Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

It was still night when Mason woke once again, rummaging outside his tomb filtering into his hyper sensitive ears. He’d heard recently, through eavesdropping on other magical beings, that monster hunters had moved into town, drawn to the sleepy Gravity Falls for supposed increased activity of the supernatural. The vampire was groggy in his movements, arms and legs stiff from lying still. The wizard’s blood still clung to his pallet, draining him even further. It was like an illness, robbing his body of energy as he struggled to expel it from his system.

He pushed open his coffin as quietly as he could, the old hinges squeaking faintly. He’d need to take it to the local funeral home and have it repaired. He slipped out of his bed with all the grace of a fledgling waking up from death for the first time, feet thumping loudly on the dusty floor. The sound echoed through the tomb, dirt huffing up in a cloud before flittering back to the ground. Maybe he should move his coffin off the raised platform, but it felt like some kind of religious irony, and what kind of vampire would he be if he didn't exploit that?

Mason crept over to the cracked door, red eyes bright in the night. His pointed ears twitched as he searched for any more sounds. Footsteps were coming from his left, perhaps fifty feet away. His teeth throbbed almost pleasantly at the idea of a fresh kill, his hunger from before coming back full force. The moon was high overhead, indicating only a few hours had transpired since his failed feeding. Hunger pinched at his stomach, and he almost shot out of the tomb to catch the prey approaching before he heard voices.

“Dad, are you sure a monster lives here?” The voice was young, probably early teens. Mason couldn’t tell if it was male or female from the way the speaker whined. Mason crouched down to reduce the possibility of being spotted as a shadow briefly passed over his tomb. He stared at the slumped shoulders of the passing figure―a boy he now knew. He could hear three, maybe four, other people shuffling around tombstones; all searching for him.

A booming voice nearly made Mason hiss in pain, his hands shooting up to cover his ears. It sounded so close, as if the man was beside the tomb. The vampire was quickly realizing he was a sitting duck, just waiting for them to burst in there and stake him. He debated turning into his bat form and making an escape, but with the lack of blood in his system, he wouldn’t make it far.

“Of course the vampire lives here!” The voice laughed, fully confident in his answer as he clasped his son on the shoulder. “Where else would it live? No one would willingly let it into their home.” The man, tall and broad shouldered, spoke as if Mason was a pest, vermin that should be rid from the world. A snarl built up in his throat before he stopped himself, clawed fingers digging into the stone below him.

He could take the boy down no problem; he seemed to hold no physical prowess and an apathetic disposition. The father would be a lot harder to take down in the vampire’s current state. He was armed with crosses hanging from his neck, the stench of garlic clinging to his being. He even seemed to carry holy water and wooden stakes on his belt. Mason scowled, standing once the pair moved on, listening for the sounds of them prying open the door to a different tomb.

The vampire used the sound to cover up opening his own tomb door, the moonlight filtering over his face as he peeked out, scanning his surroundings for the other hunters in the area, perhaps the rest of the man’s family. If they were anything like the son, it wouldn’t be too difficult to escape unnoticed. He kept his steps light as he crept out of his tomb, careful of fallen tree branches and broken tombstones. Mason weaved between tombstones and statues, anxiety building as he neared the exit. It had been too quiet while he moved, the wind gently rustling leaves underfoot.

He’d kept himself low, nearly crawling across the ground to keep out of the light. By now the hunters must have discovered his opened tomb, the relatively fresh looking coffin propped open and empty. Mason swallowed thickly, ears flicking, straining to make up for his lacking vision in the dark. The gate was in sight, swinging in the breeze as if to taunt him. Beyond, the worn down parking lot held an old looking truck, a model he didn't recognize, though it's not like he knew much about cars in the first place.

Mason got as close as he could, crouching next to a grave to make sure the coast was clear. Well, that would have been the plan if the shouting hadn’t started. Maybe he had overestimated the ability of these hunters.

“Hey!” Another male voice shouted, one deeper than the boy but not quite as the father. “This tomb’s already open!”

“Are you sure we didn’t open it?” Mason turned towards the exit once more, hands braced on the ground to sprint off. “There’s an open coffin, dad! It must have escaped!”

