Actions

Work Header

silver bullet

Work Text:

“You don’t want to do this,” Geoff said, eyeing the hunter warily. Any sudden movements and she might fire again, and this time she might hit one of them. Tony was still in his arms and unconscious, the blood from the arrow in his side trickling onto Geoff’s forearm at an alarming rate.

“Oh, believe me.” The hunter accentuated her words with a click as she pulled the hammer back using her thumb. “I really do.”

Geoff weighed out his options, which were noticeably slimmer with Tony out of commission. If he could just get Tony inside the cabin, he could handle the hunter, but it would be risky to retreat when the hunter could attack. On the other hand, attacking the hunter first would put Tony in danger, and he couldn’t exactly leave him on the ground while he fought.

Making up his mind before the hunter could, Geoff bolted for the cabin. He felt rather than heard the shot, gritting his teeth against the pain that tore through his shoulder, only noticing that it was close to Tony, too close to Tony. His own blood mixed with Tony’s, and he offhandedly wondered what sort of fucked-up magic could be done with the combined blood of a werewolf and a vampire.

Another bullet lodged into the wooden wall of the cabin, inches away from Geoff’s face. He reared back on instinct, then scowled and scrambled inside the cabin as quickly as he could, slamming the door shut and locking it as fast as he could with a fully grown vampire in his arms.

“Shit. Geoff, what happened?” A small cleric wearing a brown hooded cloak stood behind Geoff, having leapt up from the floor instantly. “Is Tony okay?!”

Geoff just shook his head, a murderous expression taking over his features. “I need your help, Eli. There’s a vampire hunter outside.”

Eli’s eyes widened and he frantically zipped around the cabin, sweeping the dust off a table and gesturing for Geoff to place Tony upon it. Complying, Geoff watched as Eli brought out a cardboard box filled with various jars, bottles, and envelopes, setting it down on the table beside Tony and rummaging through it.

“Eli. Lay a protective spell over the cabin first,” Geoff commanded. “If she gets you, then we’re all done for.”

Although his breathing picked up considerably, Eli nodded and pressed a hand to the side of the cabin, muttering a spell under his breath. Tendrils of pale blue magic weaved through his fingers and seeped into the walls, the splintered wood glowing faintly before fading away until it left no trace.

As soon as the spell was complete, Eli spun around and started to examine the Tony that lay prone on the table. Blood was already pooling on its surface, and his already pale skin was even paler, taking on a greyish tint.

“Ohhh, not good, not good,” Eli mumbled, tearing away the parts of Tony’s clothing that obstructed his view and experimentally compressed different areas around the wounds, flinching when Tony made little sounds of pain in response.

“Can you handle this?” Geoff asked, wanting to stay and help but knowing that the hunter would be relentless unless dealt with.

“I… I think so? I don’t really know, I’ve never- I’m not-” Eli cut himself off to pick out a bottle from his box of supplies, shaking it vigorously. “Go, I’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.”

Geoff could tell that Eli was anything but fine, as he was even more restless than usual and his cheeks were flushed from the pressure, yet he knew that if he kept hovering he would only make him more nervous.

A banging sound came from the door, then a furious jiggling of the handle as if someone were trying to wrestle their way into the cabin. A gut-wrenching scream echoed from outside, followed by several shots being fired at the cabin. Geoff shook his entire body, feeling the familiar sensations as he fully turned into his werewolf form once more. The bullet in his shoulder was but a pinprick as he threw open the door, greeting the hunter with a bloodthirsty howl that rang through the forest, the rivers and mountains shuddering in remorse for the hunter’s fate. After all, she was still a living creature, albeit a corrupt one.

The hunter glared right back at Geoff, firing again at him and landing a shot into his thigh. When he didn’t react in the slightest, her smug front fell and she lowered the gun just slightly.

It was more than enough of an opening for him.

Rage obscured his vision, white-hot fury blanking his mind as he lunged, yanking the revolver out of the hunter’s hands and separating the barrel from the grip panel with a single snap of his teeth. For the second time that night, the hunter found herself flat against the ground, a seething Geoff eyeing her with disgust, his knees and hips pinning her down.

“You don’t want to do this.”

Geoff almost laughed. Was she really trying to use his own words against him? She had just attempted to kill both Tony and himself after he had mercifully let her live, and now she was begging for her life.

