Dark Knight's Heir - Chapter one

[mangacat201]

Dark Knight's Heir

Author: Mangacat

Pairing: Jared/Jensen, others

Rating: R - NC-17

Parts: 1/?

Word Count: 3550/?

Disclaimer: I totally wanna own them... cough sadly that's not possible, nor is getting paid for this. I'll have fun and they're not going to get hurt … much. Promise.

Warnings: Erm, m/m sex, violence, language, gore (i.e. epic battle of the good against the bad), het sex (OMG), character death (minor).

Summary: Jared Padalecki lives a Joe Average life with his fiancee... until a handsome stranger with an unbelievable story and a mysterious tale of destiny breaks the peace to safe his life.

A/N1: Ok guys, I split the chapters in two, so instead of monthly, I'm aiming for a bi-weekly schedule. I know the wait sucks, but I don't want to run out of things to post too soon, so there. A plus, there will be Birdie's art all over the place in this and when we got most of the players on stage, we'll also have a cast list pulled up, yeah?

A/N: This is what you get when you don't let your best friend talk you out of adopting. This plot bunny is courtesy to imogen-lily (go and look at her bunny community!!) thanks to her for support and beta efforts, as well as candygramme!!

AND I can't really shower her with the fitting amount of devotion and appreciation for art that is beyond amazing, life review and the occasional kick into the catty butt.

Gear up the drums for the all amazing insane_songbird.

Without you I wouldn't be where I am now, this one's for you babe.

Prologue

The jingle of the key in the lock sounded through the empty hallway of the apartment and the slowly opening door admitted a young man in his early twenties. He let the brief case he had been carrying fall down to the floor beside the coat-rack by the door and loosened his tie to pull it over his head while he got his shoes off. Then he turned to head down the hallway, passing the door to the living room.

“Honey, I’m home.”

“I hope you’re not serious about greeting your partner like that.”

The silky smooth, but completely foreign voice made his steps falter, then backtrack to the living room door, poking his head in sideways.

“Hi, uhm, are you a friend of Tom’s? Did he let you…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but his body moved fully into the doorway on its own accord. The sight that met his eyes was truly stunning. In his living room, leaning against the back of the beige couch, a young man stood, feet crossed at the ankles, apparently completely relaxed. He was maybe a few years his senior and wore black, fitted trench coat with the collar turned up, shielding half of his profile from view. His bright and alert eyes cast a side-ways glance to the young man in the door. He felt his shoulders tense and his fingers involuntarily dug into the door jamb, something was off.

“No, Tom didn’t let me in. And as a matter of fact? We’re about as far from being friends as one can possibly get.”

“Who are you?”

The black coated man raised an eyebrow at the heated question.

“Huh, curious… the question you really want to ask, Jared, is who are you?”

Chapter one

Jared flinched violently away from the doorway, completely taken aback. This whole situation had just been catapulted so far into movie-verse, it was not even funny anymore. In reaction he found himself snarling at the handsome stranger who had set up camp in his living room, seemingly so at ease.

“Yeah right, and now you’re going to tell me that I was adopted as a child, because my parents died in some serious, all-magic shit-out, and some real, old-school monsters have been trailing my ass since the time I was young enough to still be afraid of what was in the closet, except now the shit’s about to hit the fan, so I’ve got to step up to my destiny, find my secret superpowers and whip the ass of said nasties. That about it?”

That had been thrown together on a moment's notice, and he'd fabricated it out of thin air with his (admittedly) lively imagination, but the way the stranger raised an eyebrow and looked at him speculatively made him choke on a hasty gulp of air.

“You’re not serious!”

“Well, but you summed it up quite nicely.”

“I was joking, for heaven’s sake, I don’t know how you got in here, or why you know my name, and whatever’s going on in your head? Just that, and I’m sure as hell not some … what… vampire hunter like.. Van Helsing.”

