Blood Moon

A/N: This was originally written as a roleplay between Foxy Digitalis and Neko Aconite, the two halves of Digitalis Aconite Crackfics & Fiction and has not been changed from its original format. If we receive enough comments or complaints about the layout of the fic, we will edit it accordingly. Thank you. :]
Christian Reichert © Foxy Digitalis & Nicholas Rose © Neko Aconite. Characters may not be used without the permission of their respective owners, but fanart is welcomed. X3

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LONDON, ENGLAND 1877

"Mein Gott," Christian called to the heavens, "what a night!"

A couple of men talking together outside a pub laughed in response to the disheveled young man swaying down the near-empty street. No doubt they thought he was just another overzealous drunken youth who'd had a mite too much fun at his own expense. Christian smiled to himself. They weren't too far from the truth. But instead of being drunk from whiskey or cheap ale, the young man was drunk on adrenaline and moonlight.

It was truly exhausting to be a werewolf during a full moon.

The sun wasn't due up for another three hours at least but Christian was too exhausted to care. Normally he wouldn't even entertain the thought of sleeping away precious moments beneath the glowing halo of an autumn moon - especially not a bright "Hunter's Moon" like this one that made even the darkest forests well-lit and easy to navigate. But the amount of energy he'd expended during the Hunt, combined with the added stress of learning to live as an immigrant away from his family in Germany rendered Christian weak. Even if he had wanted to shift into his wolven skin now, he couldn't. He simply didn't have the energy for it.

A ridiculously silly grin spread over the youth's features at the thought of how lucky he'd been tonight. Not only had he found a trio of fellow loners to hunt with - youths who had similarly recently left their natal packs - but he hadn't had to actually kill anything himself. Orion and Bellatrix had seemed plenty happy to do that themselves. Declan, the undisputed leader of the trio, had taunted Christian about his unwillingness to do anything more than nip at their prey's heels.

Christian had simply smiled.

He knew it was extremely unusual for the average werewolf to dislike killing and fighting or to get light-headed at the sight of blood in human form - not to mention the fact that he refused to hunt humans - but Christian had always been anything but average. "Abnormal" was a badge that he wore with pride. The youth's carefree smile turned grim.

But before he could muse too deeply over dark and dismal notions, Christian reminded himself that exercise was the last thing any part of his body needed, especially his brain. The stress and physical exhaustion of his body was slowly being echoed by a massive migraine. Christian groaned softly. It wasn't even daylight yet and he was already suffering the effects of a "moonlight hangover."

"Wonderful," the young werewolf growled to himself, "Just what I--Oof!"

Just then, Christian turned a sharp corner to head into a dark alley and plowed into someone. Too tired to stop himself from falling, he simply toppled over backward without a moment's pause. For a moment he simply stared upward as if he couldn't recall how he'd come to be sitting on his arse in an alley with a stranger standing over him. Then he remembered his place and promptly struggled to his feet, snatching up his ragged cap and jamming it back down on his head. Tangled honey locks fell with wild abandon about his shoulders, making him look nearly a century younger. Quite a feat considering the boy had recently reached his one hundred twenty-third year.

"My apologies, sir," Christian said instantly, giving him a shaky little bow. "I should have been more careful – won't happen again, I promise you."

Nicholas let his body move on autopilot, making his was down to the seeder parts of the city that he had frequented nightly for almost fifteen years. He’d learned quickly that he’d need a place where a few people could go missing and no one would blink an eye.

He wasn’t cold hearted but he was hungry. Picking off the weak and desperate could be seen as a gift to the masses in the new industrial age, ironically what made some peoples life’s easier made others wish for death sooner than would naturally come.

He’d fed yesterday and really should feed every day but it wasn’t completely necessary tonight, the only thing that had him down here was the cold crisp air making him feel colder than normal because of the lack of internal warmth.

He’d been walking almost all night already with the prospect of feeding getting smaller and smaller anyways.

Nicholas decided that he’d round the next building and head back up that parallel street.

It really was no wonder to him that at this point he’d likely make his way home without even seeing another being.

