Chapter 1 - Beginning of the End
Plot: A mission gone wrong for Cid leaves Hunter as a vampire, a fact that he endeavors to hide from his squad. And then, when he's captured by the Empire, by Crosshair, after Daro, he turns his brother, because surely, if Crosshair is a vampire, he'll be able to overcome the chip and leave with them, right? Right? ? ?
Author's Note: Welcome to the second Vampire AU we've written with the Bad Batch! This fills the square "freedom" in the Bad Batch Bingo. :D
Warnings: Uh... non-consensual biting. :)
~ Amina Gila
Echo took Omega to their racks with Wrecker. She normally sleeps in her room, but she didn't want to be alone, and Hunter offered her his own rack immediately. He doesn't want to sleep. Doesn't think he could, not after everything that's happened. He's worried, too. He doesn't know what this'll mean for her, or for any of them. The Kaminoans are after her, and... it's already been dangerous. Hunter nearly died. Omega herself nearly got killed the first time on Pantora when the bounty hunters started coming.
Tech comes over to scan Hunter while the others are gone. "You are recovering abnormally fast," he remarks.
"Maybe it wasn't as bad as we thought," Hunter offers, though it makes sense because of the... that. That thing.
Tech looks highly unimpressed by his attempt at brushing it off. "That is impossible," he replies flatly, "You were shot through the chest. Half an inch over, and it would have gone through your heart. I suspect it may have some connection with your abnormal energy readings since Vanqor."
Of course, Tech is putting it together. "That wasn't the best mission we've ever been on," he says. The diversion would've worked on Wrecker, not Tech. What's he doing? How can he even think that – trying to divert the topic with Tech is the best way of letting him on. Maybe he's more exhausted than he thought. Or maybe he's just hungrier than he thought.
The burning, itching, gnawing hunger hasn't been this bad since he first turned. He nearly died, and he would've bitten Wrecker right then and there when he was treating his injuries if moving didn't hurt so much. But through sheer self-restraint, Hunter held off, because these are his brothers, and no matter what his newfound vampire instincts say, he will not see them as food.
His brother's gaze sharpens a little. "Hunter," he says, slowly, "What are you not saying?"
He doesn't want to talk about it. He doesn't know how they captured him in the first place. And Tech, no doubt, will figure it out momentarily, if Hunter doesn't just tell him. Which he should've done, but it didn't really seem relevant, and nor was it something he wanted to explain. He would much rather not think about this. Or the urges and feelings that come with it. They're – it's maddening.
Hunter does not want to admit how desperately he wants to sink his fangs into someone's neck and just feed.
He leans back, sighing. "They turned me," he supplies finally.
Tech is staring at him. "That... would explain a few things," he admits at last. There's a pause, then – "Do you feel different?"
It's hard to tell if that's worry or curiosity. "Somewhat."
Hunter knows a lot about vampires from Tech already. He was talking about them non-stop on the way there. And about how they've apparently adapted to living on a mostly barren planet with very little life. This is also the last time Hunter is taking Omega to a savage planet like that.
"Has your injury made you... how should I put this..." Tech trails off, adjusting his goggles.
Hunter shudders. "Hungry," he supplies, trying not to think about how the entire ship is full of... well, people. He can feel the pull, the itch, and it makes him sick. These are his brothers. Family. His squad. He shouldn't – "Yes."
"Feeding is necessary," Tech tells him. Hunter doesn't want to think about that, though – he's been ignoring it since it happened. After the... initial beginning, he hasn't felt the need to, either. Not until now. "A vampire's enhanced healing will be severely energy draining otherwise."
Which explains why he's so tired. Part of why, anyway. "I won't," he insists stubbornly.
"That is not a choice you will be able to make for long," Tech replies. He doesn't sound perturbed about it, and it's almost maddening, but then again, he's not the one who has to deal with these urges.
"What do you suggest?" Hunter asks, sighing. He somehow doesn't think Tech is going to give up on this.
Tech just... looks at him. And he doesn't like that look.
"No. I'm not going to feed from you." Yes, he's being stubborn, but he refuses to bite one of his brothers. That is... just... No. Even if there's still a frustratingly stubborn part of his mind that wants to.
