#shaffland

May 14th, 1921

The sound of a fist pounding on the wood of his door startled Fred from the brink of sleep. 'Motherfucker.' He thought to himself. It must have been damn near 8 o'clock at night. The sun was beginning its routine of settling below the horizon, and he had shit to do in the pasture tomorrow. He only had a brief moment of peace before he heard someone calling for help on the other side, their voice hoarse.

Fred couldn't tell if it was just a deep voiced woman or a man outside through the panic of his tone. He decided right then, it was likely someone trying to rob them, thinking they could singlehandedly bring back the era of cowboys and robbers. Fred was about to ignore the pleas at the door, but unfortunately, he had a roommate— a devoted christian, of all things. Brian was, admittedly, quite important to Fred, crazy as he could be. Even while he was rambling on about how the devil himself would come up from hell and drag them both down if they didn't help a stranger, he quietly admired without any argument as he watched him quickly open the door.

Every inch of humor and doubt drained from his face at the state of the man on the other side of the door.

He was burned, badly at that. Smoke still seemed to be coming off of him, the heat of whatever was left of the fire that caused his injuries having left glowing embers on his skin. He was shaking, on his knees, pleading for the two to help. Neither one of them could understand fully what was wrong as he begged to be let into their home. It was only when Fred approached, grabbing his shotgun on the way to the door to point it at the stranger, who immediately flinched and pleaded for him not to shoot.

"Slow down, what's happening?" Fred hears Brian beside him ask, gesturing for Fred to put his gun down. Fred, still paranoid they were going to get robbed, refused, only poking the man with the barrel of his gun, urging him to answer. He swears he sees a hateful glare from the other, one that does not match his fearful act he had put on.

"There's people after me, they killed.. " He starts, voice shaking as he cradles his head in his arms,"I'm from a farm down the road, a whole group of 'em came. I don't know what they were there for, but they lit the place on fire while me and my wife were sleepin'." He started sobbing, clutching Brian's pant leg,"Oh god, please help me! they killed my wife, I got a kid staying with my momma right now, don't leave her without a father!"

Fred knew it was over once the man mentioned a daughter, on account of Brian having one of his own— a baby girl, no older than a few months. Regardless, Brian also had a bleeding heart. The church he ran doubled as a shelter for the sick and homeless with nowhere to go. Fred loved that about him, even if he wasn't a huge fan of him immediately ushering the stranger inside, who immediately rushed away from any and all windows to hide in a dark corner, almost like a scared cat. Brian ripped the gun from Fred's hands, setting it back on the wall mount by the door. The commotion of an almost slammed door and Brian bumping the butt of the shotgun on the wall must have been louder than both of them realized, considering the sound of a crying baby piercing the otherwise quiet upstairs.

"Shit, can you go comfort her? I'm gonna run down to Wes's place to see if he has anything for burns." Brian asked the other, who immediately nodded. He loved little Jennea, he'd never say no to the chance to hold her. Brian grabbed his shoulders.

"And find out what his name is, the stranger. Don't scare him either. He's been through enough." He demanded, making the other swear to him he'd be nice before rushing out the door.

It was only after the other had gone out the door that he noticed the eerie silence that replaced Jennea's cries. He also noticed the man had moved from where he was hiding in the corner. Fred felt a ball of anxiety fill his gut upon his realization, grabbing the gun once more and rushing up the stairs. He opened the door to the room her crib was in, aiming his weapon to shoot. However, the sight in front of him left a cold, dark pit in his stomach.

There in front of him, the burned stranger was...

. . . .

Cradling the baby in his arms, humming a song Fred had never heard before, soothing the baby from its fearful shrieking into a playful giggle. He cooed right back at the small one with praises of how cute she looked, letting her hold his finger.

That wasn't what worried him, however. What worried him was what the baby seemed to be laughing at. This.. thing he couldn't even call a stranger due to his uncertainty of it being human, had a smile he'd actually call handsome— that is, if it wasn't for the canine teeth that looked more akin to one of the wolves he'd shot trying to kill the sheep in the pasture. His skin, which was once covered in burns, was almost completely healed as he stood just outside the sunlight still spilling through the window. His nails were long, much longer than they had been when he was clutching Brian's pant leg moments before. They were like claws, his pointer one dangerously close to scratching the child. As if he could read his mind, the stranger looked towards Fred, a red glint in his pupil that caught the light so strangely it looked as if it was glowing, and retracted the claws, deciding to speak.

"You sure like pointing that gun at people. Pretty rude, considering the favor I just did for you." He spoke, voice smooth and calm with a hint of melancholy as he turned, stepping closer to him with the baby still in his gentle hold, gently bouncing her on his arm.

"What the hell are you?"

"..That's for you to decide. I've been called a lot of things, Mr. Durst." He said with a smile, bumping Fred's shoulder as he walked past, almost like he owned the place. The mention of Fred's surname sent chills down his spine. However, he still followed, perhaps out of a morbid curiosity, perhaps out of hope he'd catch this... thing off guard.