Before Mason could even take a step, a voice was right next to his ear, low, feminine and mocking. “Goin’ somewhere, monster?” Mason spun around fast enough to narrowly avoid a direct stab to the chest. The stake plunged into his left shoulder with a sickening tear, a scream ripping from the vampire as he stumbled back, holding his bleeding shoulder; they must have soaked them in holy water. He was quick to pull the stake out, dropping it into the dirt with a trembling hand. Panic began to flood his being as the hunter made move to strike again, new stake already in hand.

Before she could make another jab at his heart, Mason shifted into his bat form, flapping his wings in a weak attempt to escape. His shoulder burned, blood dripping from his wing as he struggled to keep airborne. At the rate of his blood loss, he would be forced to revert back in a matter of seconds. Behind him, the female hunter was calling to her family, informing them of the vampire’s escape.

Mason made it halfway across the parking lot before he fell to the ground, reverting back to his human form. He almost felt like giving up, like letting them stake him and put him out of his misery. His breathing was labored, hand pressed tightly to his wound as footsteps began to approach. He had maybe a minute before they would be upon him. The vampire struggled to his feet, shouts ringing in his ears and vision swimming from bloodloss.

He tripped the first few steps, legs wobbly. By some miracle he worked up to a run, breath coming out in pants as he escaped the parking lot. A few streets away were houses, the residential area of Gravity Falls where he could possibly hide. His bones creaked, muscles protesting the exertion as he ran, fueled only by the desire to life, no matter how small it was. Heavy footsteps were gaining on him, though the hunters weren’t close enough to start throwing holy water at him.

He turned onto the first street, running past a few houses. All the lights were off, leaving a slim possibility to be let in by time the hunters caught up. He stumbled up the steps of the last house on the street, slumping against the front door. His eyes slipped shut, hand clinging to his wound. It was getting harder to stay conscious, his breathing thinning out. He almost succumbed to his fate before another miracle was bestowed upon him and the door against his back opened.

Chapter Text

Will had arrived home at around eleven, fumbling with the key to the lock for a few minutes in his tipsy state. His hands trembled, the key falling from his fingers a few times. He eventually had to give in and use his magic. It was as easy as a lazy flick of his wrist to get the key in the lock and turn it, the door swinging open. The sweet aroma of pollen and exotic fruits tickled his nose as he stepped inside, the coat rack by the door greeting him by pawing at his cloak. Will easily handed it over, brushing the hooks away when they tried to pry his hat from his hands.

The wizard wobbled his way to the kitchen, depositing his hat onto the counter. He’d have to deal with it when he was more sober. Will sipped on a glass of water as he rummaged around under the sink for his first aid kit. His neck was still bleeding, but it had slowed, a trickle now instead of gushing. The blood had already soaked through his cloak―he’d have to apologize to the coat rack later―and his shirt. He felt sticky and a bit cold, the drunken blush having fallen off his face on the way home. Will sat on the kitchen floor, legs crossed in front of him with the first aid kit as he pulled his ruined shirt off, struggling for a moment to get it over his head. He nearly fell backwards when he finally got his head unstuck, the fabric now laying on the floor beside him. He’d clean the blood up in the morning, he decided.

The wizard opened the first aid kid and pulled out a roll of gauze and tube of disinfectant―who knew where that vampire’s mouth had been. The ache in his neck had dulled to a throb, a helpful tool for feeling around for the wound. Will used an alcohol wipe to clean up most of the blood, hissing from the pain. He put up with it as long as he could, hoping he was able to clear away most of the mess. Quickly applying the ointment, he tried to ignore the feeling of gaping holes in his neck. The gauze was a little tricky to secure in place, but after a few tries he managed to get it to stay.

Grumbling unhappily to himself, the wizard pushed himself off the floor and walked to his room, tripping over the first aid kit he’d already forgotten about. Will lived in a one story house: two bedrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen, and bathroom. The kitchen was to the immediate left of the house and the hallway leading to the bedrooms broke off the living room to the right. It was a small house, but it was his, and all he needed. Anything too extravagant would cause unwanted attention to his activities; he’d barely avoided getting burned at the stake the first time, and he’d rather not be ousted again.