He allowed himself a small shiver that, though unnecessary, held the same comfort of mind that the action had. He was bloody cold, perhaps he’d never really get used to cold winters. He’d spent most of his mortal life in the south of Italy with his mother where the grips of winter never held strong.

Nearing the corner of the building Nicholas chanced a look up at the luscious blood moon, it was like a warm pulse in the chill of October.
Nicholas was jolted out of the moon’s thrall by a warm body knocking into him. Even some what weak from lack of feeding the collision merely forced him to take a step back in order to steady out. He hummed to himself, appreciating the warmth and strength coming off the young man who had made it back to his feet already. ‘He’s a foreigner’ he concluded from the accent his apology had. It was odd to think of some one that way when he was, in a sense, foreign too and had an accent as well. There was also the fact that no one would be looking for a foreign kid in this area of the city.
He was even hungrier than before.

“Ma certo… I don’t suppose you will,” Was his quiet reply.

He could tell that the teen was weak for whatever reason and would be unlikely to fight back much. Nicholas acted quickly letting the hunger guide his actions. With unearthly speed he’d latched onto his pray and began to pull him more into the alley he’d been stalking moments ago.

He was waiting for that opportunity to strike out and bite, normally he didn’t feed like this, he’d let the pray choose him not the other way around. There was less of a struggle that way. The opportunity was opening up when he got the first draft of something odd, not completely human. He locked chocolate eyes on his prey, glaring at the confusion the signal sent him while trying to comprehend the meaning of it.

If the signals were correct then… “You’re not human!” Nicholas accused pushing the younger being away but keeping close, finally looking the young man in the face.

Beautiful… But oh so dangerous.

Christian felt as if his arm was being torn out of its socket.

His attacker had snatched him by the wrist and dragged him forcibly into the shadows before he had enough time to blink, let alone call for help. The youth started to open his mouth but a hand clamped down over it, effectively silencing him. Christian's limp arms were yanked behind his back, held in place by a single hand. For a creature of such supernatural power as a young werewolf, the situation wouldn't have been nearly as terrifying if Christian hadn't realized just then how unnaturally strong his attacker was...

Adrenaline surged through his veins, panic rising like bile in his throat. It beat a frantic staccato beat in his chest and sharpened his senses so he could feel the hunger and excitement rolling off his attacker in waves. Christian's mind was whirling. He lashed out with his feet, kicking blindly, desperate to free himself by any means necessary. The hand gripping his jaw yanked his head to the side and for a heart-stopping moment Christian could look his attacker in the eye.

He felt - rather than heard - their breath simultaneously hitch.

The young werewolf stared at a pair of deep chocolate eyes, beautiful and hypnotic in the faint glow of the gas lamps. A shudder that had nothing to do with his current predicament rippled through his body. In that split-second of time that seemed to stretch on forever, he felt paralyzed. Absolutely nothing he had experienced before could have prepared him for this moment.

"You're not human!" His attacker released and shoved him away in a single fluid movement that took all of a second to complete. Christian staggered away, stumbling back against the opposite wall of the alley. His body still felt paralyzed. Either from the arresting stare of the beautiful man or his own weakness he wasn't sure.

"Mein Gott," he breathed, "A real vampire!”

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the vampire, his feral golden eyes wide and childlike. Swallowing heavily, he attempted to speak, the words spilling forth in a mangled mess of German and English. His accent was thick with fear.

"Bitte," he begged, hating himself for sounding so pathetic. But in this state, fighting was suicidal. "Please. Haben sie gnade. I am no threat. To you or your kind.”

Nicholas stared at the young looking man that was not a man at all as he listened to his pleas. This being was strong, that was for sure, but for whatever reason right now he was much weaker than even him.

He wouldn’t dilute his thoughts by assuming that he was more powerful than the werewolf and given different circumstances this being could have caused him a severe injury.

After all he was only 18 years a vampire, so very young in the eyes of the night.

He had yet to develop the stronger powers of vampirism such as mind reading and flight and could hardly go two days without blood before he was almost too weak to hunt. Really he did not want to harm his once prey anymore. Not only had he lost most of his blood lust, it upset him to see the terror in those golden brown eyes. It wasn’t like him to attack like he had; he’d lost control and would pay for it with that frightened look.
It was almost that “didn’t your mother ever tell you” type of feeling he had welling in his gut, demanding he apologize or do something to make it up to the other man.

