I'm moving/posting all future stories and updates to my community sparksoftempest.

I'm pleasantly surprised how easy this chapter flowed. We're quicky approaching the really porny bits, probably in the next chapter. I'm really excited to get those into a publishable form, and I hope I've set an acceptable overall pace. Hopefully my foreshadowing isn't to anvil-y!

Title: Sub Cubare 4/?
Author: amjacob
Rating: R
Word Count: 2000
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Sam, Dean/Buffy, Dean/Sam/Buffy
Spoilers: general season 4
Summary: Giles and Buffy help Sam identify the creature that bit Dean. Meanwhile Dean’s condition worsens. Supernatural/BtVS crossover.
Legal disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, I do not own Sam or Dean. If I did, I would be far too busy to ever write anything ever. I also do not own Buffy or the Scoobies.

( In which we discover Dean's tragedy )

Previous Next

It's been a bit longer between this part, and I'm not sure how long the next will take. I've actually been inspired lately. In rough form, I have over 15,000 words written, which is by far the longest story I've written in years. I'd say roughly 3/4 of the story is plotted out, leaving the ending and possibly some more meat in the middle to add.

Title: Sub Cubare (3/?)
Author: amjacob
Rating: R
Word Count: 2400 (this part)
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Sam, Dean/Buffy, Dean/Sam/Buffy
Spoilers: general season 4
Summary: Dean should know better than to let his guard down among strangers. Supernatural/BtVS crossover.

( Do sex demon bites get infected? )


Previous Next

Title: Sub Cubare (2/?)
Author: amjacob
Rating: R
Word Count: 1700 (this part)
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Sam, Dean/Buffy, Dean/Sam/Buffy
Spoilers: general season 4
Summary: Dean should know better than to let his guard down among strangers. Supernatural/BtVS crossover.

( Some plot, some pr0n, something for the whole family )

Previous Next

Title: Sub Cubare (1/?)
Author: amjacob
Rating: R
Word Count: 1200 (this part)
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Sam, Dean/Buffy, Dean/Sam/Buffy
Spoilers: general season 4
Summary: Dean should know better than to let his guard down among strangers. Supernatural/BtVS crossover.

( In which Dean gets a love bite he'll never forget )

Next

This is gonna be updated pretty infrequently, but I'm working on three stories based on Supernatural. Two are gen, one is a crossover/wincest/threesome/smut piece. So here's a preview of what's to come:

Fae/Sidhe - Inspired by various books of Irish, Welsh, and Scottish mythology I've read over the years. The Winchesters hunt what they believe to be a gargoyle, but it in reality something far more difficult to dispatch. Can really be set any time, but will likely be S4.

Banshee - Again with the Celtic myth, are we sensing a theme yet? This one is very much casefic as it could happen in canon. Set sometime in Season 2.

Crossover - BtVS crossover where Dean is infected with succubus venom; the toxin makes for some fun times to be had. Various pairings of Sam/Dean, Dean/Buffy, Sam/Dean/Buffy. I wish I could remember the story I read ages ago that gave me the idea for this.

All of these are multi-chapter, seeing as how I can't seem to write any one-shots no matter how hard I try.

Just dusted this damn thing off after what, over a year? Maybe I just need an outlet I can't get anywhere else at the moment. I've been meaning to reapply to WPI as a full time student, but I just keep putting it off. Fear of rejection? Or maybe I know that deep down I don't have what it takes, post-grad. If I don't go back then all the nice money my parents provide me gets cut off, so that's a huge incentive for me to get my butt in gear. The other option of course, is to get a real job, and honestly, that's still the more appealing of my choices.

So, anyway, I play World of Warcraft a lot (probably too much, but it's good times), and this weekend, my boyfriend and I are driving down to Philly to meet up with a bunch of the guys we've been playing with online for the past year and change. Supposedly there's going to be about 25-30 folks in attendance, and Dave's providing funnel cake, therefore all will be right in the world. No idea what else is going on during our stay, hopefully some hanging out, maybe getting some drinks and shooting pool or something.

