Chapter Text
William Christopher Cipher had been a wizard for many, many years. He’d watched the world change, saw all the bizarre inventions and silly wars humanity had to offer, but there was nothing weirder than his peculiar roommate, whom he’d met on a peculiar night, in a peculiar place. He’d just returned to America, weary from dealing with old wizards in London that thought they knew more about the society than he did. His flight back had been long and boring, filled with overly nice flight attendants and other passengers that didn't know the meaning of personal space. He was, simply, exhausted. Will slumped his way into the local bar, seating himself on one of the barstools and requesting the strongest ale from the tender.
There was one other gentleman seated at the bar, nursing what looked like to be a glass of tomato juice. Gross , Will thought, nose crinkling with disgust. That man must have some confused taste buds . The stranger had slicked back brown hair, though it seemed like he could really use a shower and some sun; his skin was sickly pale, eyes sunken in with high cheekbones and thin lips. He could probably stand to eat more. His clothes were ratty and well worn, colors faded and smudged with grime. It was like this man just rolled out of a grave.
Will tried to keep to himself, conversing with the bartender about his trip to London. Robert offers a gentle smile and comfort only death could possess, recounting his own visits. Grim Reapers are hard to come by it seems. Robert was a tall man with tanned skin and pale hair. He was all skin and bones, but he didn't appear to be malnourished like the other gentleman at the bar. Will had lived in Gravity Falls for many years. It was somewhat of a safe haven for monsters, magicals, and the like. They got to live under the noses of the humans in town and enjoy relatively normal lives. The Wizard had watched the building around him transition from a tavern, to a pub, to a bar by the hands of Robert, and Will’s own patronage.
“Can you believe they want to kick me off the council?” Will huffed, lazily swirling his drink around in his glass, cheeks a rosy hue from the alcohol. Robert solemnly nods his head in understanding, knowing this kind of thing had been going on for a hundred years now. Wizards are power hungry beings, going stir crazy from long lives and falling relevance. Modern society wasn’t in need of potions that can heal ailments for curses for one’s enemies. Will had thought that it would be peaceful to live without his services in constant demand, but it seemed the others did not hold his views. Will had been an apprentice to Merlin himself many times ago, so he was not easily removed from his seat in London.
Mason had just woken up a few hours prior to his arrival at the bar, a cat like lethargy in his bones as he stretched. One thing he hated about being dead was how stiff his body got without constant movement. He yawned, licking his teeth to hopefully get rid of the taste of sleep as he pushed out of his coffin, the tomb he lived in smelling of old water and decay. It was dusk, the last few rays of light peeking into the cracked door, signaling it was safe for him to wander. Hunger pinched at his stomach as a reminder he hadn’t eaten in too long of a time. He was in a grouchy mood, fangs aching with the need to sink into flesh for the simple pleasure of fresh blood on his tongue. With one last crack to his back, he set out to sulk at his favorite haunt, the old bar a mere three blocks from the cemetery.
The old vampire slumped into his favorite barstool, red eyes scanning the establishment for possible victims. There weren't many patrons there that evening, a few old men sitting in the corner laughing over their drinks while a younger man sat at the piano, filling the bar with smooth jazz. It made the place feel a lot nicer than it should, but it was cozy this way. Robert offered Mason his best smile, hands busy cleaning a glass like all those cliché bartenders usually do.
“Rough week?” Robert asks, voice smooth and calming to Mason’s overactive mind. Death was always sort of alluring in a way, and he wondered if Robert would have been the man to take his soul all those years ago when Mason should have died.
“Do you have any left in stock?” Mason is blunt in his speech, voice hoarse with near desperation. His stomach is churning with the idea of drinking the lukewarm blood again, but it's what he needs to dull the edge before he can feed. He folds his hands on the counter as he watches the Grim Reaper dip below the bar to rummage around the mini fridge below, producing an unmarked bottle. Mason never questioned where the man got the blood from, he was sure he didn't want to know, and it was truly a lifesaver some nights.
Robert had just handed him the warmed glass when another man walked in and sat at the other end of the bar. He looked absolutely ridiculous with his wavy black hair tucked underneath an over the top hat, a truly hideous brown cloak wrapped around his shoulders as if he had just walked out of an old fantasy book. Mason snorted to himself as he sipped his drink, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly from his near feral state.
