#vampwinchester

He could feel it in his bones, just underneath his skin -- a body clock that let him know where the sun was at all times.  

Eyes opened, more attentive than normal upon first waking, partially due to the fact that his lover was perched at the end of the bed reading.  Not for very long, it seemed.  Eric slept in.  And Sam let him.

The bed moved as Eric sat up but Sam either didn't notice or paid no mind -- it was no matter.  Eric had better things in mind...  

It was easy for him to crawl across the bed, easy for his fangs to click out quietly, or as quietly as he could manage, and still Sam was engrossed in the book.  He reached the back of his lover and pulled the length of hair away from his neck, leaned in to drink without a word, just a small kiss and fangs were slicing into the delicate skin without warning.  One hand on his arm, the other wrapped around his body and coming to settle on his waist as Eric drank more than his fill.  Sam's blood was addictive -- and Eric couldn't get enough.

Hello again, bitches!

Sorry for the delay. Because of some super annoying technical difficulties I was forced to abandon my original gift ideas and it's taken me some time to sort that out.

But fear not, little ones. I have promised gifts so gifts will be handed out to those who found my secret stash of presents...just not as shiny as the ones I originally intended. So please bear that in mind that it's the thought that counts.

Now that I am all dressed up in my most christmas-y outfit I will jump on my broom and start handing out the gifts. So if gifts get lost or end up in the wrong chimney just let me know and I'll make sure one arrives safely to you ASAP.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Dudes and Dudettes!

[ ohmgersh Lu — you just freaked him the hell out… O____o eep! ]

Lucifer could actually feel a sting of regret at the words he felt echo around him, the voice that had spoken them the only one that, yes, he had made a promise towards. He had cared about... at one time. Perhaps(?) The feeling was still there, and he knew he hadn't lied when he'd first spoken the promise--promised to give it all, to do what was needed, to do what he wanted-- 

But now, things were different. 

Things were always different, always changing, at the very moments the archangel never wanted them to alter themselves. Slowly, Lucifer looked up, blue eyes of his vessel meeting the darker gaze of the only one that had mattered for a while. The one that had been made for him, for ages, since the very beginning-- 

Different?

How… different?

"I was supposed to be" - an angel of the lord, a warrior, a soldier, a unfeeling tool or extension of God’s work, like a hammer or a lightning strike, almost like an automaton or - “I don’t even remember what I was supposed to be, Sam.”

He spoke earnestly as he looked up with hazy blue eyes.

"What did you presume of me? What expectations have you placed upon me, that I have failed to deliver?"

                       -- and from within him, the heat of the sun burns...

The fire ignites from his flesh, from the fire within his own heart and it renders the offender useless.  The fire used to scare him...  it used to control him, it used to be created from the angriest, ugliest parts of himself before the sun h e a l e d him from the inside out, made him new again, re-bore his flesh into new flesh, better flesh, dignified flesh...  the fire used to be a "why me" and now the fire is "I am the only one deserving of this."

                                        [  he's the only one that could handle it, the only one that's strong enough and just tainted enough, or perhaps pure enough, to let something so deadly soar through his veins, latch onto his soul...  ]

So the thing dies, a fiery death, deserving of what it was.  Perhaps it had had a life before this, before someone took it away and turned it into this monster, but sometimes these croats were smart, sometimes they snuck past gates and through traps meant for these things.  Wrong place wrong time.  A crispy death fit for a zombie.

Eric extinguishes the fire and looks back toward Sam, who had made busy work of packing the car -- they didn't need much, but what was in the trunk of the jeep was necessary, packed with things like gasoline and blankets, extra bags to carry books if there was anything worth retrieving, firewood -- and had long since gotten over the commodity of Eric possessing such a gift.  Same shit, different day?  It wasn't exciting anymore.  Wasn't scary anymore.  It was safety, maybe.

Eric comes up behind Sam and stops his hand from reaching out, laces the too-warm fingers of his hand through Sam's fingers and just lets his body cool down against his progeny.  He buries his face in the cook of Sam's neck, breathes in his scent and does not ask permission before sinking his teeth in carefully and pulling a sip of blood from the wound.  It closes beneath his tongue as he licks away the spill.

          "You have always tasted of ambrosia and honeysuckle and I envy for you that..."  He presses his lips reverently against Sam's neck, before enveloping him fully in his arms.

          "Are you ready to go?  Do we have everything?  It will be dawn, soon, and with that you're eyesight will be gone...  I'd prefer it if you sleep on the drive down there, but...  I won't force you."

Alaric ran a hand through his disheveled locks with a tired sigh, wandering through the camp he had finally stumbled upon with a few minor mishaps. It was odd, being in a place deemed safe among his peers once again. He'd spent too long on his own that he felt like an outsider looking in on the camp around him. The people here seemed as happy as they could be considering the state of the world, helping one another when they could, whereas Alaric had given that all up months ago. He didn't know if he could do that again, put himself out there for other people while trusting them to have his back when he needed them, but he knew he would try if only to prove to himself that he could.

Once Damon and he had reconnected, or more like Alaric's fist had become reacquainted with the vampire's face, the other had told him that he needed to find a man within the camp in order to get permission to stay. The male had offered to come with him, to find this Sam Winchester for him, but the human had needed some time away from the man who he felt abandoned him. Things had changed between them and Alaric needed some time to come to terms with finding the vampire again. There were a lot of things he needed to wrap his head around before he even dared to venture rekindling that friendship.

As it was, he found himself wandering through the camp looking for a tall man with shoulder-length brown hair. For someone almost two hundred years old, Damon sure didn't give good descriptions but it was all he had to go on or risk the vampire leading him around all over again.

Glancing up, he tilted his head as he looked at the back of a man standing near a cottage that was being rebuilt, looking up at the roof with his arms crossed. He was certainly tall and his hair seemed about the right length. Alaric rolled his eyes at himself, if it wasn't the man he was looking for then he could always ask to be pointed in the right direction.

He took a small step closer, clearing his throat politely to inform the other of his presence before speaking. "Would you happen to be the Sam Winchester I was told to find?"