I said, head tilting up and leaning in, just enough that our lips brushed. "I can take care of myself."

"Like you did when Peter scratched you at the school? Or when you drowned in the pool with the kanima? Or the time when the Argents kidnapped and tortured you? How about when-"

"Okay," I cut him off, narrowing my eyes up at him. "So I've been a little off my game since coming here," I allowed reluctantly, reaching up to wind my arms around his neck, blinking innocently. "You're very distracting, you know?" I leaned closer but he didn't move to meet me, something holding him back. I sighed, inching closer and brushing our noses together. "Nothing bad is going to happen to me," I assured him softly. "I've been around a long time, it'll take more than a few stray dogs to get rid of me."

He still didn't look convinced. "Regardless, I'd feel better if you stayed inside tomorrow night," he mumbled, a rare, serious expression on his features.

I rolled my eyes with a smirk, secretly pleased about how he worried. "I've survived over 2000 full moons so far, one more won't kill me," I told him reassuringly, thumbs lightly stroking the sensitive skin at the back of his neck.

The concerned frown seemed to be glued to his enticing lips. "I just...I have a bad feeling about this one," he conceded warily.

I didn't want to give in, it wasn't in my nature. But as I stared up into his honey brown eyes, I admitted to myself, for what was surely the hundredth time, that I couldn't deny him anything.

"I'll stay inside," I vowed, curling my fingers around his skin, ignoring the way I felt the blood pump from beneath it.

The tension seemed to evaporate from his body, and he sagged with something like relief, dipping his head until his brow pressed gently against mine. "Promise me you'll be okay?" he begged quietly, and I was taken aback by how serious he was being, by how vulnerable he appeared to be.

I couldn't help but say exactly what he wanted to hear. "I promise," I assured him, honestly believing my own words. He nodded, yawning loudly but shifting forwards enough to plant a sloppy kiss on my lips. "I think it's bedtime," I told him, pulling away and ignoring the way he chased after me.

He groaned unhappily, pouting down at me. "Five more minutes," he said as though I were some kind of authority figure. I chuckled lightly, giving in and surging forwards, slamming my lips onto his.

He smiled, clearly pleased he'd won me over, fingers dragging down over the exposed skin of my arms then curling around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I sighed into the kiss, happy to be close with him, enjoying our time alone. It was like we were in our own little universe, the world around us dark and silent, only his bedside lamp filling the room with a muted glow.

He leaned into me, humming in satisfaction, changing the angle of the kiss, tongue flicking out to shyly brush against my lower lip. It was like an electric jolt, the otherwise useless cavity in my chest seeming to be both heavy and weightless in the same instant. My hands ran up passed his ears, fingers clutching uselessly at his short hair. I broke away reluctantly, allowing him a moment to breathe.

"You should grow your hair," I whispered to him amorously as I brushed my thumbs through his buzz cut and peeking my eyes open to stare at him, enjoying the way red flooded his cheeks.

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly, eyelids still closed like they were too heavy to lift. His heart was beating up a storm in his chest, and I felt warmly proud that I evoked such an intense reaction within him.

"Oh yes," I confirmed lightly, ducking forwards to playfully nip at the seam of his lips. "I love to have something to tug on."

He swallowed loudly, finally sliding open his eyes to peer down at me, surprisingly confident looking. "Noted."

I wasn't sure who moved, but in the next second our mouths were once again pressed to each other's, tongues impatient and eager. His hands clutched at my back, fingers dragging across the fabric of my shirt, clearly dying to feel my cool flesh. I kissed him deeper, encouraging him to go further, to push the limits we'd set. His hands were shaking but he was braver than usual, palms finally slipping under the soft material of my shirt, and he moaned deliciously, his fingers running over my back.

I smiled with pleasure, humming quietly myself and pressing impossibly closer, fingernails dragging across the skin I could reach with only a sliver of my potential strength, careful not to rip the smooth, warm, freckled flesh that I loved so very much.

Our tongues tangled together and he pressed into me, moaning loudly when I copied the action, impishly hooking one knee over his hip and rolling my hips into his. He pulled away for a moment, reluctantly desperate for air. Thankful, for once, for my lack of necessity to breathe as I continued down the column of his throat, unwilling to pull my lips from his skin for even a second.

His breathing was shallow and his skin hot to the touch. I lavished attention to his neck, simultaneously inhaling his irresistible scent.

I didn't realise what a mistake I'd made until the achingly familiar taste of fresh blood hit my tongue, the liquid pooling in my mouth, making my entire body hum with energy. I ripped away from my human boyfriend, hand snapping to my mouth in horror as I stared at the cut my fangs had made in his otherwise perfect skin, a drop of blood rolling down to his collarbone tantalisingly.

My eyes began to burn and I once again felt the intense need to throw up. I swallowed the urge, the once glorious blood suddenly like acid as it slid down my throat. "I'm sorry," I managed to murmur, never having hated myself as intensely as I did right then.

It wasn't my first time getting physically close to a human, every vampire tried it at one point or another. It was, however, the first time I'd been intimate with one without the intention of drinking from them. That was the last thing I wanted in this case. I wasn't used to resisting the urge; it was entirely new, and apparently I wasn't very good at it.

Stiles still looked flushed, his shirt was askew and his lips were gratifyingly swollen, eyes glazed over like he wasn't even in the room with me.

"What?" he asked after a long pause as I continued to stare at him, full to the brim with self-loathing. "Sorry?"

