Chapter Text
It's small. The box is small, and full of holes that let small trickles of sunlight in. They hurt, they burn.
It's a good thing he doesn't need to breathe, because he can't BREATHE. It's too tight.
He's trappedtrappedtrapped.
The box is a crate, nailed shut. It presses against his poorly bandaged arms, and the throbbing cuts and splinters beneath.
He's been in here for days already. The crate is old, damaged, covered in long slivers of wood. They imbed deep each time he's jostled around, his skin healing over them before he can work up the courage to yank them out. He’ll have to be extra careful not to touch his chest for a while. Better safe than staked by a stray piece of wood…
He shifts again, gaining himself another splinter. It hurts. He whines softly in distress.
He's sorry! He didn't mean to kill that kid! He didn't know he had, till the farmer told him. He was just so hungry, and the boy was wearing blue. Tommy hadn't even seen blue in a month, he was starving.
He needed it, the boy wouldn't give it to him. It was his-his-his! He thought he would be able to stop himself, he tried to stop. He lets out a loud sob. He's SORRY , he-
A blade stabs through the rough wood above him, missing him by an inch. He stares as it is yanked back out with the shrill groan of abused wood, leaving a new hole to burn a little circle into his skin. Be quiet. Got it. He holds his breath. Not like he needs it, anyway.
The conversation on the outside is to muffled to make out the words. Lots of new voices.
The truck hasn't moved for a good while now. He desperately hopes they aren't there yet. He would really rather live a few more hours, if it's all the same to Prime. Being there would mean hunters, with silver blades and a deep hatred for the undead.
The farmer told him what Hunters do to those they catch. Thousands of full fledged Vampires, burned to ash for fun, or chained up to use as target practice. Let loose, only to be hunted down for sport. He can only imagine what they do to the fledglings…
The engine starts, and the child almost cries with relief. But then the door opens. The voices get closer, and suddenly the crate is being lifted up.
The car drives away, the vampire can hear it crunching through the snow in the distance. He’s being left here. With the hunters.
He starts crying. He can't stop, no matter how hard he tries. He closes his eyes tightly, wishing he could move enough to wipe away the tears. He hates crying, the blood dries itchy and always stains his cheeks. The person holding him begins to walk, taking Tommy along for the ride.
This close, he can make out the man's voice through the wood. "-on what the fool was yelling about, shall we? I think it's another monkey with vampire fangs super glued to it, like last Halloween." The man is joking, laughing.
He's having fun. Playing. The undead child wonders how long that will last. Will the hunter get angry, once he realizes what he's holding? Will he take it out on Tommy? Or will he stay just as gleeful as he nails him to a stake?
“Nah, it’s something supernatural. Just smell it. It reeks of undead." A low voice rumbles, deep and powerful and close.
The guy sounds HUGE. Tommy knows the wood of the box would cave like wet cardboard if he actually tried to get in.
"No way. No fucking way. That box isn't big enough for even a hellhound, Techno."
“Tell that to my nose, Wilbur.”
The so called Wilbur-hunter scoffs as the side of the box slowly cracks open, letting in a stream of light.
The six year old wails inhumanly high, flinching away from the sun, from the pain. But there's nowhere to go , he's already huddled tightly to the wood. It burns, he can feel his skin start to bubble and blister already. The light cuts off faster than it appeared, leaving the child gasping in its wake.
It's dead quiet, not even a breath besides the child's own. The vampire whines softly, too quiet for a human to hear.
There! Tommy can hear someone breathing heavily, sniffing the air. Wait. Humans don't smell things like that, they-
"Sure smells like the real thing. Unless monkeys burn in the sun now." The deep voice drawls.
"... Listen to Techno this time, Will.” A third voice commands, clearly the leader. “Whatever it is, it's scared of the sun. Hand it over. I’ll take the box inside before opening it. Techno, I might need back up. Come with me." The third fucker orders.
"Coming, Phil." The techno-hunter responds immediately.
Tommy shudders. Owww… fuck do sun burns hurt. But whatever they're going to do to him is going to hurt so much MORE…
The crate is set down. It's dead quiet. The undead kid holds his breath, the air caught somewhere in his throat. Not like he needs to breathe anyway.
A knock comes out of nowhere. The boy flinches away, snarling loudly before he can stop himself.