His own turning was lost mostly in a haze of hunger that he was just waking out of when his brothers arrived. He's never stopped being hungry since. It's been itching, twisting inside him, and it's just as unsettling that he doesn't find the concept as sickening as he once would've.
"I do not think ordinary food will be enough to help you recover," Tech warns, "And the likelihood of you losing control is high."
"How high?" This is something his squad will find out about eventually, but he's – he's not ready to explain it. Not when he's still processing it himself, even if a desperate part of him wants to ask Echo how he managed it when he woke up a year later, half machine, how he was able to handle and readjust to being something he never wanted to be.
Hunter didn't want this. He didn't even realize what was happening until it happened, and then... it was too late to stop.
"Very."
Tech does have a point. It might be necessary, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be this or do this.
But he doesn't know if it's really worth that risk. It's about more than what Hunter is comfortable with – it always is. His squad does not need to deal with him going feral or hurting someone. He'd hurt them first, most likely, and he can't risk that. "What do you suggest?" Hunter inquires finally.
"If you don't want the others to know, we can go to the 'fresher."
"We?" he repeats. His stomach flips. "I'm not going to bite you, Tech."
"I have been shot before," he reminds. "We've survived far worse."
He doesn't have a choice, though. "Alright," Hunter concedes, annoyed, finally giving into the frantic, itching pull. "We better go there before Echo takes it."
Tech seems way too eager. Probably, he's just curious, and while Hunter entirely understands the morbid curiosity, he does not share it.
He would be very reluctantly accepting of biting Echo. Not one of his younger brothers. But at least it's Tech, not Wrecker, and at least, he agreed.
The door locks behind them.
It isn't as though Hunter hasn't bitten people before. He did. Once. When he first turned, though that was mostly lost in a haze of desperate hunger. He shouldn't feel so nervous about it. Or uncertain.
On second thought, it would be less awkward if it was Wrecker, because Hunter hasn't initiated close contact with Tech in a very long time. Not like this.
"We should sit down," Hunter supplies – Force, he feels awkward enough about this that it's a good thing Tech doesn't, or he'd be trying to ignore it entirely, never mind how deep the gnawing desperation is getting.
He's so close and the pull is so strong that it's overwhelming, chipping away at his sanity. Omega's absence distracted him, gave him something to focus on, and Hunter didn't have time to worry about anything else.
He kneels, and Tech sits opposite him, legs crossed.
And just looks at him expectantly.
Hunter still feels like he should say something.
"I don't want to turn you," he supplies finally. That was how it happened to him, and he doesn't understand enough about vampires to know how it works.
"Then don't," Tech tells him flippantly, "It works based on desire." That is relieving to know, because he does not want his brothers to deal with what he is.
"Tell me if I'm going too far," Hunter requests, hesitantly reaching out to lay his hands on his little brother's shoulders.
"I will," he assures.
He hesitates a moment longer, anyway, before leaning forwards. Hunter slides his right hand over, pulling down the neckline of his little brother's body glove.
"Be careful," Tech warns, "Neck wounds can bleed profusely."
"I know." He doesn't need the reminder. He still doesn't want to, but the aching, clawing need inside him is overruling logic, and Tech is right that he needed to feed, clearly. He doesn't know how long he could've held off. Not without using up the rest of their ration stockpile, anyway, and they hardly have enough to get by, as is.
And the food-thieving thing is Wrecker's role.
Tech lets out a faint gasp-hiss when Hunter's fangs sink into his neck, but he doesn't try to stop him.
Guilt flares up, and he does his best to ignore it.
He's doing this for a reason. It'll be pointless if he doesn't carry through. He couldn't pull back even if he tried now, anyway – not with the scent of blood so close.
Tech was right, he has to grudgingly admit. Hunter was far closer to snapping than he wanted to admit.
It tastes... different. Different than he thought it would. It's sort of tangy and sweet and coppery at once. It tastes just like how he smells, which is weird. Tech has always had a vaguely metallic scent to him. Something oddly wire-like.