“Except you’re just that. And for the record, Van Helsing never was all that much into vampires. That’s just some bullshit a romanticizing fiction writer made up.”

“Oh yeah, what is he into then.”

“Demons of course - the real nasty ones. You should know… it’s in your blood.”

Jared looked at the other man incredulously for a moment, taking the implications and discarding them immediately as insane rubbish. His nostrils flared suddenly with barely restrained fury.

“Whatever, just… get out.”

“You should at least…”

“I said, GET OUT, I’m not going to repeat myself.”

To his utter surprise, the stranger did just that, picked up his lean frame from his perch on the sofa, brushed past Jared and headed out of the hallway opening the door. He only hesitated a second there, didn’t even turn half to shoot a last glance over his shoulder.

“You’ll know it’s time. Soon enough.”

 

When the door closed Jared sagged against the wall as if all strength had been sucked from his bones. He was even debating whether or not to chalk it up to a really weird, impossibly funny daydream and be done with it, except those eyes kept boring into his skull, and the heat of the body brushing past his just now still felt very real and tangible. Not to mention the slight scent of burning wood and autumn wind that still lingered in his place. If his visitor was real, then he had been one psycho nut-job, probably breaking into random apartments, trying to scare people with the same crazy story all over, and he might be lucky to be still alive. Although the stranger had exuded nothing like a threat. and he hadn’t really done any of the talking. Still, him being a closet demon hunter with a murky past? Snowball’s chance in hell. He turned back to shuffle into his little kitchen to fix himself some dinner while he waited for his inadvertedly late boyfriend – no fiancée now. The living room and the kitchen were combined and rather tiny – there was only room for the couch, a large TV set, a cooking space with the barest essentials and a table to hold maybe six persons interested in playing some footsie. Still, he loved the apartment’s layout as the bedroom was big enough to hold his special-sized bed (most prized possession) very comfortably. He could live with just about anything, but sleeping cramped up in a too short bed? The horror!

Whenever Jared had to wait for something, he tended to wander around, preferably with food in hand. It was a habit his momma had seriously tried to snap him out of since he was old enough to walk around while eating, (which at that time had not necessarily involved waiting for anything), but every attempt so far had been in vain. He questioned his own restlessness sometimes, but he just liked to move around letting his gaze linger on gadgets and pictures, turning them into memories. He found himself in front of the photo that had been taken at a party held by some friends shortly after Tom had proposed to him. He’d joyfully accepted even if he’d never thought of actually taking their relationship to this level so fast. It had been a really happy moment - all smiles and clinking glasses in the background. Now though the longer he looked at their faces, the more those expressions seemed to change. Suddenly his fiancés steel-blue eyes seemed to have a dangerous glint to them, and in the edges of his smile there seemed to lurk something malicious, while his own face appeared to take on a blank quality that spoke of a mindlessness he knew he definitely did not possess. It scared him to view his own face like that, and he wrenched his gaze away with effort, hand coming up to rub between his brows where a searing ache had settled. He wandered into the bathroom to take one of those migraine pills Tom had helpfully gotten him from the apothecary. They helped a lot with the headaches that had been a recurrent guest of his for the last couple of months. When he came back out of the bathroom, he could see the last light of the day fade through the panorama windows along the kitchen alcove. A glance at the clock revealed that Tom was seriously late now, and Jared sighed, preparing himself for a lonely night. It wasn’t uncommon for Tom to go away for a day and a half, maybe on very short notice when it concerned the business of the fancy law firm where he was working. But if he couldn’t manage it upon leaving, he would at least try to get a message to him on his first break, to let Jared know not to worry.