As soon as I get back, I have to leave again, this time to visit my parents. I'm turning 24, and damn if I don't feel like I'm getting too old to be in school, too old not to have my own place, my own life. Visiting my parents isn't a bad thing in itself, and it'll be great to see my brother, but they just don't get me. So yeah, sometimes it's hard to deal with mom wanting me to be all girly or dad favoring my brother, but it's better than what a lot of others have, I'm sure.

I've been listening to Kane a lot lately, and I ordered both thier CDs a few days ago (hopefully they'll come before we have to leave for our roadtrip). They're a country/southern/rock group fronted by Christian Kane, who played my favorite character on Angel. I don't normally like country, but I do love the man's voice. It basically kick-started my re-obsession with Angel fanfic (yes, I'm kinda pathetic that way), so now I'm hunting down whatever I can find on the subject. Pictures too, becuase eye candy = good.

Almost done though, thank god. Now I'll just have to wait two hours for my next class. Joy.

I hit level 30 on City of Heroes last night (out of 50). I was excited. Now I just have to do the mission to get my shiny aura. Basically, when you hit 30, you can do a mission, then choose from a wide variety of auras. There are flames, energy effects, glowing eyes, etc. I have no idea what I'm going to get, but I can't wait to get it.

In far less cool news, I have no fucking idea how to do my finite element homework. Programming is the suck. Ask me to do this shit on paper, fine. Ask me to code it.... You'd be better off asking a rhino to talk. Ugh. So, if anyone has experience with programming in Matlab and wants to help me out, lemme know. I have to make a matrix from a bunch of other matrices. I totally hate this class. The other two are all right. Not great, but not bad. Next semester should be better. I hope.

Well, I had a major test today, that was fun...not! Okay, pardon the early 90's-ism of that last statement, and concentrate on the fact that my biomechanics class is the suck. I don't think I actally did a single problem correctly. I know there are parts of it I did correctly, but I have no idea how much partial credit that adds up to. Though I hear that the professor makes his tests that way on purpose, to make the curve easier for him, or some nonsense.

In other news, I only have to sit though one more class until I'm free for 2.5 days. Hooray! And lab was cancelled today, so I don't have to stay on campus until 5pm. Though I gotta admit, last week's lab was awesome. We got to cut up frogs and shock thier leg muscles. Hehe, I love biology stuff. So my weekend will be filled with much homework-grading, and much more City of Heroes.

Greg came home drunk the other night. Which is not unusual, but this is one of the first times I've been worried about him. He was so drunk, he was walking down the steps that lead to our condo (the entrance is on the second story), and fell to the driveway about 4 feet down. He got to bed alright, but when he woke up in the morning, he couldn't remember why he was sore. Oi. Evidently he didn't remember anything past 10pm or so (and he came home around 2am, on a school night, oi). I really hope he gets his act together.

John count is down to only a couple months or so. Which is still too much, in my opinion, but what can you do really? I will be visiting Boston for almost all of Christmas break though, so that'll be cool.

More later, I have to get to class.

Oi.

INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Copy this whole list into your journal.
2. Bold/underline the things that are true about you.
3. Whatever you don't bold/underline is false.