"Alright then, you werewolf fuck. You gon' kill me?" Fred asked, sitting across from the stranger once the two had made it to the living area, who merely laughed at the name the other had chose.

"Well, that's new... Not a werewolf, though, those aren't real." He noted casually, as he made his way to a handmade rocking crib nearby. It was something given to Brian by a lady old enough to be his grandmother. They'd use when she was fussy during dinner, that way they could both still ear together. James continued humming the song for a moment, allowing for the child relaxing back into sleep before speaking once more as he made his way to sit on the nearby couch.

"Vampire."

"Wow, what a difference."

"Either way, no. Not yet, at least. I haven't ate since I dropped into this shithole but you two showed me hospitality in my time of need, so I'll let you ask a few questions before I eat." He chimed, staring right into the depths of Fred's body. Fred felt like his very pulse was being watched, and he was sure it was just based off the hugry gaze of this monster.

"What's your name?"

"James."

"How long you been a vampire? How old were you when you turned?"

"Stopped counting after about... three hundred-fifty? I was 34 when I got turned, I think."

"are you gonna kill Jennea?"

"Hell no, I don't eat children. I even avoid people my previous victims were close with, if I can. Just you tonight. Beautiful name for the baby, by the way."

He had half a mind to start running and never look back. He could make it to Wes's place with the baby, tell them both what happened, and they'd treat it all like some bad dream. He still had his gun in arm... it'd only take a moment to put a bullet in this freak and book it down to Wes's house, but he stayed put. For now.

"I have another one for you... more personal." Is what Fred started with. He could see a slight twitch of the muscles in James's face, a small dip of the head and a gaze so piercing, Fred had forgotten how to speak.

"...My wife's name was Evis." James responded after some thought, surprising Fred. How could he know the exact question he was going to ask?

"We had a baby girl... I forget whether her name was Carmella or Heart, its been such a long time." The vampire starts,"The people we shared a town with didn't take kindly to us, thought we were Lilith and Lucifer, on account of our lack of age over time."

"She was one too?"

"The one that turned me."

"...What happened to her? What about the kid?"

"That doesn't concern you." He responded, clearly more aggressive than he intended to. 'He's hiding something.' Fred thought to himself as he watched the muscles of the other's face twitch, irritated. Definitely a mind reader, he only seemed to grow angrier the more Fred poked holes in his story. This was an opening, in Fred's eyes... If he was going to run, he had to throw this fiend off his game— had to make him mad. Sure, it might end up in a more brutal death if he gets caught, but he wasn't going to. He'd make sure of that.

"I'm dying anyway, what's it matter? Is there something you don't wanna admit to?" Fred immediately shot back, staring the other down as if the roles had suddenly been switched— as if Fred wasn't the prey anymore.

"I think we've had enough questions for tonight-" James started as his nails grew to the length they had been while he was holding the baby. 

"I think you're scared to think about it, James. You're scared because thinking about it only fills you with remorse. You killed 'em both, didn't you?" Fred interrupted with a taunt. 

He knew he fucked up the moment he felt the crimson gaze of the vampire land on him, an untapped anger burning holes into his very skin, burns worse than the ones he saw on James when he was pleading at their door. The moment Fred saw movement, he lifted his shotgun from its resting position, pulling the trigger without another thought. A good half of his face exploded on the wall behind him. The body falling to the floor... He looked dead. 

'Fffffffuuuuuck this guy was just messing with me.' Fred immediately thought to himself, his breathing irregular as he tried to figure out what to do, the wailing of a startled infant only making matters worse. He just shot a guy, he had no idea what the fuck he was going to about the body or the pooling blood on his floors or the sudden disappearance of someone's drunk ass nephew or some shit. Whatever, he had to get out of here first, with Jennea... thank God James had brought her downstairs for him, at least... she was wailing... the sound of the shotgun had startled her. Fred felt awful....

Just as he started rushing to the rocking crib to console her, he felt a sharp, debilitating pain shoot up his calf, causing him to cry out in pain and collapse. He could feel the coolness of his own blood pooling around his ankles as he desperately struggled to stand... He was scared to look, scared to realize the truth of what had happened to his legs, however after psyching himself up for a moment, he pushed his upper body up with his arms, slowly looking down at the scene.

It was a gruesome sight... there were claw-like slashes on the back of his legs, especially around the back of his ankles. The gashes made It look as if his foot was about to fall right off... and behind him, where the body of James had been, was now simply a blood-stained pool on the ground. He had barely acknowledged the lack of a corpse when he felt a swift kick to his arm from behind. He could feel the bone snap and fold in on itself, forcing another yell of anguish from him as he collapsed once more.

"Y'know.." The vampire started again, staring the shorter of the two down as he attempted to crawl away with his remaining arm, a smile on his face that Fred couldn't quite read. 

