#and we're just gonna go with Supernatural Stuff to explain why vampire blood would completely replace your own blood

[lvllns]

and i’m feeling colder than i feel is good

the wayhaven chronicles. ~2.5k words. little bit of felix and kincaid, but it’s not the focus. mild book 3 demo spoilers, very brief and nothing plot relevant. this idea has been rattling around in my head since the first chapter of the demo and i finally sat down to write it. detective becomes a vampire au? i guess?

Standing in a shitty rest stop bathroom, Kincaid watches his split knuckles mend and thinks that he should have seen this coming.

—

Three months ago, one month after Murphy’s attack.

Kincaid slumps back against his chair. Scrubs his hands over his face and groans as he leans forward to press his face to his desk. Between the Agency and the station, reports and paperwork have piled up. Stacks that threaten to tumble to the ground at even the slightest touch. He’s trying, really he is, to catch up even the tiniest little bit but it feels like a fruitless endeavor.

Especially when Tina sheepishly slaps another folder down, playfully thwapping it on the back of his skull. “Got more for you.”

“No thanks,” he mumbles with a shake of his head. “I’m not acceptin’ any more paperwork currently.”

Tina laughs. Pats his shoulder before giving it a squeeze. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t think the Captain would appreciate that.”

With a frustrated huff, Kincaid sits up, eyes narrowing at the mess all over his workspace. “Why the fuck are there so many reports? The fuck is happening in this sleepy town?” He picks one up. Squints and scoffs as he drops it back down. “Another case of mysteriously dying flowers from someone with a dog.”

“You need a break.”

“I need to retire.”

“You have a few years yet,” Tina says with another reassuring pat to his back. “Ah, you have company.” She winks at him and heads for the door. “You’ll help him relax, right?”

Kincaid looks up from his computer to see Felix walk in, coffee cup and bag from Haley’s in hand.

He grins, bright eyes flashing with mischief, as he rests a hand against his chest in an attempt to look affronted. “In his office Tina?”

“Knew I liked you for a reason!” She taps the middle of his forehead before vanishing into the hallway, shutting the door with a muted click behind her.

Felix settles himself in the chair opposite Kincaid and cocks his head. “You look exhausted.”

“I sleep like shit, you know this.”

He hums. “I do, which is why I brought you these!”

Before Kincaid can react, there’s a steaming cup of coffee in his face, the bag rustling as it settles next to a stack of reports. He plucks the drink from Felix’s hand, letting his touch linger as long as he can before pulling away. The vampire shifts in his seat, grin fading to an honest smile, soft but no less bright. Kincaid takes a deep breath, a rumbling groan escaping him as the smell of coffee overwhelms his senses.

When he takes a sip though, it tastes...off.

His face screws up, nose wrinkling. It’s not bad, something is just a little to the right of normal. It’s like he can feel individual grains of sugar on his tongue. The coffee is more bitter, coating his tongue and throat so heavily it’s almost difficult to swallow.

“What’s wrong?” Felix leans forward, eyebrows knit together.

Kincaid holds the cup in front of him. He shrugs. Takes another sip and it’s better this time, going down smoother. “Nothin’, guess I’m just used to the shitty instant coffee here.” He smiles. “Thank you, Felix. I needed this.”

The shorter man hums. “You’re welcome. I grabbed you a couple of those scones you like too.” Kincaid could kiss him, and he almost does but Felix keeps talking. “I...may have dumped a little too much sugar into your coffee because I know you use a lot but I wasn’t sure how exactly much so.”

Kincaid bursts out laughing.

Writes off the weird texture in his mouth as Felix’s over eager hand.

—

Two months ago, two months after Murphy’s attack.

“Do you smell that?” Kincaid whips his head around, nostrils flaring.

The werewolves are retreating, scrambling away with their teeth bared and hackles raised. Something has them bolting and he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth but he catches a scent on the wind.

Mason looks at him. “Smell what?” His face screws up. “Ugh! The fuck?!”