His senses are heightened – have been since Vanqor. The scent is overwhelming, but Hunter had that problem when he was little, and the answer is always the same. He breathes in, forcing the tension out of him and just... accepts it. It's Tech, anyway – his brother.
And Hunter presses closer as the awkwardness and uncertainty is replaced by a strange sort of contended calm.
He's mildly surprised when Tech reaches back, hand lightly touching his side.
Hunter lost track of time somewhere throughout – it's been at least five minutes. Maybe ten. Maybe fifteen, he's not sure. He's trying to hold back, for as hard as it is, because he could easily hurt him and...
"Does it hurt?" Hunter asks him finally, pulling back a little.
"Minimally."
Probably, Tech is the wrong person to ask that.
The pull isn't as strong anymore. He could – theoretically – stop now, even if he doesn't want to.
It's a strange sensation, but the blood is working through him, healing, and his chest isn't throbbing nearly so much anymore.
It takes a ridiculous amount of effort for Hunter to push himself away, pressing his hand to the bite.
"That did not take as long as I suspected," Tech remarks. He strangely doesn't seem uncomfortable.
Hunter is just trying not to think about it. He bit his brother, and he... fed on him. And it felt nice. That's what unnerves him the most. The smell of blood is still strong. Probably, most people wouldn't smell it, but Hunter's senses have always been keen. Too much so. He wants to do it again. Longer.
He itches to pull Tech into his arms again and just hold him, which is weird, because Hunter doesn't do that, and it has never been their thing in the least.
"I'll be fine," Hunter assures, hoping it's true. He licks his lips off, anyway, then pulls his hand back to lick that off, too.
Hunter twists around to sit beside him, trying to hide the bite mark from view, because if he keeps seeing it, he'll drive himself insane. Tech leans closer until their shoulders touch.
Clearly, he doesn't want to let go, either, which isn't normal.
... Hunter isn't compelling him, is he? He's fairly certain he's not. But he's been wanting assurance enough that he can't be sure.
"What are you thinking?" Hunter inquires finally after a few brief moments of silence – they should leave before Echo wonders what they're doing – because Tech just has this look.
"I am curious as to whether a sire's control would overrule that of an inhibitor chip," he admits.
It's... not much better, Hunter thinks darkly, because it's still control, but he – he wonders, too. He wonders what it would mean for Crosshair, if he was turned, but Hunter would – could – never do that to one of his brothers. He couldn't make them become this. And even if he did, he couldn't control them. The bond does create a sense of devotion, though, and he doesn't know if that could overrule it or not. Maybe. "It doesn't matter," he replies. Is it orders they feel the need to follow, or the Empire? Hunter has no idea how it works. They have no way to know.
"It may," Tech responds. "I have no doubt we will encounter Crosshair again."
They all want him back. It's... not something they talk about, but Hunter knows that desire, that aching longing is there. Omega thinks it possible, but Hunter knows better. He needs to be realistic, and that is not. They'd have to subdue him, and... forcibly removing Crosshair's chip would be wrong. It wouldn't be any better than what's been done to them already, and that's not to mention the question whether he'd even survive it. At least like this, he's still alive, even if he's away.
"No," Hunter responds flatly.
"He would have preferred it." Tech responds, and that, Hunter has to grudgingly admit, is probably the truth.
Tech was the first person that Wrecker attacked when his inhibitor chip activated. Hunter wasn't the only person that Wrecker could've killed – he would have gone through them all. And even if they knew from the start what was happening to Wrecker, it was still hard. It was... yeah. Hunter will never stop remembering the hurt look on Tech's face when Wrecker started strangling him.
Wrecker is often rough with him, but he never hurts him. Never.
"Maybe," Hunter says quietly. "I'll think about it."
They don't talk about it again.
He does think about it, though. All the time.
**w**
That doesn't mean he expected to get that chance. His hunger is itching again, burning and demanding. He wasn't hurt half as badly from the fall as he could have been. He could have died. It's a miracle he didn't.
His armor held firm, and the branches took the brunt of the fall, but he's exhausted and sore and aching everywhere. It's not as though he hasn't been hurt far worse before, but he hasn't fed since right after Bracca, and trying to ignore it is getting hard, period. He can't afford to eat more than normal. They don't have the resources, and he doesn't want to tip off his brothers.