He was woken up in the morning by a curious and fierce sunbeam that crawled up under his lids to seemingly heave them open without his permission. Hand swatting uselessly, he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and watched the still red and heavy winter sun climb up a few more notches on the ladder, until his brain provided him with the helpful information that if it was after sunrise he was most certainly going to be late for work. He cursed himself for having slept through the alarm yet again; his boss was going to SKIN him. He leapt out of bed to scramble for some vaguely clean, slightly unruffled clothes and without so much as actually toasting the toast before eating, he grabbed his briefcase and was out of the door in under ten minutes. He sure as hell only remembered after hopping onto the bus that he wanted to check for any message Tom might have left him, but after patting all of his pockets and rifling through his briefcase, he recalled putting his cell on the nightstand just in case. It was still lying cosily there now, of course. Well, he was going to live through one day without his cellphone, and, if luck shone on him today, Tom might even be back before he got home from work.

When he finally got to work, he shuffled to his cubicle, hoping that the boss would be trapped in his office with some serious business and not have noticed his considerably late arrival.

“Padalecki, you’re staying for overtime! One more of these stunts, and this is it; you hear me?”

No such luck then. Jared flopped down into his standard size office chair (no comparison to that custom-sized bed he had to leave high and dry at home) and began sorting through his case notes for the day. Selling insurance via the phone certainly hadn’t been his idea of a career dream come true, but for the moment it was paying the bills, and even if he had been stuck here for longer than originally anticipated, he was sure this would be a passing and not permanent phase in his life. So he ignored the threats from his boss, gnashed his teeth at the well deserved overtime slap and set out to work on his cases as meticulously as ever. He tried to tune out the whole hustle and bustle that went on around him from approximately fifty people on the phone at the same time, but after three straight hours he needed something to rev the engine again and got up for a much needed break and a coffee. The break room was devoid of people, but of course there were about two mugs worth of the slowly congealing, lukewarm mass left that passed for caffeine in this office. Just when he had poured himself some, he heard the door open behind his back, and a familiar female voice piped a greeting.

He turned around to find Joan, who worked a few cubicles over and with whom he regularly exchanged a friendly word or two. He promptly let the mug drop from numb fingers. Only the china that crashed and spilled brown speckles all over his pants brought him out of his shock and he gaped down at the mess at his feet, while Joan let out a surprised gasp and hurried towards him.

“Oh, Jared, are you alright?”

He blinked at her dumbfounded for a second, and then his head clicked into gear again.

“What? Oh, oh, yeah, it just sort of slipped through my fingers, you know?”

The woman clucked her tongue and shook her head at his obvious clumsiness and then bent over the counter to get some tissue.

“Yeah, you’re just one big oaf, aren’t you?” she delivered jokingly. “One of these days you’re going to get yourself in serious trouble, and we sure as hell shouldn’t trust you with sharp objects, right?”

He bent down to pick up the pieces of the shattered mug and found his footing in the conversation again.

“Of course, but you know it’s just the gods up there throwing a dice and coming up with, oh, that one just doesn’t deserve coffee today.”

“Well, there’s still a cup in the pot; you can try once more.”

“Oh, no you take that, you need it just as well.”

She looked at the coffee pot on the counter and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I don’t even know why you bothered; that stuff in there isn't fit to wipe the floor with.”

And she proceeded to get a new pot running, while Jared shook his head slightly.

“Then I’ll just wait until that one’s done and get first dibs instead.”

He winked with a smile and put the last of the shards in the trash can, then turned and walked out of the break room, going in the direction of the men’s restroom. He didn’t notice her sharp eyes following him through the glass of the door, cataloguing all his movements, until he vanished from sight.

Cold water splashed into his palm, and Jared rubbed his hands over his eyes, drawing his hair back. He leaned over to the mirror and peered at his reflection, his gaze dancing over his features, finally stopping to look into his eyes as if the answers lay behind them inside his own head. It had to be his own head, the stress, upheaval of the last few days with work, and the still rather fresh feeling of his engagement, because there was no way that what he’d seen had actually been before his eyes. When he closed his lids though, the vivid image of the encounter a few minutes ago played again – as though he noticed the room going darker, colder somehow and a flicker of distinctive shadow crawled into the periphery of his vision, until he’d turned around…