Will changed into his pajamas, a plain grey t-shirt and the softest blue pants, before crawling into bed. The blankets tucked themselves around him, warm and comforting. The wizard was asleep almost instantly, the moonlight casting a gentle glow over the room. A few hours passed without incident, Will’s dreams filled with pleasant memories. He dreamed of a time he used to be all powerful, magic barely contained within his body. Merlin used to tell him all his raw talent would end up getting him in trouble, and he was right. Will had flooded the wizard’s tower doing chores while Merlin slept. The wrath he had to endure from his teacher was not something he ever wanted to experience ever again.

Will entered a restless sleep, turning in his blankets and getting tangled up. He felt like he was getting suffocated, drowning under the rising water flooding the tower. It lapped at his legs, pulled at his ankles as he tried to run up the stairs to higher ground. It chased him, the water rising faster than he could climb. All the sudden his footing was gone, and he was falling. He was engulfed in the water, his air cut off, limbs flailing uselessly to get above the water.

He woke up on the floor in a cold sweat, legs tangled in the blankets on the bed, breathing heavy. The wizard slowly sat up, running his hands over his face. He needed a glass of water. Licking his chapped lips, Will maneuvered his way back to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water from the tap. His eyes struggled to stay open, the images of drowning fresh every time they slipped closed. Will leaned on the counter as he sipped his drink, mouth sour with lingering nightmares. It had started so nice, with warm English meadows and the bright sun. It was just like that day.

Merlin had asked him to wash the floors. A meeting was going to be held at the tower the following day and the old wizard wanted their facilities to be in tip top condition for their guests. Will had been young at the time, fresh out of school and eager for his apprenticeship. Merlin was a hard man to please, but Will had managed to win him over with the sheer amount of magic he possessed and the art of perseverance. Will had, of course, accepted the task with enthusiasm, getting to work right away.

At first it had been easy; wipe down the floor with the mop and move on, but eventually Will began to tire and grow bored with the task. The tower had upwards of eight floors, each with multiple rooms. He had begun using his magic to have the mop clean for him, the bucket moving along with it. It had worked fine, no problems as he kept a watchful eye. The problem only occurred when he fell asleep.

Will was pulled from his thoughts by a thump at the door, his glass nearly slipping out of his hands as he jumped. Quickly setting it down, he moved towards the door, peeking out of the window at the top to see what was the source of the noise. All he could see were a pair of legs, sticking out towards the street. It seemed someone was taking a rest on his doorstep. Lips pursed, the wizard opened the door, not expecting the man to practically fall across his feet.

“You again?” Will groaned in exhaustion at the sight of the vampire. He couldn’t see tell in the lack of light that the man had been stabbed. The body as his feet didn’t move or make any indication that he was even alive. The wizard nudged him with his foot, watching his eyes flutter open. “Are you dying again or…?”

Mason stared up a Will with glazed over eyes, slow to recognize the man before him. He parted his lips to make his own snide remark before the shouting in the distance caught his ear. “You have to let me in.” He hissed, gripping his shoulder as he sat up, a look of pain pinching his face.

“Why?” Will’s gaze flickered to his shoulder, the blood covering his hand and clothes. Between the gaps in Mason’s fingers Will realized he could actually see through him to his yard. Bile rose in his throat at the thought, and for a second he wondered why he didn’t smell the blood before. It saturated the air, near gagging the wizard.

“Please,” The vampire hissed, ears flicking as the hunters approached his location. “I need to hide.” Mason crawled closer, stopping just before the threshold as if there was an invisible barrier keeping him out. Will pursed his lips in thought, weighing the pros and cons of allowing the vampire into his home. There didn’t seem to be the risk of getting bit again since that already had a nasty effect.

“Fine, since your life seems to be at stake,” It was a weak pun, not even worth commenting on. “and you’re begging at my feet, so I’ll let you in.” By now Will could also hear the shouts of the hunters, realization slowly dawning on him as he ushered the injured vampire inside. He directed him towards the kitchen to tend to his wound.