Nicholas dreaded sounding foolish but he was too young to have pulled away from his mortal half yet. With a sigh he sagged his shoulders and pulling his eyes of that beautiful face. Maybe someday he’d regret this or perhaps he’d look back with a smile.

“Per favore, forgive me.” He implored letting his native accent sooth out the plea, wanting the frightened werewolf to understand that he was no longer a threat.

“Could I do anything to make it up to you, to take away your fear?” He really was grasping at straws trying to sooth not only his reaming mortal conscience but the terror reflected in caramel golden brown eyes. He let his arms hang loosely down at his sides and he was looking meekly up through his dark brown hair and heavy eyelashes.

Maybe his father would have left him in Italy instead of bringing him here to take over the family name had he known how soft his heart really was. It was easier to deal with now as a vampire but still one of his weaknesses.

In that awkward moment of silence that followed his plea, Christian felt sure that he was going to die here, in this alley, without having a snowball's chance in Hell of being able to fight back. His human body felt the effects of his full night as a wolf more keenly than he had expected. He would pay dearly for the pleasure of a night in his true form with at least two days of human-bound agony. Even now his muscles seized and cramped, feeling so stiff he could barely move despite his panic. The longer he sat slumped against the wall, the more he started to dread the paralysis seeping through every fiber of his leaden body. The young werewolf knew instinctively that soon he would be unable to move, despite his best efforts. The weakness a were feels after a full moon is different from that of a new moon, true, but this...this weakness was the result of reckless youth. In human years Christian may have been considered ancient, but in wolf years he was only two - still a teenager in were society.

And werewolf teenagers were known to be especially reckless.

So when the vampire began to apologize rather than sink his fangs into the neck of the foolish little werewolf he'd cornered, Christian was dumbfounded.

Like most werewolf children, Christian had been told horror stories about vampires that all boiled down to the same basic principle: they are enemies to be destroyed. Naturally, Christian took this to mean "avoid at all costs." He didn't much like the thought of monsters hiding amongst humans that could trick him into thinking they were harmless one minute and could be drinking his blood the next. He imagined vampires as ugly creatures, malicious and bloodthirsty. He never thought that they could be kind, let alone so polite.
He never imagined they would be so beautiful.

Swallowing heavily, Christian tried to work up his courage to speak. This could be a ruse, after all. A trick to ensnare him even further. But there was true - almost human - sincerity in the vampire's eyes. That's what finally made Christian believe he was no longer in danger. Emotion that pure is damn near impossible to feign.

"Home," he croaked, "Bitte. Ich kann nicht..." Christian paused, cursing under his breath in German. What was the word he was looking for? His grasp of the English language seemed to be deserting him and his accent was so thick it was damn near impossible for him to make out what he was saying, let alone the undoubtedly confused vampire. Christian blamed it on fatigue; it was hard to think clearly when his head felt as if someone was bashing a sledgehammer into it. After two years of forcible immersion in the English language, one would think that putting together a simple sentence such as: “I need assistance, please take me to the nearest inn or tavern” would be simple. But of course, given his current state, the phrase would simply not form no matter how hard he tried. Instead, the only thing he could manage was a single English word:

“Help.”

Nicholas saw the werewolf tense up even more and at that moment he knew either the were was getting ready to either attack or run away, which would not be as bad as the former. Watching for any indication that his once prey was going to make a move, he watched any emotions that went through the honey colored eyes. He wasn’t old enough or powerful enough to read minds but he’d been taught as a child that eyes hold the truth to a person’s emotions.

Finally the were worked out some words though his body remained tense. ‘Home’, he understood that but not the rest. He struggled for a meaning, ‘bitte’, it sounded like bite but he did know that word from his father’s business partners. Please, that’s what it was.

Frowning in thought, Nicholas tried his best to work on the poor wolf’s meaning, he also starting to pick up what seemed to be pain off of the were. He really hoped he hadn’t hurt him at all.