He needs to find a way to distract himself, and just as much, he's trying to get a grasp on what's happening, because this is not normal. "Where are all the regs?" Hunter queries.
"When did you start caring about them?" Crosshair throws back, not that Hunter even expected him to answer that question.
"No Kaminoans either," Hunter states, scanning the halls – that's not something he can throw the same argument for. Not that they've ever been fond of anyone on Kamino, period. Though the lack of people, and the way the only ones he sees are escorting crates or the like, there's only one answer. And it's not one he likes – it just provides more evidence of what they found on Daro. "This facility's being decommissioned. You don't seem too concerned," he adds when Crosshair says nothing. He's probing, mostly, trying to get some sort of reaction. If they're decommissioning Kamino, it's something all clones need to be worried about.
And that, he would think, would be enough to make Crosshair think, if anything could. He doesn't know, but he has to try, because they're together again, and Hunter doesn't want to leave without him. He will if he has to, but he doesn't want to. Not again. Not...
"Why would I be?" How can he sound so calm about this?
"Because the Empire will be phasing out clones next," Hunter throws back, whirling around. He knows what's happening, and Crosshair must know, too – he isn't working with clones, and how can he not see that? And if Crosshair stays here, Hunter has no idea what will happen to him. And yes, he's angry – at the Empire, at the Kaminoans for doing this to him, and unfairly, a little bit at Crosshair himself.
Crosshair hits him with the end of the blaster, sharply – hard enough to shove him back a step.
That could just as much be psychological, too, though, because Hunter has no doubt Crosshair would shoot him if he found reason to. At this close range, the shot would... it wouldn't be fatal, probably, because vampires are very, very hard to kill. He remembers that from when they killed the rest of the coven.
Or most of them. Some might've survived.
"Not the ones that matter," Crosshair says, as if he could even think for one moment that the Empire would care about him.
But Hunter can't just leave him here. He's in danger here, and he will be, until he gets out. That wasn't true before. It wasn't until after Daro that Hunter realized, and if he stays, then...
They don't know what will happen to the clones, but it's the Empire. It's nothing good.
It's part through desperation, part through hunger, but his vampire instincts are kicking in again. Tech had said that... vampires can compel people, somewhat control them, but that's not something Hunter knows how to do, or would want to, even if he did. And the bonds that vampires have with each other are strong.
He knows that.
Had it, if only for a very short time, and he didn't like it.
But his brothers are his family, and he wouldn't have issues with feeling... overprotective of them. The loyalty and devotion tie both ways, and right now, Hunter can't think about anything short of how desperately he wants Crosshair back and that he would do anything to protect him, to keep him safe.
And he can't do that as long as Crosshair is still being controlled, something Hunter couldn't have known about or known to stop, but it still feels like he should have.
And it's just as much that he needs to get out of here before the others arrive, because he can't put them in danger. And Hunter can do it now.
He can't say the precise moment he stopped thinking and just moved, but Hunter snaps the binders off his wrists – they were made for people with normal strength, not vampire strength, after all. He rips Crosshair's blaster away – even if having to fight him hurts – because they cannot afford a blaster going off right now. Sounds might not draw attention, but blaster shots certainly would.
He knocks out the other trooper with a blow to the head, turning back to Crosshair, who's halfway reaching to his rifle.
And Hunter jumps him.
Crosshair makes a sort of gasp-yelp-snarl when they hit the floor, Hunter pinning him down easily enough. "Are you out of your mind?" he growls.
Yes.
Definitely.
He should stop because this will hurt and yes, Crosshair would understand, but that doesn't mean he'd like or want it any more than Hunter does. But all he can think about is that he's hungry, and this is Crosshair, and somehow, he has to get them both out of here. And yes, he could theoretically stun him and try finding a place on Kamino to get his chip out, but the risks are too great, and Hunter doesn't even know if he'd survive.
They nearly lost Wrecker during the surgery because his chip activated.
And they cannot lose Crosshair entirely.