01. I miss somebody right now.
02. I don't watch much TV these days.
03. I love olives.
04. I love sleeping.
05. I own lots of books.
06. I wear glasses or contact lenses.
07. I love to play video games.
08. I've tried marijuana.
09. I've watched porn movies.
10. I have been in a threesome.
11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship.
12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy.
13. I have acne free skin.
14. I like and respect Al Sharpton.
15. I curse frequently.
16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year.
17. I have a hobby.
18. I've been told I have a nice butt.
19. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me.
20. I'm really, really smart.
21. I've never broken someone's bones.
22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal.
23. I hate the rain.
24. I'm paranoid at times.
25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar free.
26. I need money right now.
27. I love Sushi.
28. I talk really, really fast.
29. I have fresh breath in the morning.
30. I have semi-long hair.
31. I have lost money in Las Vegas.
32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister.
33. I was born in a country outside of the U.S.
34. I shave my legs.
35. I have a twin.
36. I have worn fake hair/nails/eyelashes in the past.
37. I couldn't survive without Caller I.D.
38. I like the way that I look.
39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months.
40. I know how to do cornrows.
41. I am usually pessimistic.
42. I have mood swings.
43. I think prostitution should be legalized.
44. I think Britney Spears is hot.
45. I have cheated on a significant other in the past.
46. I have a hidden talent.
47. I'm always hyper no matter how much sugar I have.
48. I think that I'm popular.
49. I am currently single.
50. I have kissed someone of the same sex.
51. I enjoy talking on the phone.
52. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants.
53. I love to shop.
54. I would rather shop than eat.
55. I would classify myself as ghetto.
56. I'm bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders.
57. I'm obsessed with my LJ.
58. I don't hate anyone.
59. I'm a pretty good dancer.
60. I don't think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington.
61. I'm completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother.
62. I have a cell phone.
64. I watch MTV on a daily basis.
65. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months.
66. I love drama.
67. I have never been in a real relationship before.
68. I've rejected someone before.
69. I currently have a crush on someone.
70. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.
71. I want to have children in the future.
72. I have changed a diaper before.
73. I've had the cops called on me before.
74. I bite my nails.
75. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club.
76. I'm not allergic to anything.
77. I have a lot to learn.
78. I have dated someone at least 10 years older or younger.
79. I plan on seeing Ice Cube's newest "Friday" movie.
80. I am very shy around the opposite sex sometimes.
81. I'm online 24/7, even as an away message.
82. I have at least 5 away messages saved.
83. I have tried alcohol or drugs before.
84. I have made a move on a friend's significant other in the past.
85. I own the "South Park" movie.
86. I have avoided assignments at work to be on Xanga or Livejournal.
87. When I was a kid I played "the birds and the bees" with a neighbor or chum.
88. I enjoy some country music.
89. I love my best friends.
90. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza.
91. I watch soap operas whenever I can.
92. I'm obsessive, anal retentive, and often a perfectionist.
93. I have used my sexuality to advance my career.
94. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all.
95. I know all the words to Slick Rick's "Children's Story".
96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy.
97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it.
98. I have dated a close friend's ex.
99. I'm happy as of this moment.

It's great when you're trying to put off everything else. I played a lot this morning. Took my druid from level 55 to 64 or something like that, in Act II of Hell difficulty. Eastern Sun is a really cool mod. Nice new uniques and class specific items, new magic modifiers, new cube recipies and runewords, and a few new skills. I really like Tornado for the Druid; finally a skill a Druid can solo with.

Anyway, I'm sad. I'm not loosing too much weight on my diet :( I guess I need to get up off my lazy ass and go run or something. Meh.

I havn't really written anything new. Well I have, but I can't get to it right now, since it's on a computer that isn't hooked up to the interweb. Thus I can't post anything new, for the 0.2 people who have read anything here. So, this entry will just be a "what's new with me" thing.

I'm just hanging out. July 23rd my brother and I are going down to New Orleans to get my new condo set up. Mom and I bought a bunch of kitchen stuff already, but I still need pots and pans. Grandma gave me some dish towels and stuff that she wasn't using, which was nice. I also got some cool towels for the bathroom from her. They're orange and yellow, which are a couple of my favorite colors. They're spiffy in a retro way.

I'm on a diet now, trying to lose 15 pounds. I'm down about 2.5 so far. Joy. I should probably do more cardio, but it's hard during the summer when all I want to do is read and play Diablo II.

I want to keep writing the Underworld fanfic, and when I have more written down, I'll post it. That should please my rabid fans. *rolls eyes*

Current mood: lazy
Now playing: nothing

Michael dreamed. It was the first time since he had become what he was. He tossed and turned fitfully as images of Sonja and Lucien flashed before him. He’d seen the worst of it before, when he’d been sick and hallucinating after he’d been bitten. What he saw now were images of a love that had lasted for years…before the Elder had destroyed it. They were scenes of contentment, of two lovers walking through a field at dusk, hunting together, and making love to each other. He missed that sensation desperately. His wife…but she was gone. He’d watched her die. What he felt for Selene…it was a pale flame compared to the inferno of that ancient love. Perhaps it would grow, given time.