The knock comes again, softer. The child growls as loud as he can, hoping to scare the hunters away. He gets a chuckle for his efforts.
“What do you think it is?” Phil asks, his voice far too close for Tommy’s liking.
“That small, undead smell, growling, burns in the sun? Baby zombie. Easy money.” Is Techno's smooth reply.
“Really? You're betting this time?”
“Yeeeeep. Might as well. Like I said. Easy money.”
The side cracks open, and this time it doesn't stop. The light doesn’t burn this time, but that hardly matters when there’s two , maybe three hunters waiting right outside…
A man with golden hair blinks down at the child, his jaw going slack with surprise. He's wearing a stupid green cloak, and an even stupider green striped hat.
The little vampire hisses as the smell hits. That's not a human smell. He looks human, but Tommy knows better. That's a… wolf. It's a fucking werewolf .
Werewolves and vampires are always killing each other in the streets, everyone knows that. They're mortal enemies… As if his day hadn't been bad enough. He doesn’t want to be a chew toy…
"… Well I'll be. You were half right, Techno. It's a baby all right." The man whispers quietly, wiggling his fingers in a little wave. "Hello there, little pup."
Tommy isn't a BABY, he's six whole years old! The kid snarls, curling back his lip to show his fangs.
The other hunter, the huge one, comes to take a look. His hair is pink. Tommy thinks it looks stupid. He's not getting killed by a guy with pink hair and a crown.
He looks even more stupid with his jaw hanging open like that. Not that Tommy's going to be the one to tell him. This one smells of Wolf and gunpowder. He's got a GUN. It's been used recently…
Techno steps closer, and the child whimpers, shying away. A hand wraps around his ankle, firm and inescapable. He’s almost glad it’s not a set of fangs, but he knows that won't last for long. The vampire shrieks, trying to tug his leg free.
The werewolf gives an experimental little tug of his own. Weighing practically nothing, the boy is slid out an inch by the slight force. It rubs him against the side of the crate, giving him a few more splinters.
The undead one hisses, shying away as he’s pulled out another inch. A good yank would have him out, and completely at their mercy.
He digs his claws into the wood, trying to wedge himself back in. All he succeeds in doing is giving himself a even more splinters.
There’s a long moment where nothing happens. And then, the hand releases. Tommy scrambles as far into his box as he can go, gasps in and out as quietly as he can. He knows it’s a flimsy ass excuse for protection, but it’s the only one he’s got.
“… I smell blood, and it's not human. He’s hurt, we need to get him out. I'll dump him, you catch him and hold him still while I get a look at him, okay?" Techno grunts, walking behind the box.
No, no no no he can't leave the box they'll KILL HIM if he goes out there. He may not be alive anymore, but he doesn't want to die die. Not a real death, not forever…
The box is lifted up, and Tommy wails in pure terror. It tilts, slow and steady. The Phil-hunter is standing with open arms, just waiting to catch him.
"It's okay, mate. It's safe to come out now. We won't hurt you. Come here." Phil coaxes softly. Yeah, that is not fucking happening.
The Vampire digs his claws in tight, staying in the box through pure desperation. Techno shakes the container, and Tommy's grip slips.
Arms wrap around him before he can fall far. He's tucked with his back to a chest, arms pinned to his sides. Trapped, helpless.
He struggles, cowering away from Techno’s reaching hand. It brushes against his face, tracing over the new burn. Fuck, here it comes…
He closes his eyes tight, bracing for claws to rake down his face. Instead, a hand cups his cheek. He whiiiiiiiines in fear, wincing as new tears bead up in his eyes.
He doesn't have any spare blood to waste like that. That doesn't stop the droplets of scarlet from dripping down his cheeks.
A thumb brushes away his tears, surprisingly gentle.
The werewolf licks his hand free of the bloody tears, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
"Old blood.” Techno states, grasping the child's chin. He presses against the base of Tommy’s fangs, one by one, feeling along the sore gums. “Sour venom, too. Pale gums. Anemia. Runt's starving. The farmer must have kept him longer than he claimed. Probably bled him, too. Typical human."
He tilts Tommy's head one way, then the other. It still doesn't hurt.
The undead child doesn't realize he's being turned till his lips brush against- red . A pulse . He's so HUNGRY, he's striking before he can think.
The fangs land true, and Tommy's mind fogs as sweet, fresh blood pools in his mouth. It's different then human blood, he can feel the magic crackling through him. It sings through his fangs, through his veins.
