miss_m_cricket | Fic: I Am The One

Title: I Am The One
Author:

miss_m_cricket
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot! / Doom Crossover.
Universe: Vampire!Reaper
Rating: PG-13 (Higher later)
Pairing: will be Reaper/Chekov, Kirk/McCoy
Disclaimer: Own neither Doom, nor Star Trek.

Summary: There have always been stories of Vampires, although they have not always been identified by that name. I was not a believer in them, rather consigning them to the fanciful notions of the uneducated or supremely superstitious. But myths have a basis in fact, and I should have remembered that...

A/N: Short prologue. Chapter one will be much longer and soulmatey...promise...

I Am The One

When I was a child I learned about Vampires, mythical creatures that had once been human and then became transformed into the undead. Something that consumed the blood of the living to survive. Monsters.

Of course people have tried to romanticise Vampires. Give them soul and humanity, even destiny. Gave them a fascination for beautiful human women, handsome faces, protective instincts, even sparkling skin.

Somehow people have always been fascinated by them.

There have always been stories of Vampires, although they have not always been identified by that name. I was not a believer in them, rather consigning them to the fanciful notions of the uneducated or supremely superstitious. But myths have a basis in fact, and I should have remembered that

~*~

I don’t sparkle.

Let me just get that off my chest straight off. Time has forced me to accept that I am what has become known as a Vampire, but I can tell you right now that moving in sunlight isn’t a problem; I don’t burn, I don’t sparkle, I’m not even that pale.

Mirrors? Can see myself just fine.

I don’t sleep in a coffin, but I do sleep. Or rather it is like sleep, not quite as deep as it was when I was a human, but I do sleep, and dream.

I can’t turn into a bat, unfortunately.

I cast a shadow, my fangs aren’t noticeable but they are there, and I don’t believe I am anymore attractive and alluring than the next person.

I think that’s everything out of the normal folklore.

What I do have? I have a keen sense of smell. I can smell who has been in a room, I can smell individual people, I can smell pain, hunger, love...all of those particularly strong emotions.

I can smell good...and evil.

~*~

Where to begin...

I suppose the day I truly accepted the fact that I was a Vampire, one of the living dead, was the day that Samantha died. She was my twin, my other half. She had been born minutes before me, had been there for every second of my existence, and while she lived I could pretend, pretend that everything was normal.

But looking in the mirror, before heading out to bury my twin, I was forced to accept this most unpalatable truth.

I had drunk blood, torn apart raw and bloody steaks, killed feral animals. But somehow had managed to convince myself I was still human, still mortal.

But that face looking back at me from the mirror had dark hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders, muscle tone and not a wrinkle in sight.

On the day I buried my twin I realised I had not aged a day.

And accepted what I was.

~*~

For fifty years I wandered alone and hunted down the worst of human kind.

The thing about blood is that everyone’s blood tastes different, and it also is affected by a little thing called consent. Blood freely given, offered with no coercion, that blood tasted pure and good, and if that person happened to be someone tasty well...

Stored blood, although consensually given when drained from the person kind of tastes like leftovers, food left uneaten for a few days and then nuked up in a microwave oven.

It satisfies, but less so than the fresh blood.

Blood of an enemy. Ah now, it isn’t disgusting or we Vampires would have been wiped out years ago...but it does have a sort of sourness to it. Like pickled onions. Tasty enough, certainly filling, but not exactly the most pleasant cuisine.

Fifty years is a while to get your mouth attuned to it though.

Eventually one of the Others found me. One of the original fleers from Olduvai, millennia ago. When humans had fled, a few of the superhumans had escaped too, unknowing of the fact their scientists had developed a gene not only for superhuman abilities but also for goddamn Vampirism.

~*~

I was hunting, slinking through a set of black garbage containers, stalking the man who was looking around nervously. He didn’t know what was following him, didn’t know his danger, but he did have an inkling that something was not quite right.

Preparing to strike I let out a soft snarl, letting him turn towards me in a position that would benefit my leap. I had readied myself, was about to lunge when something small dropped from the rooftop above, landing on my preys shoulders and breaking his neck in one neat movement.

“What the hell do you think you are doing,” I snarled, storming out from my hiding place to confront a tiny slip of a woman, with thick dark hair and feline shaped blue eyes, “You could have...”

“Been killed? Left some for you?” she grinned at me, exposing her fangs, which sent me rocking back on my heels, “Why honey, I didn’t drink, just expedited things along a bit quicker.”

She smelt like home, like warm fires, like a mother kissing your forehead before you go to sleep. She smelt safe.

It was Sky who explained all about Vampires, gave me the word to describe my acceptance. It was Sky who showed my new ways to hunt, to use my speed, my senses, my strength to new advantage. And I showed her things too. Like fighting.

It amused me how cranky she got when I could put her down in the dirt eight times out of ten.

But it was also Sky who first told me about my soul mate. And for that I could have very happily strangled her.

~*~

I suppose that is where my story really began, this tale of cliché Vampire love for a mortal.

At least I defied the normal expectations in some way.

I didn’t fall in love with a vulnerable delicate girl, with large waiflike brown eyes, who was already more than a little obsessed with me.

Oh no...

I’m never that goddamned lucky.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

thenefarius.livejournal.com

My test for whether I'll read a vampire fic... Nonsparkly vampires? Check. Okay on to the reading.

You ARE lucky Reaper, very lucky. Chekov is a BAMF.