Jared shook his head fiercely, making little drops of water splatter all along the sink, and he felt that headache slither up to him again. He wished he’d brought the pills Tom had gotten him, but they sat comfortably at home in the bathroom cupboard, the same way his cell lay on the bedside table. He couldn’t do anything about it now; he had to get back to work and not waste his break anymore over useless pondering. Instead he decided to see an optometrician on the way back home, to rule out any physical ailment that might be responsible for his skewed vision, causing these flares. There was no way after all, that, even if only for a moment, Joan could have flames flickering around her limbs and head like a halo, making her features gaunt and sucking each little drop of colour from her skin, hair scorched black and skin flaking away in ribbons.

Damn him for arriving late to work, because the overtime caused him to miss the last bus on the direct route out near his usual station. Now he had to get off at a different stop and then walk seven blocks to his apartment building, which sucked something fierce as the weather was turning really unfriendly this night. The first snow of winter had already fallen and was lying brushed away from the sidewalk in little huddles, some of it turned to slush from the days warming sun. He thought it would become dangerous fast with the falling temperatures of nightfall. It would turn to black ice, and, with his luck, he was bound to end up on his rear at least once come morning, when the familiar routine of going to work kicked in again. Still even with the low temperatures and the dreary dark sky, it was still early enough for the streets to be bustling with people that hurried along, huddled into their coats, just like him. Jared felt different though today, brief-case pressed against his chest like that would keep the cold wind at bay. He had the uncanny feeling of being separated from the moving crowd. Because of his height he was used to people swerving around him and not running him over, but today people seemed to unconsciously give him a wider berth than usual, and he could feel a persistent flickering at the very edge of his vision, as if someone or something was moving just out of his visual field. He was beginning to worry in earnest, as he’d had his eyes checked out not an hour ago just to be pronounced perfectly healthy and advised to try a neurologist soon if there was no improvement. And wasn’t that a most calming statement? That made his mind draw out theories from psychosomatic stress reaction to brain tumour. Maybe he could even get one of those fancy aneurisms.

That’s when he noticed that he was being followed. For real, like corporeal, in the flesh and not even trying to be subtle (of course he would have no chance to find out otherwise with his untrained eye). His heart sped up immediately as he tried to figure out if he was still just seeing things, and maybe these guys (three at least) were not following him, but that guy with the shifty stance up there on the sidewalk a few yards up. So he tried to look inconspicuous and went into a little game of dodge to see if they would follow his movements, all the while drawing quick glances over his shoulders to ascertain that there was at least one of the guys exactly five steps and two people behind him, eyes fixed on his back with what seemed to be rather malicious intent. He was considering the shortest way to his apartment which was approximately one and a half blocks away, when he shot a glance behind himself again and almost felt his steps falter for a moment. Only sheer physical memory kept his feet on track, while his mind occupied itself with denying the possibility of what he had seen. The guy on his left side had had black eyes… well, not really, not the shiny, reflective black dome that made up the whole eyeball, but… just a black vortex where his eyes should have sat, like nothingness reaching back far further than should have been possible in his skull, and his skin seemed to have a poisonous green tinge, hanging flappy about his bones like hot melted caramel. Jared refused to close his eyes, trying not to lose his footing and avoided replaying the image, but he felt the pounding of his heartbeat from the inside of his skull and gripped the edges of his brief-case so tightly that his knuckles grew white, and a strange ache radiated down into his wrists, making him bone-weary. When the first possible short-cut to his apartment building presented itself, rational thought was quickly overthrown by the need to find sanctuary, a shelter, a threshold with a door to close on all this madness that seemed to have taken over his life within the course of a day. He belatedly realized that he had darted into a narrow dark back alley full of junk, and that the end of it was really, really far away, or so it seemed. And that meant he had manoeuvred himself into a position where the people behind him could catch up real easy, and no-one would come running should they hear screams from this place. Right and left there were at least five storeys worth of brick wall going up.


Chapter Two