It's not everything he needs, but fuck. It's red, it's blood . The child whines needly, taking another greedy pull.
"Easy there, little mate. I know you're starved, but go slow. It's not going anywhere." Phil the hunter grunts, pain clear in his voice.
Tommy knows he's going too fast. He's biting down too hard, and he doesn't have any venom left to numb him. He's hurting the man. He can't slow down, can't make his jaw unclamp.
"Let me help." Techno offers, sending dread down the child's spine.
Shit, he can't stop. Techno is going to make him stop. Oh shit, no no no. His gums are sore and raw. It hurts when people try to pry open his mouth. It's locked into place, he can't help it .
Fingers brush over Tommy's jaw, and he yelps, curling in on himself the best he can manage. The undead child growls, the sound mostly muffled by the throat in his mouth.
The fingers aren't deterred. They begin to massage softly down his face, pressing against his jaw in just the right way. It's nice, really nice. He finds himself going completely limp, his fear fading against his will.
To everyone's relief, Tommy's grip loosens.
The kid's growl stutters down in confusion. That's not what people normally do. But it didn't really work, he's still stuck feeding. The easy way didn’t work… The hunter is going to hurt him now.
The undead one braces, but Techno simply continues to pet him, moving from his jaw to his neck. Even though the Vampire doesn't really need to breathe, it still puts him on edge having a hunter this close to his throat. He can still bleed out.
But no, they're being smart. They know a dying Vampire might vomit bad blood back up. If they kill him now, Phil might get hurt. Best wait till he lets go. Like dealing with a leach.
The child shudders, making sure he still has a firm grip on the bite. He was dead the moment he bit the man, probably the moment they opened the crate. So… he might as well die on a full stomach.
His gut cramps on the overflow of red. He needs blue, and soon. Tommy doesn't HAVE any blue, and this is his last meal, so it will have to do.
He can't eat anymore. He's nauseous on the red alone. His fangs release on their own. They're waiting for him to stop, he can't let go yet! He hastily tries to bite back down, but it's too late. Phil pulls him away, out of biting range.
The child whines, bracing himself as he's handed over to Techno. Instead of the harsh hold he was expecting, the werewolf cradles the kid in his arms. The vampire can hear a heartbeat, slow and steady. Tommy misses his own heartbeat, it’s far too quiet without it.
"There you go. Relax. You're doing great." Techno mutters into his ear, nuzzling against it afterwards.
The vampire stares up at the hunter with wide eyes, so still the child looks completely lifeless. Fingers run through his hair, soft and sure as they work through a tangle. A nose sniffs the child's hair, a soft puff of breath blowing a lock of gold to the side.
When's the last time touch didn't come with pain? Even before he was turned, people only ever hit him, beat him. After he became a vampire, it turned from fists to blades.
He waits, and watches. He has no idea why they haven't hurt him, why they would let him feed. He hates not knowing.
“YOU LET IT BITE YOU?” Wilbur’s shout sounds from the other room.
“Will, you don’t understand. He’s just a pup! A bat pup!” Phil exclaims in reply.
Footsteps quickly approach, accompanied by a muffled argument. Shit, he forgot about the third fucker. Wilbur walks through the door, trench coat billowing dramatically behind him, brown curls bouncing angrily from under his beanie.
The man glares around, still ranting at Phil, even though he's not even in the room.
So he’s not always that happy… Tommy is not relieved. The vampire shivers, huddling in on himself.
He can't look. The child turns his face away so he doesn't have to see. He accidentally presses his face into the crook of the werewolf's neck.
He's getting blood and snot all over Techno, but the werewolf doesn't yell at him for it, doesn't even push him away.
Wilbur gasps, his rant coming to a dead halt. Tommy knows he’s been spotted. He braces, whimpering as the man quietly walks over without another word.
"... Oh." Wilbur murmurs breathlessly. "He is a pup. The fuck. Who did this? Hello there, little blood sucker. Hello."
Shit. He sounds so close! The child tenses even more. He can hear Wilbur’s heartbeat, inches from his head.
The man holding him shifts positions, and the undead kid finds himself pinned with his back to a chest again.
The vampire struggles as they unwrap the bandages on his arm, daring to hiss. His arms already really fucking hurt, he doesn't want them to make it worse.