Michael moaned as his dreams turned violent. The moon called to him, urging him—-no, the beast—-to hunt. To feel bones snap and muscle tear, to taste hot blood as the life drained from helpless prey. He might be a hybrid, but he was lycan first, and that would always be the stronger side of his nature. It could be that was why he felt so responsible for the decimated lycans. Lucien’s memories urged him to take command, but Michael wasn’t ready for that. The responsibility of ensuring the welfare of an entire species….

The moon called again, and his skin prickled. He dreamed he was in a dark chamber with a throne at one end and three metal seals imbedded in the marble floor. Each was intricately wrought, and emblazoned with a different letter. A, V…M. Marcus. Michael could feel his pulse quicken as he realized what this room was. The Crypt. Where the ancients slumbered when they did not rule, and ruled when they did not slumber. Yet now only one remained….

Blood pooled on the intricate seals, and drained into the area beneath them. Drained into the mouth of the last Elder, who opened his eyes. And Michael dreamed that they bore an uncanny similarity to his own. They were the eyes of a hybrid.

Michael awoke with a start, soaked in sweat. His flesh felt unnaturally cool and clammy to the touch. He had to know if he had dreamed truly, or if it was just the result of stress. He glanced over at Selene, who, despite her desire to stand guard, had fallen asleep in the chair opposite the door. Even in sleep she looked coolly in control. Michael smiled sadly as he gently lifted her onto the bed. Intellectually, he knew that she couldn’t feel the cold like he did, but he covered her with the blanket nonetheless.

There was only one window in the room, and it faced the darkened street two floors below, ideal for viewing passers-by and keeping watch for any who might wish them harm. Michael turned the chair to face the narrow window and sat down, watching the rain drizzle down.

He was deeply disturbed by his dreams. The visions of Lucien and Sonja he knew to be true, actual flashes of their past together…but the dreams of Marcus, the slumbering Elder? It seemed impossible. Although he didn’t know much about vampires, he had never seen any evidence to suggest that they were telepathic. And yet he had dreamed in such perfect detail, it had not felt at all like a dream. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the blood-soaked seal in his mind. It hadn’t felt like a dream, but it hadn’t felt like a memory either. However, if it had happened, and there was another hybrid in the world, Michael would soon have a powerful ally…or an unbeatable enemy.

Michael knew they couldn’t hide in this place forever, constantly watching their backs, and he was slowly coming to the realization of what that meant for him. Sometimes he could almost hear Lucien in his mind, pressuring him to lead. Fine, he thought forcefully at the mental apparition. You want me to take control? I’ll start with this damn dream.

It was nearly daylight, a time when most of Ordoghaz slept, avoiding the deadly sun. Perhaps he could find a way inside.

He looked regretfully at the sleeping vampires. She’s be pissed when she found out he’d gone off alone. Fuck it. It was time he started running his life again, instead of running for it. Throwing on his days old, still damp clothing, Michael silently slipped from the safe house, taking care not to awaken Selene. Good thing I learned to drive a stick, he thought as he hopped into the new Jag and sped off toward the Devil’s House.

A lycan a full foot taller than him lunged forward, claws extended. Derek sidestepped smoothly, allowing his opponent to rush past him. But five hundred pounds of pure animal instinct wouldn’t be deterred so easily, as his challenger changed course, using his forward momentum to make a dive for Derek’s legs. His vision reddened as claws found and tore flesh. “First blood to Remy Garroux,” called out Shred, the mediator for the match. Derek recovered quickly from Remy’s assault, and viciously counterattacked. Derek’s open handed blow caught the other lycan across the stomach, cutting deeply enough to give Derek a glimpse of slimy innards.