“Oh, believe me,” Geoff quoted her words from earlier as well, his claws tantalizingly close to her throat. “I really do.”

To his surprise, the hunter smirked. “You’re strong. I respect that. But that other one, he was weak. It was almost too easy. If you weren’t there to rescue him, I would have killed him just like that.”

With a roar of outrage, Geoff dug his claws into the hunter’s neck and tore through as much skin as he could, sending bursts of blood across the chests of both him and the hunter. She scrabbled helplessly at the arms holding her down, gasping as blood bubbled out of her mouth in rivulets, staining the grass and tainting the air with the smell of copper. Spasming wildly, the hunter’s body began growing limp, though she was hanging onto consciousness with every ounce of strength she had left. Geoff picked up her wrist in his mouth, piercing it just enough for a few drops of blood to seep over his tongue. Still alive, but just barely, the hunter gurgled out a pitiful cry, jerking her limbs uselessly.

The taste of blood triggered something feral in him, a sudden craving for violence and flesh. It was disturbing, but he listened to the urge. He wanted to tear her apart, he needed to feel her heart stop beating beneath his palm.

She spat in his face, her last act of hatred. The sneer on her lips showed no regret, no remorse.

“Don’t fuck with my Tony,” Geoff growled, then bit down.

Bones shattered and crunched in between his teeth, the hand flexing in agony before going as still as the rest of the hunter. She wasn’t dead just yet, but she would be soon.

Geoff swung his head to the side, effectively ripping the hunter’s arm from its socket, bone and sinew visible from beneath the tattered skin. He dropped the arm and crushed it beneath his heel, revelling in the snapping of bone and the squish of muscle. The mess spewed out over the ground, a grotesque ode to Geoff’s vicious rampage.

Not yet satisfied, he tore into her ribcage, the steaming contents of her innards on display for the unsettled forest. The animal within him craved more, more, more. Geoff’s vision went white, and when he came to, the hunter’s organs were all but destroyed and decorating her corpse like gory toppings on a sundae.

The temper receded, and Geoff almost dropped from the rapid drop in energy. He was exhausted, not used to maintaining his werewolf form for nearly a full day, and the bullets in him were beginning to sting. Casting one last glare at the hunter, he left her body for the maggots and crows in a state of ruin; her throat shredded, arm mangled and separate from the rest of her, and her guts mutilated, all lying in a bath of an obscene amount of blood.

Staggering back to the cabin, Geoff grimaced at the increasing pain radiating from the bullet wounds, and a closer look confirmed his fears. Silver bullets. He hated to trouble Eli even further, but he would need them removed or they could end up fatal.

When he stumbled through the door, he saw Eli tiredly slumped against the table where Tony lay. Eli sprang to his feet as soon as registered Geoff’s wounds, brows knit in worry.

“Not you too,” he said desperately, guiding Geoff to a chair. Most of the supplies were haphazardly tossed around the cabin, causing Eli to turn in circles in order to find what he needed.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Geoff tried to ease Eli’s concern, but it clearly didn’t work.

Eli shot him a dirty look, gesturing vaguely at him with the purple bundle of dried plants in his hand. “You’ve been shot twice.”

Shutting his mouth with a snap, Geoff conceded to the fact that he did in fact need quite a bit of medical attention. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on shifting back into his human form to make it easier for Eli to tend to him. A wave of dizziness crashed over him once the shift was complete, combining with the pain still throbbing from the bullet wounds, and he had to fight to not pass out.

“Shit, Geoff, focus on me, okay?”

Hearing Eli’s voice was enough for Geoff to blearily open his eyes. The cleric was holding a pair of forceps in one hand and disinfectant-soaked gauze in the other, watching Geoff with an expression that he didn’t understand in his near-delirious state.

“Is Tony… is he okay?” Geoff managed to say, peering over Eli’s shoulder at Tony, still motionless on the table.

“He’s fine.” Eli softened, seeing Geoff’s concern for their Tony. “But I need you to stay awake and hold still, okay? This might hurt, but I’ll be quick.”

Geoff nodded, blinking away the spots in his vision, refocusing on the bright blue of Eli’s eyes. The pain was bearable when he had the two of them with him. Anything was bearable when he had them.

If his Tony was okay and his Eli was okay, then he was okay.

They were okay.