Crosshair is still wearing his helmet, and Hunter wishes he wasn't just so he could see him again, even if seeing the cold anger in his little brother's eyes is gutting.
"Just hold still," he still has the presence of mind to request, and holding onto him is frustratingly hard. Moving will hurt.
"What –" Crosshair starts saying, as Hunter shifts a bit, ducking closer and biting, the raw desperation to just have him back burning through him. Crosshair lets out a gasp-hiss and jolts against him.
Hunter pulls his head back, whining faintly. He wants more, and he needs to stop the bleeding, which will be hard because it wasn't half as fast and clean as when he bit Tech. Crosshair was moving. Struggling, because he doesn't know what's happening.
The movement dislodged Hunter's grip on him though, and Crosshair flips them over, slamming Hunter onto the floor. "What did you do to me?" he growls, and he sounds almost as hurt as he does angry.
The shift hurt. Badly. It burned him inside out, and he – he just did that to someone else. To one of his brothers. "I –" Why didn't he think about how to explain this first? "I'm a vampire," Hunter supplies.
"You... what?"
"I turned you." The scent of blood is overwhelming. Just as much is Crosshair's – the thick, smoky fog that he always used to have, and it used to be so soft and gentle and soothing. It's overwhelming now, but Hunter wants it more, closer, to tug him closer and hold him and just breathe. For some inexplicable reason, his vampire instincts firmly maintain that feeding is supposed to be soothing, and seeing as Hunter has never been fed on before, he has no idea if that's true.
He doesn't really know how it could be, though Tech certainly didn't mind.
Hunter tugs one of his hands away from Crosshair's grip, reaching up to touch the bite mark.
Crosshair hits his hand away, snarling. "Don't touch it."
Hunter pulls back, stung, even if it's entirely fair. Crosshair has every right to be angry at him.
His heartbeat is picking up, pulsing faster. His breathing is picking up a bit, too. Crosshair's grip tightens to the point of being nearly painful before it just lets up.
Hunter remembers he nearly passed out right after it happened. Probably, that's happening to Crosshair, too.
He tugs his arms away, pushing Crosshair off him and sitting up.
The other Imperial still hasn't moved, though Hunter suspects they'll be waking up soon.
He feels uncertain about anything relating to Crosshair right now, period. He reaches up, anyway, to pull his brother's helmet off.
Half-conscious or no, Crosshair is still glaring at him.
Hunter doesn't let himself think about how much it hurts – it isn't as though it's unjustified.
He can feel anyone approaching, can hear them, too, and though there are some people moving around, none are close enough to worry about yet. Still, they need to – to find cover somewhere.
But he's still hungry, the itch gnawing deep inside him, and it won't stop. But feeding on Crosshair right now – or at all – would be wrong, and he won't do that even if he wants to. Hunter moves forwards unbidden, unable to stop himself, tugging Crosshair closer.
His half-conscious mind, at least, doesn't see Hunter as a threat, considering how fast he curls against him.
Crosshair told him not to touch it, but he needs to, anyway, and fueled mostly by the burning hunger and desperation, Hunter presses his mouth to the bite after licking the blood off – it's bleeding badly. Just like he was afraid it would.
It's hard to not actively feed, but Hunter just occupies himself with trying to slow the bleeding. And trying to keep it from making too big a mess. And trying to keep his own hunger from driving him crazy – multitasking. They're good at that.
Probably, they need to put bacta on it before it gets too bad.
He wraps his arms around Crosshair and just holds him, somewhat surprised by how he doesn't find it the slightest bit weird right now.
His little brother's hand reaches up unexpectedly, touching his arm. His touch is painfully familiar, so light and gentle and just him.
It – his blood tastes different, too. More like him. It's distinctly different from Tech's. It's not... vaguely metallic. It's softer, slightly less sharp and defined. It's sort of sweet in its own way, and the tiniest bit salty, which is funny, because this is, well. Crosshair. Of course, it is. But it's just so, so him, that Hunter clings to him until Crosshair shifts in his grip a bit, hand moving from Hunter's arm to his chestplate to push him off.
Reality crashes back on him the moment the contact is broken.