They both throw their arms over their faces. Kincaid’s breathing goes ragged as he tries to take in oxygen without letting the smell overwhelm him. It’s musky, thick. Reminds him of old fur coats and wet dog. There’s a small part of him that is glad it doesn’t reek of death, but the musty scent isn’t that much better.

Whatever this smell is, it’s hitting him hard. He feels a little dizzy, and a little like he’s going to be sick. When he looks back at Mason, he finds himself being watched already. There’s a knot between Mason’s brows, silver eyes calculating, but he says nothing. Just keeps his own nose pinched shut as he mumbles about the benefits of not having to breathe.

He’s leaning against a tree when the other three make it into the clearing. Felix looks relieved he’s alive, heading straight for him. Kincaid is so busy trying not to pass out as they leave the clearing that he hardly pays attention to what anyone is saying.

Well, until Nate mentions the name of the plant.

“The crown imperial plant?” Kincaid wipes at his face. “That explains the smell,” he mumbles.

Mason’s eyes snap to him again and there’s something there. He makes a smart comment about having two Nates but says nothing else.

“It’s strong,” Nate says apologetically. “Even for humans.”

“It fuckin’ reeks of musty fur,” Kincaid grumbles, arms crossing over his chest.

Now Adam looks at him. Searching and seeking. He feels like he’s being pulled apart and displayed for the team leader to examine at will. Adam suggests they head back to the warehouse, though it takes longer than usual for him to pull his gaze away from Kincaid.

He writes this off as the two of them being annoyed at having another Nate in their midst.

—

One month ago, three months after Murphy’s attack.

Insomnia is an old friend at this point.

Kincaid rarely sleeps longer than three hours at a time, sometimes four if he’s lucky, and that’s on the nights he can even get to sleep. Night after night of shitty sleep, catching an hour here and there, isn’t unusual.

So he thinks nothing of it when he’s running on two hours of sleep for the sixth day in a row. A full coffee cup sits on his desk next to him, though he hasn’t touched it after he took the first sip. It’s too bitter. He’s been using less and less sugar, less creamer, less everything lately because it’s become too cloying. Trying to swallow a mouthful of sweetened coffee is like trying to eat gravel. It sticks in his throat. He didn’t realize he was being obvious about his change in taste until Felix made a comment the other day about not dumping a whole shaker of sugar into his drink.

Easy enough to write off as getting older, the sugar no longer agreeing with his palate like it did when he was in college.

He smells Felix before he sees him. A burst of bright citrus and something else that he can’t place. Kincaid looks up the moment Felix walks through the door to his office.

The vampire hits the brakes. Blinks and smiles. “I was going to sneak up on you.”

Kincaid chuckles. “Good luck, I smelled you coming.”

“What?” Felix appears in front of him, a warm hand on his chin tilting his head back. “You smelled me coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice going low and soft as it always does around Felix. “You smell like oranges and lemons.”

“Huh.” The hand falls away from his face. Felix lifts his shirt to his nose and takes a deep inhale.

“Darlin’, what are you doing?” Kincaid chuckles as he speaks, hands moving to rest on the other man’s thighs.

“You said I smelled!”

“Good! You smell good!”

Felix laughs. Leans forward to bury his nose in Kincaid’s hair on the top of his head. “New laundry detergent I think. Maybe. I don’t know, I borrowed some of whatever Nate uses.”

Simple then, to explain that away as a change in routine.

—

Two weeks ago, nearly four months after Murphy’s attack.

That...hasn’t happened before.

Kincaid blinks. Looks down at his hands. Looks up at the training dummy.

Or, what’s left of it.

He’s knocked the head clean off. It went sailing across the room, knocking against the wall. When he swung again, a chunk of the shoulder went flying.

He flexes his hands. Curls them into fists tight enough his knuckles bleed ivory. They haven’t changed. They’re still covered in freckles, a little more tan from all his time outside in the summer sun. Nothing that would explain why he’s just busted up a training dummy that he’s seen Adam hit with no problem.

Curiosity gets the better of him.

With a shake of his head, he squares himself up.

Takes a centering breath.