Blood flowed freely from their wounds, which would soon cause them to tire. Derek knew he had to finish his rival quickly, lest he lose his ever so slight advantage. In battle, a person’s luck could change in less than a second. Even in a traditional battle to establish dominance it wasn’t unheard of for there to be fatalities. Death was a very rare occurrence though, as lycans were notoriously quick healers.

Derek growled low in his throat as he gazed up at his opponent from a safe distance. Remy was lager and more muscular than him, but Derek was much faster. In a fight to third blood, sometimes agility and wit won more battles than brute strength. Derek’s sides heaved, but he forced himself to concentrate. There! His challenger was favoring his left leg. He must have wrenched it when he dove, thought Derek.

He let his lupine instincts take over as he circled his target. Remy had known too many battles and was too experienced a fighter to let Derek get behind him…which was exactly what Derek had counted on. When the rival lycan shifted his weight to his injured leg, Derek lunged. It was over in less than an eye blink. Derek’s jaws sank into the meat of his opponent’s shoulder and his claws grazed Remy’s back.

“Third blood to Derek Constantine,” called Shred. “We have a new leader, proven in combat…unless there are more challengers?”

No one spoke. Derek almost sighed in relief. He had been in nine other matches today before this last one against Remy, and he was ready for it to end. He was ready to sleep for a week, too, but the pack was regarding him expectantly, waiting for him to give them orders, to fill them with purpose. For six hundred years they had fought to bring retribution to the Bloods, seeking revenge on Lucien’s behalf. They owed it to him for freeing them, for taking care of them, for leading them. For teaching them to survive on their own, and allowing them to realize that they weren’t inferior to anyone.

The deaths of Lucien and the vampire Elder didn’t really change anything. The war wasn’t over…and the lycans had to be prepared for another attack.

With practiced ease, Derek slipped into his human form. It was like putting on a well-worn set of clothes. It was comfortable, but not as satisfying as being naked, as being the true, primal self. Derek’s olive eyes gazed out at the sea of faces around him. He was silent a moment, drawing all attention to him. He prayed for the strength to be a great leader, like Lucien.

“Nothing has changed,” he began, projecting his voice so that it echoed in the soul of every lycan present. “We are still hunted, and therefore we must still be ready to meet the vampires in battle. But we will not make it easy for them. They have found our den, so we cannot remain here much longer. But before we leave, we must honor those who have fallen here, who have given their lives to protect the rest of us. There are brothers and sisters we will never see again.

“I’ll need volunteers to gather the bodies of our fallen comrades, so that we can lay them to rest.”

A few men stepped forward, warriors, for the most part. Men who had watched friends and family die. Derek nodded to each one, then turned and headed in the direction of the tunnels, ignoring the fatigue from the night’s challenges. He could rest later. Much later. For now…he had a responsibility to fulfill.

Derek grunted under the combined weight of the corpses he dragged behind him. Damned Bloods, he thought, kicking a mutilated body out of his path. The tunnels were littered with the remnants of vampire and lycan warriors. An arm here, a torso there…and blood everywhere.

Let the Bloods rot here. They brought this on themselves. Derek didn’t look back; he’d seen the carnage many times during his numerous trips down the tunnel to retrieve his fallen comrades. So many of his pack gone. So many…he’d known them for centuries…and he’d never see them again.

A savage kick launched a severed vampire head against the tunnel wall. Derek heard a satisfying plunk as gravity worked its magic, splashing sewage on his thigh. He ignored it, continuing his slow, methodical pace toward the abandoned subway station where the remaining members of the pack awaited.

The physical labor had eased his mind slightly, but it had reopened his many small wounds. Bite marks and deep scratches seeped blood, leaving him with only pleasant, tingling warmth. He’d long ago learned how to force his body to perceive pain in that way, so as not to debilitate him when it mattered.

A lycan a full foot taller than him lunged forward, claws extended. Derek sidestepped slightly, allowing his opponent to rush past him. But five hundred pounds of pure animal instinct wouldn’t be deterred so easily, as his challenger changed course, using his momentum to make a dive for Derek’s legs. His vision reddened as claws found and tore flesh, but he recovered quickly, and brutally counterattacked. Derek’s blow caught the other lycan across the stomach, cutting deep.