Fuck them! Can't they just leave him alone? He just wants them to go away! He hisses again, snapping his fangs as angrily as he can manage.
The Techno-hunter chuckles at him. Fuck him in particular!
A soft hand runs along the boy's arm, fingers tracing the row of cuts down his wrist. They don't hurt much anymore, but the half healed scars still feel uncomfortably stretched compared to the rest of his skin.
"That fucker bled him. He didn't know how to take care of a vampire, yet alone a vampire pup! Darling's lucky to be alive." Wilbur murmurs, mostly to himself.
The fingers get to the first splinter, and they stutter in their movement. The man runs a finger down the long sliver of wood, and Tommy lets out a loud whine of protest.
"Easy, easy does it. This will only prick for a moment. Deep breath, relax." Wilbur declares gently, wiping disinfectant over the kid's arm.
Tommy blanches, his stomach turning uneasily at the thought of them ripping and digging all these splinters out. Why would they bother? Why can't they just kill him quick?
A prick of pain, sharp and deep. It's over before he even finishes his yelp of panic. That hurt even more than he thought it would. He braces for the next stab of pain.
"I told you to relax. I'm sorry it hurt." Wilbur murmurs gently, still doing something to his arm.
Tommy feels an odd tugging along the limb, but it doesn't hurt. He hasn't pulled another sliver yet, then. What's taking so long?
The child peeks open a wary eye, just in time to see Wilbur reaching for the next splinter.
The undead one hisses, shying away. He hides his face, quivering with dread as he waits for the pain.
Still nothing. The vampire finally takes a full look. Wilbur is holding a splinter. Why is he still holding the splinter? The man sets it down, on a pile of bloody wood slivers, almost identical to each other.
Next to the pile sits an empty syringe, still glowing slightly from the residue of whatever magic it used to contain.
THEY DRUGGED HIM? With WHAT? That's what the pain had been. Not wood, but metal.
He tries to move the arm, but he can't even make his fingers twitch. The entire limb is completely numb.
Wilbur moves again and the kid sees the glint of metal. He's got a KNIFE. Tommy doesn't care if he's numb or not, he still doesn't want any more cuts. The vampire hisses, trying hopelessly to get away.
Wilbur ignores his struggles, continuing his work. The undead child watches as the scalpel makes the tiniest cut he's ever seen in his life. It… doesn’t hurt. The hunter presses the skin between nimble fingers, and a splinter is unburied. It is gently pulled out and soon joins the rest on the ground.
He's just… getting the wood out. That's it? Why??? Tommy was going to do that himself anyway, and it really doesn't hurt, so…
He stops struggling, and lets the man work. It feels like it takes hours. The kid feels himself slowly slipping into rest mode as the time stretches on.
Blinks come slow, and far between. Everything's more a blur of thermal colors than actual shapes, the voices of the Hunters coming through as merely hushed gibberish.
He's so tired. The little one wishes once again that he could still sleep.
Fingers snap in front of the vampire's face, only slightly drawing him out of his stupor. He blinks up at Wilbur, the words spoken to him are garbled nonsense to his ears.
Something cold is rubbed over his other arm, the wet sanitizer pulling him slightly from his daze. Tommy whines, he remembers what comes next. He braces, tensing as he waits for the hunter to jab him with the needle.
"Relax. It'll only hurt if you tense up like that. Deep breath for me, stay calm, there we go." Phil coxes from the side, running his fingers through the boy's hair.
Slowly, the child finds himself obeying whether or not he wants to. He breathes, even though he doesn't need to. All of his muscles fall limp.
The needle barely stings this time. Phil was telling the truth. The vampire whines softly, looking away as Wilbur expertly begins to pick the wood out of his other arm, one splinter at a time.
But why? Why get the splinters out? They must want him healthy for… something. Something bad. It’s no fun if the monster dies all on its own.
“Okay, that’s the last of it. He’s not healing, I hope that wasn’t too much for him at once…” Wilbur mutters worriedly.
"You did great, Will. Runt’ll be fiiiiine. All he needs now is a harming potion." Techno chuckles.
The Phil-Hunter uncorks a potion bottle. “Time to drink, little one. This will heal you right up, good as new”
Tommy tenses. Harming? That sounds bad, really bad. He doesn’t want to take whatever crap the hunter is shoving into his face. The Undead child snarls, biting at the glass container hard enough to make his teeth ache. The werewolf gives up quickly, backing off.