“Try to stay away from the plants. Most of them are carnivorous,” Will mumbled, sitting Mason at the table with the first aid kit. He wasn’t sure how to treat a wound like this the the sight of it up close almost made him vomit. Mason seemed keen on patching himself up as well, so the wizard kept to himself, avoiding direct eye contact with the hole in his shoulder. After several minutes of the vampire’s pained hisses and Will’s unhelpful commentary about how gross this all was, the wound was dressed as best a man with only usable hand could.

“Do you have Robert’s number? I need blood fast.” Mason was running on fumes and autopilot, voice clipped and fast as consciousness was beginning to fail him again. He slumped against the table, ignoring the wizard currently dialing the man requested.

Will had left the room for a brief moment to retrieve his phone, fingers numbly scrolling through his short list of contacts for Robert. He pressed his phone to his ear, listening to it ring before the man picked up, voice velvet even through the crappy speaker. The wizard didn’t even let the grim reaper finish his pleasantries before he was retelling what just happened, as he understood it, at rapid fire speed. He didn’t even know why he was helping the man that had attacked him mere hours before, but for some reason he couldn’t just leave him to die at the hands of vampire hunters. He knew what it was like to be hunted.

“Robert, there is a vampire bleeding all over my kitchen table with a hole in his shoulder and I was told to call you because he needs blood.” The line was silent for a few beats while Robert absorbed the information and conversed with someone out of earshot. Will waited with baited breath for a response, Mason hissing with every move his body made, intentional or not.

“Erika says she can take care of it, but she’s not happy.” The call ended.

Chapter Text

Robert ran a hand down his face as he pulled himself out of bed, Erika mumbling angrily to herself as she got dressed to head out. It was the kindness in her heart that kept her from killing the vampire herself. The grim reaper could only be bothered to throw on his robe over his pajamas and stuff his feet into fluffy slippers before moving towards the front door, a yawn pulling at his lips.

He’d just closed up the bar an hour earlier, kicking out the drunk patrons and paying the pianist for his time. Bill was an excellent musician, voice smooth and melodies hypnotic. Robert would have believed he was some kind of enchanter if he didn't see the man drop his hand from time to time. His hand, Robert laughed to himself, making a note to talk to Erika about his new hire at a later date, when she was less irritated. He wondered when his life had been overrun with science fiction and horror stories, but he supposed Bill was the least of their worries at the moment.

Erika shoved her extensive first aid kit into Robert’s hands when she passed him, frustrated with his nonchalance over the ordeal. “Make yourself useful and put that in the car.” She practically hissed, stalking to the kitchen to retrieve blood bags from a separate refrigerator. She packed a couple bags in a cooler, ensuring the blood would not spoil before reaching the wounded vampire. I should just let him drink the rotten blood. She grouched to herself, slamming the cooler shut with more force than necessary. Making a mental note to repent for her rage when all this was over, she joined Robert out in the car. She didn’t know when Will got involved with such a troublesome man, but as a favor to him she’d patch the vampire up.

The drive over was silent, with luckily no mishaps every time Robert nearly fell asleep at the wheel. Erika was convinced she was only here to keep him alive―how ironic. There were a few more minutes of tense silence before the pair were pulling up to Will’s home, Erika grumbling the entire way up to the front door. She knocked, once, a sharp sound Will was guaranteed to hear. Robert stood behind her with his arms full, first aid kit threatening to slip off its place atop the cooler.

Will opened the door with little grace, eyes red and puffy from the lack of sleep and movements jerky. He stepped back to let the pair in, directing them to the kitchen with a grumble. He was tired, exhausted from just watching the vampire writhe in pain. Mason had fallen out of consciousness again, head pressed to the kitchen table and arms hanging uselessly by his sides. The blood loss left him feeling cold, colder than usual and so very tired. Mason wanted to sleep for another several years, to reside in a permanent hibernation.