"I'm from a time before your love for another man... Brian... was deemed an irredeemable sin. I was just a teenage boy when the catholics came and drove their views so far into our throats we couldn't tell if it was us speaking their verses or them speaking through our mouths. Point is, I'm not judgin' you for loving him. He loves you too." He continued, voice holding a reassuring tone that reminded him of his mother's when he'd wake up from a nightmare as a boy. This brought tears to his eyes... it felt so wrong coming from him, gaze so mocking as he watched the futile attempts of Fred trying to escape him. Fred hated every word that spilled from his mouth.

"Go to hell!" Fred spat at him, looking right into that apocalyptic stare the vampire was burning him with... fuck it. Fred was going to die, might as well go out giving his killer hell... especially with the brutality of it all. There was no reason to fuck up his legs, he thought.

"I'm sure that bitch and her spawn will be happy to see you there." 

The last thing Fred saw was a carnal rage boiling into the other's eyes before the other picked him up by the face, claws piercing the skin of his cheeks and into his mouth as he felt the sharp pain of the other haphazardly shoving his fangs right into his jugular. This ripped a scream from Fred, punching the other's back as he drank, using every bit of his increasingly draining strength to try and get away, his vision darkening.

James, noting how weak the other was becoming, roughly ripped his fangs from the other's neck, a chunk of his flesh being left in his mouth that he promptly spit out. He stared at the fading lights in the other eyes, making sure he was conscious before suddenly the other's head was up against a wall. The hand, which was now embedded within the flesh of Fred's head, repeatedly slammed it against the wall, harder and harder each time. He growled as he continued, eyes boring into Fred.

"James...."

He swore he could hear someone say his name, a voice he could barely recognize through his fury, ears focusing on the gargling sobs of Fred... the motherfucker. How dare he have their names in his mouth? Speak curses of damnation over people he never knew?

"James."

That fucking voice again, almost drowned out by the screeching of the baby... the baby. James had forgotten she was even here, mere feet away from where he was turning one of her caregivers into a new coat of wall paint. He was just about to stop and console her when he heard one more...

"JAMES!" 

He felt a sharp pain in his back as he was thrown against the opposite wall, feeling the lack of weight in his now bloodied hand. He groaned, holding the back of his head as he glared towards the figure, who glared right back at him, standing in front of the bloodied, barely recognizable body of Fred. 

Fucking Jonathan. He was looking down at him, a displeased look plastered on his face as he waited for James to start speaking.

"What the fuck were you doing? We don't torture our prey, you know damn well that can be dangerous for us!" Jonathan snapped at him, James rolling his eyes at him, standing up and rushing to the wailing baby in her crib. He hadn't even thought about the blood on his hands as he consoled her, whispering for her to settle down, that she was okay. He spoke as he continued to bounce her.

"He was saying shit about Evis and my daughter. I lost it, sorry!" He snapped back, covering the baby's ears as he did to not scare her more.

"Maybe quit mentioning them to your prey and we wouldn't have this problem!"

"Forgive me for missing them!"

"It's been over 200 years, you can't sulk about them forever, James." Jonathan spat back at him, purple eyes boring into the younger of the two.

"Oh, I forgot! You're Jonathan Davis the vampire, you've never had anyone to actually give a fuck about outside a quickie!" James snapped mockingly back at him. Almost as soon as he ended that sentence, his body filled with fear. Jonathan, who had closed any distance between them, his claws embedded in James's neck. James immediately remembered his place, eyes falling to avoid eye contact.

Jonathan was older, stronger than him. He had saved his life before, nursed him back to health from his strenuous injuries... Jonathan was the maitre— the leader of the (albeit, very slowly) growing coven that moved place to place as the two had to escape danger. He knew he messed up, and as such, quietly communicated his regrets, holding the baby protectively close to himself as he did so. Jonathan knew why James was so attached to this baby.. He missed his daughter. The sound of James's crying at night, his futile calling to try and find her always found its way into Jonathan's nightmares. Thinking about this, he almost immediately regretted the harshness he had shown the other. Communicating the same feelings of regret to him as he released his neck.

"James, we have to go.. Brian will be back soon, and we need to get you cleaned up." Jonathan explained gently, cradling the back of his neck as he spoke. James, clearly close to tears upon realization of his brutality, nods, allowing for the taller to gently take the baby from his arms and set her back in her crib, brushing his fingers over her eyes. Almost immediately, she fell asleep.. one of the many amazing things that Jonathan could do, and one of the few reasons James hadn't completely lost his mind. 

In an instant, the two were gone, leaving the brutal remnants of James's hunt behind... and not a moment later, two more walked in through the opened front door.

Wes couldn't even react, couldn't even begin to console Brian as he screamed and rushed to the body of Fred, cradling him close as he begged his god to bring him back... His emotions had completely shut down, forcing him to back out of the house and stumble onto the porch, a scream ripping itself from his throat as it all set in.