“Take him, Will. Give me the potion, Phil. I have a plan.” Techno states, his words spike the boy’s nerves. “Don’t worry, kid. This won't hurt a bit.”
Yeah right, that’s what the vampire said, too... The child shakes his head no, too tired to continue struggling.
He’s passed to a new pair of arms. Wilbur’s arms. The man snuggles him to his chest, cradling him gently.
The werewolf holds the bottle above the undead kid, and slowly tips it over.
“Techno! You almost splashed me. Don’t just do that out of the blue!” The Wilbur-hunter scolds, holding the vampire at arms length for a few seconds as the potion sizzles angrily.
What is it going to do? The brown haired one doesn't want to touch it, it's burning holes in his clothes!
Tommy wailes, flinching in on himself as the sticky liquid drips down his hair, his back. It tingles, almost stings. And fuck does it SMELL. It smells like death, like rot.
But… It doesn’t hurt. The liquid sizzles itself away, leaving him unharmed in its wake. The werewolf didn't lie.
The vampire feels… better. The sunburns don't sting anymore. He can feel his arms again, and they don't… hurt. He doesn't hurt . He always hurts, he's always hungry and cold and in pain.
"I'm going to set up the spare room for him. Make it more suitable for a vampire kit." Phil declares. "Techno, come with me. Will, stay and keep him calm. Do not lose him." The man in green orders, turning and walking away.
Spare? They have a spare torture room!? That's not good. Not good at all.
The hunter with pink hair follows with no hesitation, straightening his crown as he rounds the corner.
The undead boy starts to struggle, hissing when the brunette simply grabs his wrists and pins them. He almost bites, fuck does he want to. But he's not stupid. Wilbur was mad he bit Phil, he'll be really mad if Tommy bites him .
It's already going to hurt. He doesn't want to make it even worse …
The man hums softly, reaching for the undead one's head. The child flinches away, braced for pain. Fingers run through his hair, slow and steady.
The vampire leans into it, starved for it more than he was for blood. He needs it as much as he still needs blue.
He goes limp, letting Wilbur cradle him to his chest. The little one has no fight left in him, he's exhausted.
Wilbur makes a whimpery chirp of a sound, burying his nose in Tommy's hair. The child doesn't know what that means, it's a sound he's never heard before. Probably some stupid wolf noise, with some equally stupid wolf meaning behind it.
What's with these fuckers and smelling his hair??? It can't smell good , he hasn't bathed in months!
"Bring him in, mate." Phil calls from down the hallway. "We'll let him settle in, while we tie up the… loose ends." The man in a striped hat declares.
They get to the door. The child can't look, he can't face whatever they have planned for him. He cowers into Wilbur, whimpering quietly. The wolf shushes him, starting to set him down. Tommy growls, a stuttering little sound that ends in a whine.
His back touches something, and he jolts away. The child yelps, curling up as small as he can. It's… soft? He can't remember the last time something was this comfortable to lay on.
Something drapes over him, warm and grounding. A blanket? Why would they have blankets in their torture chamber? The vampire freezes, completely lifeless as he waits for the pain to start.
The wolves talk amongst themselves for a minute, Tommy can't understand them over the ringing in his ears. The hunters move away, their voices becoming muffled as the door clicks closed.
The child stays limp, playing dead as he waits for them to come back. He counts seconds. He gets to ten thousand. Then twenty thousand. At thirty thousand, he dares to sit up.
The blanked falls away. It's dark now. Completely dark. The vampire has excellent night vision, and even he can barely make out the vague shapes around him.
The undead kid jumps to the floor, completely silent. He tiptoes over to the window. It's boarded shut, every inch covered in a thick plank of wood. Not a single slither of sunlight makes it through.
Tommy doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not. The window won't burn him now, but it was also his only hope for escape.
He tries the door, not surprised when it proves to be locked. At least they can't make the handle out of silver, or it would burn them too.
The vampire crawls back onto the bed, grabbing all the blankets and pillows. He drags them underneath, and tries to shape them into a rudimentary nest. It's wrong, lumpy and uncomfortable. But it's the best he can do. He's never had anything to make a nest out of before.
He settles down into it, beginning to count again as he watches the door. He won't be caught off guard when they come back.