The voices around him sloshed around in his dulled mind, tugging him towards consciousness, and he turned away, tongue heavy in his mouth as he wanted to tell whoever it was to shut up. The vampire was, however, jolted awake when Erika pressed the palm of her hand to his shoulder, putting enough pressure to cause tears. He snapped up in his chair, red eyes glaring up at her and her offending smile. Had he not been desperate for her services, he would have gave her a piece of his mind.

“Well look at what we have here,” Erika straddled the chair beside Mason, motioning with a lazy wave for Robert to bring her the supplies. “It’s amazing you’ve survived this long with how poorly you dress wounds.” Mason huffed at her teasing, turning towards her anyway, presenting his shoulder. He might not like Erika, what she stood for or her as a person, but her skills were undeniable, and the blood she provided kept him from becoming some kind of feral monster.

Will stood off to the side with Robert, watching Erika redress the wound as Mason stared at the blood packs before him, jaw clenched to keep himself in check. He couldn’t drink until the wound had closed, as the blood would simply run out of him. Erika, as an angel, possessed miraculous healing abilities, making her a valuable friend to have. She was a plump woman, short in height with an even shorter temper. Will had always liked her green eyes and red hair, the curling locks often times ending up pushed up into a bun. Erika had been one of the nicest people to Will when he came to town, as in the beginning he ended up in the ER a lot for burns, and she was one of the nurses there. She was like the mother he never had; she would scold him every time he came into the ER from a potion gone wrong.

Will was fascinated by Erika’s magic every time she used it, even if she refused to acknowledge it as magic. She claimed divine aid, and Will was never really in any position to disagree. Her hands glowed with a soft light, lighting up the dark space as she pressed them to Mason’s shoulder again. The flesh beneath her fingers slowly moved to weave itself back together, a delicate process that took several minutes to complete as to avoid complications. Mason didn’t make a sound despite the painful process, his eyes seemingly void of life at this point, probably from the pain he already felt.

It had been centuries since the vampire had been attacked, let alone stabbed deep enough for it to matter. Vampires were resilient creatures, immune to most everything that wasn't blessed water, pointy sticks, and the occasional cross shaped object. Once Erika deemed him well enough to fill up on blood again, Mason wasted no time picking up a bag and puncturing it with his aching fangs, a satisfied sigh falling from his lips as he could finally relax, the cold blood running thick over his tongue. It didn’t taste the best, but it would have to do.

Erika watched Mason feed with disgust for a moment before getting up from her seat and leaving him be. She had something to discuss with Will. Grabbing said wizard, the angel dragged him into the living room, careful not to wander too close towards the plants along the walls. She’d learned fairly quickly they didn't discriminate between actual flesh and otherworldly beings. Will dragged his feet behind her and they walked, a whine high in his throat. He just wanted to go back to bed, to sleep until morning and pretend like all this didn’t happen.

“How do you know him?” She barely waited before they stepped into the living room before turning on her heels, words falling from her lips like she was restraining herself the entire time to hold them in. Will blinked sluggishly at the question, subconsciously bringing his hand up to his neck.

“So, I came back from London today,” Will started, clicking his tongue as he debated on how to word this. “I went out for drinks, Robert listened to me complain about the elders. Can you believe they’re trying to kick me off the council again? I’ve been on it longer than some of them have been alive and―”

“Will, I really don't care about wizard politics,” Erika bluntly cut him off, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. The old wizard had a habit of getting sidetracked in verbal conversations, mind working faster than his mouth. She supposed it was from all the things he knew and didn't get a chance to express to other people. She’d urged him many times to take up an apprentice, but he’d adamantly refused.

“Right, right. My apologies.” The wizard shook his head, one hand sliding through the curls atop his head. “anyways, after I had my fill, I left. It was a nice evening, good for walking. And i'm minding my own business when I get pulled into the alley besides the pub.” Will gestured to his neck, a scowl on his lips. “And this man, vampire, decides it’s perfectly alright to bite me.”

Erika almost laughs, almost. Will always had a way of attracting trouble to himself by doing absolutely nothing. Most days it was cats hanging around his house as if they could sense his magic and wanted to add to the aesthetic―sadly some meet untimely deaths to the plants Will keeps around everywhere. “And why is he here? Shouldn’t he be back in his cemetery waxing some gloomy poetry about being dead or something?”