He really was an interesting find, when did a vampire ever see a werewolf, or at least live after doing so?

His thoughts had distracted him and there he was frowning at the desperate being in front of him. He wanted to growl at himself but that act of frustration had more or less been beaten out of him, it was beastly in his father’s eyes.

Now he was a beast though, a hunter of the night. It was odd how things worked out.

All of the wondering was not helping Nicholas and if he wanted to do something he had to do it soon, the sun would be up soon enough and he’d be dead at the first rays of light.

He could understand that the werewolf wanted to get home but hell if he knew where the man’s home was and it seemed like he needed help moving now that his muscles had locked up. If this was all Nicholas’s fault, he needed to fix it and that’s when he decided to take a werewolf home with him.
“Come with me, yes?” Nicholas asked while moving to help move the werewolf. “I will not… harm you.” Without waiting for any real permission, Nicholas gathered the younger man into his arms. He wasn’t close enough to home to wait around that close to morning, even if the sky had not started to lighten up yet.

For Christian, this night seemed to be progressing rather quickly from "bad" to "worse" in the blink of an eye. His English must have thoroughly confused the vampire - why else would he be staring so seriously at him? At a loss for words and completely unable to express himself in a language the vampire could comprehend, Christian clenched his jaw in frustration, willing away the urge to cry out of desperation. He didn't want to die like this. He didn't want this to be the end...

The vampire was speaking, words and phrases Christian barely understood flowing from that pretty mouth. The pain made everything so hazy. He focused on the body language rather than the words themselves, reading the intent behind what was being spoken. What the vampire was attempting to convey to him was surprising, to say the least. Concern. Fear. Help.

Christian locked onto that last nuance just as he was being lifted up by a pair of strong arms to be braced against an equally strong chest. The vampire wanted to help him. Imagine that.

Despite being able to sense the general intent of what his attacker-turned-rescuer was trying to tell him, Christian couldn't exactly divine his motives. It was still unclear to the young were if he was being saved out of compassion...or out of necessity. Maybe moving his body to a safer location would make it easier for the vampire to feed on him.

But even though warning bells were sounding in his head, telling him that being carried off by a vampire was the absolute LAST thing Christian should do, he couldn't help but feel...not exactly relaxed, but calm. It was strangely soothing to be held as he was, cradled in a way that made him feel protected. Secure.
It was this unusual, seemingly misplaced feeling of safety that signaled his body to let itself shut down. Just before his body went heavy and limp, Christian managed to whisper a last word to the vampire. He prayed with all his heart these wouldn't be the last words he would ever speak.

"...Danke."

With that, Christian's world faded into black.

Nicholas felt the quick relax of muscles in the body he held. He wasn’t sure what to think but Nicholas could only hope that it’d be okay when his werewolf whispered gratefully before slipping into unconsciousness. He ran his fingers through the messy blond hair of the werewolf and cradled the blond head against his shoulder.

A rolling fog was starting to grow in the dark streets of lower London and morning was just far enough away that Nicholas was only partly worried for his own safety. The hard soles of his shoes hitting the paved alley ways echoed of the walls surrounding them as he hurried back the way he’d come. He wasn’t at his peak strength due to the night’s fast but more or less it was not difficult to keep at a steady pace, one more day without feeding and none of this would have been possible.

There was more life in the streets of London as Nicholas finally reached his house. His breath was heavy and labored, the early effects of a vampire’s daily weakness.

Tapping on his own door with his barely useable hand, he waited, hoping the servants were awake or the butler was around. The sign of movement behind the door was a relief. Nicholas did not want to set the were down in his state to unlock the door himself.

A young maid answered the knock, her eyes gave away her shock at seeing her employer in his current state, but Nicholas avoided her in favor of getting the beautiful young wolf in his arms into a soft bed.

Hurrying up the stairs, he made the quick decision to place his charge in the first bedroom to the right, knowing full well that he’d have to answer to Alfred when he himself was awake again. Unless he left a note…

Fumbling through the room’s desk to find a pen he located one and scribbled out a nice message to his overly proper butler and left it at that.
Nicholas glanced once more at the figure lying on his bed before he left to find his own sleep somewhere dark and safe.