A Fan Fiction Short Story

The first week of every August, I participate in GISH, the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt. It's not a scavenger hunt in the traditional sense. I don't go running around town looking for obscure items. Created by actor/poet Misha Collins (Castiel from Supernatural), GISH raises money for charities by putting out a long list of crafts, stunts, and so on for participants to get creative and complete. Some require a team, while others can be completed alone. Some require you to leave your home, while many do not.

This year, one of the items was to write a crossover fan fiction short story combining a character from a 90s show/movie/book/game with a character from a 00s show/movie/book/game in the setting of a 10s show/movie/book/game.

This is my entry. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

If you'd like to learn more about GISH (and I encourage you to do so because it's a blast!), visit the website:  www.gish.com

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 Content warning: blood, murder

 

Eric Northman and his companion formed an odd duo approaching the rundown Shreveport home at human speed. No need to draw unnecessary attention, even in this neighbourhood. Dressed head to toe in black, Eric moved through the sweltering Louisiana night with the ease and grace of a natural predator, looking and feeling like a creature conjured from the darkness itself.

If he was a panther, the wisp of a man in an impeccably tailored suit to his left was a squirrel, jittery and hyper. With a wrinkled nose, Niles Crane took in the boarded-up windows and overgrown jungle of a yard and said, “There was a time I would rather have tendered my resignation to the Empire Club dressed in sweatpants than be seen here.”

“There was a time I would have torn your out heart and drank from it for fun. Times change.” If Eric had a pulse, it would be racing with anticipation. It took all his self-control not to round the corner at vamp speed.

Niles grimaced at the dense grass of the backyard, as high as the sideview mirrors of the rusty, broken-down cars. “I still fail to understand why we could not have met your business associate in more pleasant surroundings.”

“The sooner I show you what Nan Flanagan sent you to uncover, the sooner you’ll stop pestering me and Pamela.” His words had their desired effect. Seeing Niles flinch filled Eric with a heady sense of satisfaction.

To his credit, Niles tried to hide his fear, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. “I beg your pardon. Are you implying I’m a spy?”

Allowing his fangs to drop, Eric clapped his huge hand on Niles’s shoulder. It reminded him of petting a parakeet. “Be grateful that you amuse me. Otherwise, you would be dead and Nan would be searching for another…assistant.” After prowling the planet for a thousand years, not much amused him anymore, not until the saucy Sookie Stackhouse entered his life, and now this neurotic little man who still occasionally fainted at the sight of blood. He almost wanted to keep him. “Now be a good little bird and open the door.”

Trembling, his gaze locked on Eric’s long, gleaming fangs, Niles slid the sheet of plywood to the side and immediately covered his nose. “What is that stench?”

This, too, amused Eric. Baby vampires, forgetting that they had no need to breathe.

“Urine, mould, and the dead raccoon I found in the corner.” Dressed in cargo pants and an untucked button-down with rolled sleeves, Eric’s ‘business associate’ stepped out of the shadows, wiping sweat from his upper lip. In the dim light leaking from the next room, he looked Niles up and down. “You brought a friend.”

“Dexter, meet Niles. His ex-wife recently turned him out of revenge for his falling in love with his father’s caregiver, one Daphne Moon.” What a name.

Bloody tears filled Niles’s eyes. “Forever cursed to wander alone in the moonlight. Maris’s sense of irony. She paid a vampire to turn her when she exhausted her plastic surgery options. Now she sits forever youthful in her villa, surrounded by pool boys and yoga instructors, while I am reduced to playing servant in places I wouldn’t—”

Eric arched his left brow. “Be caught dead in?” Fighting the urge to smile, and while Niles sputtered, he turned back to Dexter. “Nan Flanagan’s latest pet, sent to discover why I have been spending more time than usual away from Fangtasia.”

Dexter frowned. “Nan Flanagan? Of the Vampire Authority? And you brought him here?”

“Are you questioning my judgement?”

Dexter stepped back. “Of course not.”

Eric took a shallow sniff, craving the scent of fear that he knew would be hanging dense in the air. It was particularly powerful coming from the next room. He could wait no longer. As he pushed past Dexter, he said, “Niles knows better than to reveal the truth of our arrangement, don’t you, little squirrel?”

“Of course, Sheriff Northman. My lips are sealed. Pandora’s box shall remain unopened. Harpocrates has nothing on Niles Crane. As I once said to Frasier…”

The familiar feel of the protective plastic layer crinkling under his feet, the sight of the terrified man strapped naked to Dexter’s kill table and the sound of his hammering heart all overwhelmed Eric’s senses, drowning out Niles’s words. Seeing Eric, the man tried to scream through the plastic wrapped across his mouth and behind his head. On the man’s neck was the telltale pinprick of blood where Dexter had taken the man by surprise, injecting him with a powerful sedative before transporting him to the kill room he always prepared in advance. If Eric were still human, saliva would be pooling in his mouth.

Behind them, Niles stuttered to a standstill. “What the devil?”

Neither of them answered him. The ritual had begun.

Dexter, a recent transplant from Miami, went through his customary speech, using photos of the corrupt politician’s victims to tell him why he deserved to die. This was the code Dexter lived by, satisfying his urge to kill by only targeting those who escaped other forms of justice. And this was how Eric had met him. Eric’s lips twitched at the memory of Dexter’s shock and terror the moment he realized that his intended victim wasn’t human and had been stalking him in turn. It was convenient, their arrangement. In exchange for providing Eric with food—real blood, not the revolting synthetic stuff—Eric allowed Dexter to hunt humans in his territory and disposed of the bodies for him. Most importantly, at least to Dexter, he allowed Dexter to live. While Dexter could no longer kill his victims himself, Eric still allowed him the pleasure of one non-fatal stab.

As Dexter spoke, Niles drifted closer and closer to the table, his fangs out. Eric gave him a warning glance. He wasn’t to eat until given permission.

The moment he finished speaking, Dexter unsheathed his hunting knife and Eric swooped in on the man. His fangs and Dexter’s blade sank into the man at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, Eric noticed blood spatter onto Niles’s sleeve.

“Do you mind?” Niles said, enunciating each word. “This is an Armani!” A split second later, he hit the floor with a quiet thump.

Amusing indeed.

 

 FRASIER (1993-2004), DEXTER (2006-2013), TRUE BLOOD (2008-2014)