Will crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the door frame. There was a plant directly behind him and the angel didn't know how he’s never gotten bitten. “Attacked by hunters, ran into the neighborhood, ended up on my porch.” He summed up with a shrug, as if it wasn’t a big deal for a vampire to fall at his feet in the middle of the night; maybe he’s had worse in all his life. “He’s not a big talker, kind of sulky.” It was a miracle in itself that Will even got that information out of Mason with the state he was in.

“What are you going to do with him now?” It would have been easy to kick him out now that he was healed and sated, but there was still the fact he was being hunted down. Will had planned on letting the vampire stay until the following night, just to make sure the coast was clear and he wouldn’t have the vampire’s death on his conscious. Erika nodded along with his plan, seemingly approving, even if she didn't like Mason. She would have taken the vampire with them, but they couldn’t just drop him back off at the cemetery and she wasn’t about to let him into her home. It seemed like a perfect idea to just let Mason hide out in Will’s house for the time being, except there was one small problem. "Hey Will?"

"Yes?" Will perked up a bit, rubbing the quickly returning sleep from his eyes.

“Don't those hunters live across the street?”

Chapter Text

Erika and Robert left not long after that, wishing Will luck and sending Mason one last glare on Erika's half. The silence left behind was deafening to the Wizard, a buzzing in his ears that wasn't associated with the magic pumping through his veins. Mason was still slumped over the table, blood dripping from his stained lips. It was kind of gross, in an almost endearing way. Drunken red eyes turned their attention to the man hovering in the doorway, tongue drawing slowly over sharp fangs.

    In another life, Will would have been frightened, intimidated by the ancient hunter. As it was, he was tired and irritated, mind still cloudy from the alcohol he'd consumed hours before. The pain in his neck was all but forgotten, but the vampire was a heavy reminder of what had happened. “I'm going to bed. Don't touch anything.” Will finally muttered as he turned to disappear back down the hallway, movements sluggish and balance off. If his plants didn't like him so much, he would have lost some toes.

    Mason followed Will's form with his gaze until he could no longer see him. His sensitive hearing could pick up on his movement in the far room, but he tuned it out. Regaining a bit of himself, Mason stood up to flick off the light in the kitchen, which Erika had turned on upon her entrance much to the vampire’s dismay. He felt childish for a moment with how much force he put into flicking the switch, as if he got something out of it. He felt more comfortable in the darkness, eyes readily adjusting. He stood in the center of the kitchen for a few long moments, staring out the window for any movement outside. The hunters were probably still out running around, putting him on edge. If he wasn't injured still, he would have taken his chances with the outdoors instead of hiding out in some kind of Harry Potter Herbology greenhouse.

    Clicking his tongue, Mason walked to the living room after one last glance outside. The living room was larger than the vampire expected for how small the house looked from the outside. There were bookshelves pressed to each wall, covered floor to ceiling in old and new books. He skimmed his fingers over some of the titles, the Latin text foreign to him. In the spaces the bookshelves didn't cover, there were hanging and potted plants, some looking domestic and others looking more like rabid animals. Mental note made to steer clear, Mason swept his gaze around once more, just now noticing the cauldron shoved into the corner and a  thick book lying open on a podium, looking as if ready to bend under the weight. Stepping over fallen papers and vines, the vampire peered over the book, hoping there'd be something he recognized. Latin and his native Romanian had to have some of the same roots, he reasoned. Luckily written in the margins of the book were translations, questions and corrections covering the faded Latin with fresh ink.

“Potion of revival?” Mason muttered aloud, voice booming in the silent space. He heard a plant growl somewhere to his right, but he chose not to think about that. Licking his lips, the vampire took a step closer to the black pot, hoping to investigate its contents. It was empty, sadly. Perhaps the mage had already finished it, or hadn't started. He didn't seem like the type to dabble in live or death, so he figured the potion was for a sick plant or something of that nature. Mason scoffed at the thought of the wizard using any sort of malicious magic. He could have probably killed the vampire three hundred different ways, but instead let him live with little more than a shove. And who could forget the shock to his system from the blood he'd ingested. He perhaps would still be down if he hadn't been stabbed, allowing the toxic blood to run out of his system. He always thought mages were myths, made up by older vampires to scare the youngers into not biting people willy nilly when feeding.