The man at the end of the bar spoke with heavily accented English, a british accent anyone would be stupid to miss. It made Mason roll some words across his own tongue to himself, wondering if his accent was just as thick. It had been many years since his last trip to Romania after all. He listened to the tired man’s tale, sizing him up with calculating eyes. He was short, skinny, perhaps not a very good fighter. He would be easy prey, a quick meal for him before he retreated back to his tomb. He didn’t come out much most nights, and slept all day. There wasn’t much for him to do with his immortality.
“Thank you for listening to my tale.” Will mumbled, placing a few dollar bills beside his empty glasses. He’d stayed few a few hours, lips pursed in a pout as he groused over wizard politics and how hard it had been smuggling exotic plants into America. It used to be much easier in the olden days. The wizard stood from the bar, a little shaky on his feet; it wasn’t often that he drank alcohol and he had a small tolerance of it. Will left the bar after a quick farewell, opting to walk home. He didn’t live very far, as Gravity Falls was a relatively small town. The cool night air was refreshing on his heated face, though it did little to sharpen his senses. He didn’t notice the other man leave the bar after him, or how quickly he closed the gap between them.
The next thing Will knew, his back was to a brick wall and teeth in his neck. He was slow to process the information, mind fuzzy from the alcohol and pain shooting from his neck. His hat laid discarded in the dirt, cloak haphazardly pushed to the side. “Hey,” He slurred, pushing at the man sucking his blood. “That bloody hurts.”
Mason had grabbed the wizard before he could make it past the alley beside the bar, quick to pull the disoriented man in and pin him against the wall. He certainly was small, light under his fingers, and his clothes were annoying to look at. The vampire brushed away all the fabric blocking the man’s neck and sunk his fangs in before Will could collect himself, wanting this to be as quick as possible. He hadn’t counted on the man’s blood being so disgusting though. Mason ripped himself away from the wizard, spitting out the mouthful of blood into the dirt. It tasted burnt, like the man had electricity constantly flowing through his veins. The vampire’s mouth tingled from the aftertaste, his face screwed up in a sour expression.
“What the hell are you?” I feel like I’m going to be sick. Mason braced his hands on his knees, spitting the sour taste into the dirt as the wizard came back to his senses, bending over to pick up his hat from the dirt. Will scowled, noticing that he’d have to wash it when he got home. Blood was still freely flowing from his neck, thinned from the alcohol in his system and the incomplete bite.
“How are you gonna assault me and try to take my life force before asking what I am?” Will pressed the collar of his cloak to his neck, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. “Hasn’t anyone taught you manners?” The wizard staggered his way back onto the sidewalk, leaving the heaving vampire alone. He turned back for a second, a pout firmly in place. Mason gathered himself enough to stand, red eyes nearly blinding in the shadows as he stared Will down, blood dripping from his chin.
“Vampires shouldn’t be going around biting wizards.” And with that, Will was gone, grumbling to himself as he walked home. He hadn’t expected such a bloodthirsty monster to be among the inhabitants of Gravity Falls, but anything was possible it seemed. The wizard has seen many creatures in his life, even befriended some of them. Normally they were no threat to his life, just harmless beings wanting to live in their own solitude. Vampires, of course, had to feed on the blood of others, but Will had never encountered one before, much less gotten bitten by one. He had thought they all stayed in Europe around Romania; once again he was wrong.
As Will walked down the street to his house, he noticed the for sale sign next door had been stuck with a SOLD sticker, indicating he’d be having a new neighbor here shortly. The wizard hoped they didn’t mind explosions and the occasional haywire spell. Will was still learning after all.
Mason held back in the alley for a few minutes, feeling as if he’d been poisoned. It had definitely curbed his appetite, but he felt like he’d tried to drink holy water. He wiped the blood off his face as he began the trek back to the cemetery, mulling over the failure. It was usually easy to lure prey in and have them near willing for his fangs, but he’d bypassed all of his usual tactics for a quick meal. It seemed he’d chosen the wrong prey; wizards did not make good dinners.
Mason climbed back into his coffin with the moon still high in the sky, exhausted from what he had just endured. He had nearly shut the tomb door all the way, wanting to hide for another few hundred years, but he held off, seeing as he didn’t want to be trapped and have no access to blood. As he pulled the coffin shut above him, the vampire could have swore he heard the rumbling of a truck and the shouts of humans. No one but he should be in the cemetery.