Blood flowed freely from their wounds, and that would cause them to tire. Derek knew he had to finish his rival quickly, lest he lose his advantage. In battle, a person’s luck could change in less than a second.

The midnight black limousine pulled up beside the ancient mansion long known as Ordoghaz, the Devil’s House. Those who stood outside to greet it were filled with both anticipation and apprehension. For all that they were the eldest remaining vampires of the European coven, Viktor’s child and one time pupil was legendary for his strength in battle and his quicksilver temper. Hence the shadows; men and women draped in black leather and trained for centuries in the martial arts. The Death Dealers were on hand to handle things if either side happened toward violence.

It should have been an honor, thought Gerald, gazing through the tinted window of the limo. He was the eldest vampire awake now, the heir to Viktor’s throne. It was his duty to perform Marcus’ Awakening. Only he and a few others truly knew the way of it. Knew how to channel a lifetime of memories into a form the Elder could comprehend. It should have been an honor, and they should be welcoming him with relief and gratitude. Yet these sniveling weaklings trembled at the very thought of him. It mattered little. Once his task was performed, he would return to his seclusion. This century was so trying, so quick moving…. But the vampire was a master at adaptation. It had to be, in order to survive the millennia. Gerald would ease himself into it slowly, and savor the new cultures that had arisen from the ashes of civilizations long gone.

As the driver opened the door, Gerald could overhear the gasps of decadent aristocrats, and could almost sense the tension in the Death Dealers. They weren’t prepared for his appearance. Why should they be? He’d had no reason to show himself for ages, not since his falling out with Viktor. But he did not hide his face. The scars he bore were a brutal reminder to all present of just what he was. The steel armor was a reminder of what he lived for. He was a warrior. And there was no vampire now living who had ever bested him.

“L-lord Gerald,” blubbered one, a beautiful man who more than likely had the brain of a tit mouse. Vampire aristocrats were all the same, all appearance and flash, with nothing to back it up. “It’s an honor, truly,” he continued, offering his hand in the age old gesture of peace. I have no weapons, he said, without saying a word.

Gerald couldn’t help but sneer slightly at the man. If it is such an honor, why are you all running scared?, he mused. No, not an honor at all. A necessity. They would have left him to his isolation if there had been but one among them who was capable of performing the ceremony. Gerald ignored the proffered hand, brushed by the throng of sniveling aristocrats, and entered into the mansion proper.

Decadent, he thought. There was no other word for the overstated opulence of the great hall. Those who dwelled here had likely never known struggle, or seen war first-hand. They were unworthy of being called vampires. They were little better than lycans, in fact, their one-time guardians turned fierce rivals. Some days he thought they were more undeserving even, for at least the lycans showed their fangs. But those days were few and far between.

It had been more than a century since he’d been inside Ordoghaz, and underneath the trappings of debauchery and the addition of modern technology, it hadn’t changed at all. He certainly didn’t need the pitiful cretins who called themselves vampires to show him the way to the Crypt, or point out Marcus’ resting place. He had been a frequent visitor here, in the past. Until the day Viktor had taught him a lesson he’d never forget. After that day, Gerald had left the mansion, thinking that he’d never return. And now Viktor was dead. He didn’t know if it was odd that he felt no grief. The Elder had given him the gift of immortality, had taught him and guided him for more than a thousand years. And yet some things were unforgivable.

He was saddened by Amelia’s death, but moreover, he was angered. She had been like a mother to him, once upon a time, just as Viktor had been like his father. Though she hadn’t really been that much older than him, Gerald had always looked up to her. She’d possessed the immortal grace that the aristocrats in the mansion could never hope to possess in ten thousand years. And she had a quick mind. She’d been a princess once upon a time, schooled in history and art, mathematics and warfare.

Gerald’s fist clenched as he thought about her death. Ripped apart by rabid, slobbering, mangy man-beasts…and helped by Kraven, the vampire Viktor had trusted to run the European coven while he slumbered. Blood welled from cuts made by his sharpened fingernails as he thought about the fate that awaited the traitor. Vengeance would be sweet, and slow torture so much sweeter.