Mason smoothed out his vest gently as he stood straight once more, vehemently reminding himself he'd need to patch it up again. It was a miracle in itself his clothes hadn't turned to dust by now, the material coming from the late 1500’s. It was a classy look, he thought, with his vest over dress shirt, slacks professionally tailored and shoes cobbled with precision. Men of this day and age didn't know how to dress respectably. Even that mage wore the ugliest cloak and hat the vampire had ever seen on a person before. He didn't know how old Will was, but he should know how to dress by now.

Resigning himself to a boring night of hiding in the living room, Mason pulled the closest English book off the shelf and laid out on the couch as if he belonged there. Blood Magic: A Forbidden Art the title read, piquing his interests. Perhaps Will wasn't so Glinda the Good Witch as he originally thought.

Will woke up early as usual, head pained with the beginnings of a headache. Perhaps alcohol on the first night back to the states wasn't such a great idea. He stumbled out of his room to the bathroom, groping blindly in the cabinets for aspirin. He swallowed two pills dry before rubbing the sleep from his eyes, sliding on the glasses he usually left on the sink. Nowadays he wore contacts, but in the mornings it was just easier to wear the thick frames; his eyes were old and worn down from endless nights reading in low light.

The wizard changed the bandages on his neck with little more than a weak hiss, before making his way out to the kitchen, beginning the process for morning tea. Emptied blood bags laid scattered over the table, blood dried in the worn grooves. Will clicked his tongue in resurfacing irritation, intending to scold his guest for his lack of manners later—he’d already picked up his own bloody shirt from the floor and tucked his depleted first aid kit back under the sink. Kettle on the stove, he set out to the living room in search of the vampire, hoping he hadn’t gotten into something potentially dangerous―not that he was worried about him, but his plants that could potentially be harmed.

The sight before Will was almost laughable as he stepped into the living room, a smile tugging at his lips. The vampire was laying on the couch, asleep, with a book abandoned on the floor and his dumb cloak pulled over his head to block out the sun peeking in through the windows along the far wall. With careful steps of his socked feet, Will scooped up the book off the floor, closing it was a soft thud and sliding it back into it’s rightful place on one of the bookshelves.

He hadn’t expected the vampire to browse his selection for something to read, much less pick up a book on blood magic. Will pursed his lips, letting his fingers linger on the spine of the book. He had written the book in his early years as a wizard, easily influenced and curious about the reaches of his magic. It was an all consuming desire that left a foul taste on his palette. Will mulled over it for another moment before the high pitched whistle of the kettle cut through his thoughts.

The vampire across the room groaned, shifting to curl even more in on himself. It was probably much louder to him. Will was in no haste as he walked back to the kitchen, slowly lifting the boiling water off the heat. He went about making his favorite tea, watching the sun slowly illuminate the world beyond his window. There was a moving truck next door, a man opening up the back to begin unloading it. Will watched him for a moment while he waited on his tea leaves, leaning on the counter as he thought to himself.

The new neighbor was blond, skin almost a sickly pale, and thin. He looked more like a walking skeleton than a man. He didn’t seem to own many possessions, only hauling out a few marked boxes and furniture before closing up the truck. Will retreated from the window with a steaming cup of tea, the warmth making him sigh. It was getting colder lately as the months delved deeper into fall. Will only had one more day off of work from his scheduled vacation before he had to go back, and it seemed he’d be spending it working around the sleeping vampire and going to introduce himself to the new neighbor.

Will took a few blessed moments enjoying his drink, the liquid warming him from the inside out and leaving him in higher spirits than he woke up with. His headache had soothed for the time being and he no longer felt the biting cold of the house. After cleaning up his cup, Will retreated back to his room for a shower and fresh clothes, warm for the season.