He aches to have it back, to pull Crosshair close to him again. Hunter can't quite read his expression. It's... not angry, not right now. It's a mix of confusion, hurt, and a bit of something else. "Did you turn the others, too?" Crosshair asks finally, dryly.
He feels himself flushing slightly. He almost doesn't know why he did that, but it was a moment of pure hunger and desperation. "No." How is he supposed to explain that? It's... a little too emotional for that. And he doesn't know if it will work yet, so Hunter doesn't want to risk showing weakness. Not yet.
Crosshair looks to the other, still unconscious, person in the hall. Hunter catches his gaze and sighs. Yeah, that's... going to be a problem. The pull is impossible to resist at first. They have to feed during the transformation. "You'll have to feed eventually," Hunter tells him quietly, guilt gnawing at him again.
He reaches out, taking Crosshair's hands.
Crosshair twitches, freezing and looking down. He just stares at their hands for a moment before pulling away altogether and standing. Some of the sharp, calculating anger is fading back into his expression.
It hurts to watch.
"Well," he supplies, "That won't be a problem."
**w**
Hunter is decently certain he didn't bleed someone dry right after his turning. Could be wrong, though. He doesn't want to think about Crosshair doing that, but he just did.
Knowing that's probably the lowest on the list of... unpleasant things he's done with the Empire doesn't help.
"Who was that?" Hunter queries finally, leaning against the doorway. He doesn't feel anyone right nearby, though it's been a while, and they need to hurry before the others get here. It can't be much longer.
"One of my squad members," Crosshair tells him flippantly, standing.
And you just killed him? Hunter wants to ask, but won't, because it's not as if he wouldn't have done it himself, probably.
"We should go," he supplies instead.
"Go?" Crosshair repeats, twisting around to face him. The storage closet they're in is dark, but Hunter can still see the tight scowl on his face. "There is nowhere to go, Hunter. Stay with the Empire, and you will have purpose again."
The disappointment that crashes over him is almost ridiculously overwhelming. "We're loyal to each other, Crosshair. Not some Empire."
He glares back. "You weren't loyal to me."
The words hit like a gut-punch. It feels true, even if it's – it's not. But still, they left him, and they shouldn't have. They don't leave their own behind, like Hunter told Omega. He should have found a way to get Crosshair from the start. "You tried to kill us," Hunter says finally. "We didn't have a choice but to leave."
Crosshair doesn't break his gaze, or his glare. "You were traitors to the Empire. You didn't give me a choice."
This entire conversation is hard. It's making him feel entirely raw and exposed, and he loathes it, but he owes this to Crosshair, either way. "That's why I'm trying to give you one now."
He scoffs. "By living on the run, in constant danger? Is that what you think is best for them, Hunter?"
It's so much like before when Crosshair spent the entire time going at him. And it hurts. Hunter can't stop questioning if this really is the right choice and he – he doesn't know. Crosshair has always been good with words, but that has always been on their side, not against them. It makes Hunter want to give in and apologize because he owes him that, but he fights that urge tooth to nail because if he cracks even the slightest bit, Crosshair will catch that and use it to tear him apart the rest of the way.
He sighs, trying his best to expel some of his frustration. "Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire is doing. Occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right."
"You still don't see the bigger picture, but you will," he replies, undeterred. He won't back down. Crosshair has never been that way, but this isn't him.
"Can't you see they're using you?" he argues, "It's that inhibitor chip in your head. It's making you follow their orders. That's what it was made to do, but this isn't you. We can help you." It's Hunter's probably only chance to change this before it's too late, and it's – it's everything he can think of saying.
Crosshair is watching him with a sharp, calculating gaze. It's only a moment longer before he pulls his helmet on and draws his blaster.
Whatever sherds of hope he had a moment ago is shattered, and he instinctively reaches for his knife. "Crosshair –"
"Try anything again, and I will shoot you," he snaps, leveling his blaster at Hunter's chest. "Now, move."
He swallows back the hurt, because dwelling on it is pointless, even if it doesn't fade. It's not betrayal if Crosshair can't help it, which he can't, but it still...
Feels like it.
He doesn't know why he thought this would help.
Doesn't fully know why he thought anything would.
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