Somehow, lost in thought, his feet still remembered the way to the Crypt, and Gerald found himself at the glass doors that indicated the entrance. One glance at the man behind the monitor screens and the doors opened. He stood before the bronze locking mechanism that sheltered the Elder’s coffin, then knelt and twisted the stylized M. Gerald could smell traces of blood on the floor of the room, which he could only guess came from some prisoner Viktor had tortured. The Elder warrior was always big on that kind of thing. It had an odd tang to it though…lycan blood perhaps.

It matters not, for now. Gerald had to concentrate now, to focus the memories of what had passed since Marcus had last reigned. It was a simple enough procedure: focus the thoughts, organize them chronologically, and transmit them to the blood. Yet it took more concentration than most vampires could muster in their long lifetimes.

A final click and Marcus’ coffin was rising from its resting place. The Elder looked much better than he had any right to, after two hundred years. Gerald pressed the release mechanism and rotated the coffin so that it was parallel to the floor, exposing the tube that would carry his blood and memories to the Elder. Gerald cleared his mind of everything except the past events as Marcus should view them. He then drew a finely crafted silver dagger from its sheath and slit his wrist, allowing the blood to drip into the collector. He traced its path down the length of tubing and finally into Marcus’ mouth.

The ceremony was complete. Now, all that remained to do was wait until the blood took effect and the Elder awoke to reign once again.

A large vial, filled with some cloudy liquid. A few drops of bright red blood added to the vial and stirred. If only there were more…

A face, twisted with awesome fury and unquenchable rage. Viktor’s face. A taloned hand flying toward his face. Intense pain.

Blood mixing with liquid, turning black. The ill-fated, awful black of failure once again.

The face of a young man. An American. Longish light brown hair and hazel eyes. Still young, for a mortal. A descendent of Corvinus.

A leather-clad Death Dealer, armed with identical Beretta pistols filled with poisonous silver rounds. Bullets exploding through flesh, screams of agony.

Blood in the vial, mixing with the liquid…and turning purple. Success! Lucien will be pleased. We possess the key now…

Marcus’ eyes flew open, yet they perceived only darkness. He tasted thick, strange blood on his dry, weathered lips—like nothing he’d ever tasted before, not in millennia of life. Not human blood for certain, yet not the rich elixir of vampire blood either…but somehow similar. Lycan blood? But how was that possible? The Crypt was guarded day and night. Not to mention that their two races had been at war for centuries. What could a lycan stand to gain from awakening an Elder? A lycan…scientist, at that?

The memories the blood had bestowed upon him were fragmentary and incoherent, but Marcus was able to grasp enough to make a few things frighteningly clear. The lycans had been toying with creating abomination—a hybrid. The very thing which had incurred Viktor’s wrath and begun the war in the first place. The other thing that was evident was that the lycans were very, very close to success. The American...Michael. For some reason, he was the key. Corvinus…. Just like Marcus.

Did this lycan conspiracy extend to him as well? Perhaps. He just didn’t have enough information. Amelia would be here soon enough, though…for surely someone must have seen the man-beast sneak into the Crypt, or at least the evidence of it. Surely he didn’t have long to wait…. Surely?

“It’s not over.” Her voice was cold and matter-of-fact. It reminded Michael of glass, actually, that tone. Truth passed through it, but no emotion. He supposed that she had grown used to hard truths over the centuries. But that didn’t change the fact that life as they’d known it was over for them both.

“No,” he agreed breathlessly. He knew as well as she that it was just beginning—better, even. She had lost her home and father figure, while he had lost everything that was familiar to him—even his humanity. He was something new, and he was sure that even with the Elder vampire dead, there were those out there who wished him the same. That was a sobering thought. He’d been a doctor, devoted to saving lives…and now? What was he now? Just some sort of freak.