I shot him an incredulous look, glancing pointedly at his bleeding neck. With a frown he lifted his hand, fingers gently brushing the broken skin, appearing surprised when he looked down and saw the blood smeared on his pale skin.

"Oh," he breathed, and I wondered how he possibly couldn't have felt me biting him. Realisation slowly flooded his face, and he shot me a nearly apologetic expression. He was too smart to try actually apologising or anything so stupid, instead looking at me with sympathy. "It's alright Jules," he told me, voice overflowing with sincerity.

Now that he knew the cut was there, the ache that no doubt came with it caught his attention, and he pressed his fingers to the wound, wincing slightly. Overwrought with guilt, an idea floated into my head, one I had, until now, violently pretended didn't exist.

Blood sharing.

I'd considered it, of course, but up until then I hadn't felt it was an option. The urge to do it was as much a part of me as my fangs were, but Stiles was human, and I'd assumed the idea was disgusting as it no doubt sounded.

But I stared at Stiles, watching him watch me, eyes filled with worry not for himself, but for me. I melted, my eyes still watering in a way I would forever deny. I stepped closer, relieved when he didn't flinch away. My hand drifted up to softly brush the knick on his neck, I wanted to apologise again, but I knew he wouldn't be pleased, so I held my tongue.

"I can heal it," I said before I'd made any conscious decision to speak.

His eyes widened and his heart sped up, but there was no fear or disgust in his gaze. I would almost describe his expression as...excited, or interested perhaps. We'd talked at length about my abilities, for someone who was barely scraping by at school, he sure did have a thirst for knowledge. He knew my blood healed human wounds, he didn't, however, know what a sacred and humungous step it was for a vampire to take.

Sharing blood? I might as well have asked him to be my mate.

It was dangerous; what if something happened to him while my blood was in his system? I couldn't deny the pleasure that curled in my gut at the thought of turning him, but I knew it would have to be completely consensual, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if it happened without his permission.

I wondered if that made me a terrible excuse for a person, caring about someone so much I was considering killing them; damning their soul for all eternity. And the thought of it excited me.

He barely seemed to think about my offer, pausing only a split second before nodding in a way I would almost say was eager. My stomach fluttered as my emerald eyes blinked up at his honey brown, his skin still flushed and his heart thudding in nervous anticipation. Without breaking eye contact my arm rose to my mouth, my fangs slipping free as I unflinchingly bit into the delicate skin at my wrist, my own unappetising blood pooled in my mouth, and I pulled it away, holding it out to Stiles, who appeared jittery but also intrigued and eager.

There was also the unmistakable glint of lust in his enchanting gaze, which did things to me that not even Klaus, Damon and Johnny Depp combined could achieve. In a movement that was entirely too sexy for his own good, he sealed his lips around my bleeding wound, keeping eye contact with me the whole time.

My breath literally caught in my throat as his tongue flicked out and swiped at the puncture wound, hesitating only a moment before he began sucking. The blood surged from my veins in a feeling I could only describe as pure pleasure. I bit my lip, desperately trying to contain an embarrassing moan. Stiles' eyes slid shut and he hummed in apparent bliss.

After a moment longer than appropriate I finally (and reluctantly) pulled my wrist away from his lips, the wound instantly closing, leaving healed, unblemished skin behind. I let a euphoric sigh escape my lips, feeling content in a way I only usually did when I drank from the source. It was a different kind of satisfaction, one that settled in my soul rather than my body.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, because as always, Stiles was my priority.

His eyes cracked open a fraction and he peered up at me blearily. "Yeah," he nodded, then stopped and winced like the motion made him dizzy. "I'm better than okay." He was quiet for a moment, and I shuffled closer, barely able to stand the inches between us.

"Come on," I prompted him quietly, reaching over to thread our fingers together lazily. "Sleep time."

He let me lead him over to the bed. He sat down robotically, still dazed. I kicked my shoes off, turning off the lamp beside the bed before slipping under the covers with him, curling around him like a barnacle, uncaring how it may have looked.

"Is-is that...special?" he asked after a beat, blinking at me sleepily through the dark.

"What?" I whispered back innocently, hoping he'd get sidetracked and not ask further.

"Blood sharing?" he clarified, and even though he couldn't see my face I still buried my head in his collarbone, running my lips over his soft skin. "I read that it was kind of a...personal thing to do."

I didn't want to tell him the truth, but I also knew lying wasn't an option.

"It is," I confirmed, idly tracing a pentagram onto his shoulder.

He was quiet, breathing steadily as he processed my words. "Why'd you do it then?" he asked, tone coloured with confusion. "To me of all people?"

I smiled at how adorably confused he sounded. "It must mean I kinda like you," I shrugged with a coy smile, making sure he could feel the movement.

"Really?" he questioned, a smile in his voice. I rolled my eyes, as though kissing him senseless mere minutes ago wasn't proof enough.

"Well, at the very least, I tolerate you," I told him, recalling a time I'd said the exact same thing, only it had been filled with far less meaning at that point so many months ago.

"...I tolerate you too," he told me, clearly drowsy.

I grinned, pressing a kiss to his neck before pulling back, throwing an arm over him and burrowing into his side, sighing happily as he nuzzled my hair, not-so-subtly inhaling the scent.

It should have frightened me, how drastically my life had changed over only a short amount of months. It should have horrified me that I'd become domesticated, reduced to something as tame as a common house cat. It should have terrified me that I'd fallen completely and inescapably in love with this human boy.

It should have scared me to pieces.

But it didn't.