Michael glanced over, watching Selene grip the steering wheel of her new Jaguar (it seemed that even on the run, Selene had infinite resources) with such force that her already pale knuckles were bone white. She may have grown accustomed to hard truths, but that didn’t make them any easier to bear. Centuries of life didn’t teach a person to deal with something that couldn’t be dealt with.

“We can’t go back to the mansion. Even with Viktor…especially with Viktor…. They won’t allow us to live.”

“I know,” replied Michael quietly. It was taking all his strength not to ask the question that burned in this thoughts from the moment he’d become…whatever he was. What are we going to do now? He wouldn’t ask it, wouldn’t put it to words, but he knew they were both thinking it.

They were little more than strangers still; strangers who shared and inexplicable connection. They had sacrificed so much for each other, and yet it wasn’t over. By killing Viktor, Selene had avenged her family’s murder, but it had made her forever outcast from the vampire nation, from the only people who had a chance at understanding her.

Michael, on the other hand, didn’t mind uprooting his life and moving somewhere no one knew him. He’d done it once before, after all. After her death. He’d left New York and moved here, to Budapest, a city where he could forget. Or try to let go and move on, whatever. Or lose himself so deeply in work that the feelings of loss were distant, as if they belonged to another person.

No, he didn’t mind restarting his life…but he couldn’t help feeling responsible for the lycans. Maybe it was some remnant of Lucien’s memories, or perhaps it was that he knew that it was the fallen commander’s last wish. Either way, something inside Michael didn’t want to abandon them to the Death Dealers, who he knew would come. They knew no other way.
And yet he wanted—needed—to be near Selene. She was his anchor, his solid ground in the middle of a vast dark ocean that begged to swallow him whole and keep him forever. And he got the feeling that he would become her anchor as well, in a way. At least, that’s what he dared to hope.

A thought occurred to him all of a sudden, and he chuckled. The pale Death Dealer glanced over at him like he was crazy. Perhaps he was. “Sorry,” he responded. “It’s just…you’re driving.” A blank look was his only answer. “I mean, you’re driving, and we have no idea where we’re going. I guess that just…I don’t know. It’s ironic, or something.”
Selene turned back to the road. “I’m taking you to a safehouse,” she replied, her accented voice betraying no emotion.

“Jesus Christ, another one? You going to chain me to a chair this time too?” he spat, slightly bitter. “Are we actually going to be safe this time?”

“There’s nobody following us. I’ve checked. No one knows where we’re headed, and I can’t see any reason for them to search for us there. We’ll be safe enough.”

Michael was relieved that they weren’t leaving the city; though he wasn’t sure he trusted Selene’s assurances of safety. He looked out the window of the Jag, up to the nearly-full moon. It was waning, but he still felt it calling to him. He knew all he had to do was reach out to it, and he’d become that…thing…again. The monster that now dwelled just under his skin. He didn’t want to become that thing ever again, but to save Selene…he’d Change in a second. The beast in him had marked her for its own. She was his to protect in a way that had nothing to do with reason, and everything to do with instinct.

She was always so calm, like nothing in the world could faze her. Michael often wondered what went on behind her chocolate orbs, and most of the time came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to know. What happened to a person when they lived in a society that wouldn’t accept weakness? When they had lived that way for centuries? Sometimes he imagined that Selene had forgotten how to feel anything. He understood that, at least. After losing his wife, he’d wanted to do the same.

But then he would catch a fleeting glimpse of something in her eyes, some hot emotion, and he knew again why he needed her so badly.

Just checking this thing out. I have my blog currently at blogger.com, and I'm debating whether or not to switch it over. Whatever, guess I'll keep both and decide later.

Visited my boyfriend's sister this weekend, saw an awesome improv show with them. Good times had by all. I had to sleep on the floor though, meh. It was alright, I slept better than I thought I would.

Lotsa work to do this week. Seeing as how it's nearly the end of the term. MQP is way too much work for a normal person, plus IQP on top of that. I have to futz around in Photoshop tomorrow to make buttons for the IQP website. It shouldn't take too long, really. I have an idea of how to do them already. One of these days I'm going to make myself a completely amazing webpage... Haha, see, I jest.