And swings.

Another head goes flying off the next dummy. He kicks, hard. Knocks the next one right off the metal post holding it upright. He stops then, not wanting to destroy everything in the room. This...doesn’t seem good. His mind starts racing but before he can connect any dots, he hears Adam approaching the room.

Kincaid turns. Faces the other man as he walks in and halts immediately, eyes surveying the damage. Three busted up training dummies and one man who probably looks incredibly confused.

“Did you…?” Adam trails off as he speaks, eyes narrowing.

“Uh, yeah.” Kincaid rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry?”

Adam waves his apology away. “Do not worry about it. I was in here early this morning, I must have weakened them.”

He can feel the sharp, knowing stare of the other man on him but Kincaid can’t bring himself to look his way. Instead, he takes a deep breath and nods.

Easy enough to write that off as well.

—

Present day, a little over four months after Murphy’s attack.

His knuckles just healed.

They were broken and busted, bleeding profusely, and he just watched them knit back together.

“Oh no,” he whispers. Looking up, he catches his reflection in the dirty mirror, wide-eyed and horrified. “Oh no, no way.”

Everything crashes down on him then. He thinks about the mission, the case. How he was quicker than he expected. When one of the Trappers rushed him, he slipped out of the way without a thought, his reflexes sharper than they’ve ever been. He kicked the door open to their busted up hideout, putting a hole in the wall and tearing the door off some of the hinges.

Old building, weak enough for his human strength to help it crumble.

Kincaid takes a ragged breath and jolts when he doesn’t remember the last time he did that voluntarily. The smells in the hideout had been overwhelming. Rot and dust, mold and the coppery tang of blood. He had covered his nose, pinched it shut, and as he thinks about it now, he realizes that he never once opened his mouth to take a breath.

Someone pounds on the bathroom door. “You good cowboy?”

Mason.

His shoulders drop and he presses his forehead against the mirror. “I...I don’t know.”

Silence.

No, not silence. He can hear him walking away. He can hear his heartbeat fade, and another one get stronger as someone new approaches. Kincaid realizes he can hear all of their hearts beating over the rushing in his ears.

And then, ripping him from his spiral, “Kincaid?” The door creaks open as Felix pokes his head in, amber eyes wide with worry. “What’s…” His gaze drops to what should be a mess of torn up flesh. “Um.” Felix goes tense, every muscle in his body tightening up. “Maybe I should get Adam?”

Kincaid can’t pull his focus away from his healed hands as he says, “That’s probably a good idea.”

—

They’re all piled in a tiny hospital room at the facility, Kincaid laying back on the bed with his eyes shut and an arm thrown over his face.

“I’m a right fuckin’ idiot,” he grits out.

“You are not.” Felix shoves his arm, not the one they pulled a ridiculous amount of blood from at least. “I don’t think anyone would expect, well, this.”

“He’s right Cade,” Nate says, voice calm and low. He’s speaking like he’s trying to steady a spooked horse, and really he’s not that far off. “This is certainly nothing any of us expected.”

Kincaid drops his arm to the bed. Stares at the ceiling for a minute before he says, “There were a lot of signs.”

“What?” Adam steps closer, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Food stopped tasting good.” Kincaid sighs as he sits up. “Couldn’t even dump half a cup of sugar into my coffee anymore. The sleep thing, I haven’t slept longer than three hours a night in weeks now.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, feet settling on the floor. “My senses are sharper. I destroyed some of those training dummies.”

“Those are easy enough to write off.” Felix hops up to sit next to him. Leans his head against Kincaid’s shoulder and laces their fingers together.

Nate hums. “They came on gradually?”

“Yeah, little at a time.” Kincaid shifts. Squeezes Felix’s hand. “Not surprising, given how the body makes blood. What I am surprised about, is how Mu—his blood apparently squeezed mine out.”

“We don’t know that you’ve been turned—”

Mason cuts Adam off with, “I think we fucking do.”

Adam growls. “It is possible—”

“What? What’s possible Adam?” Kincaid snaps. “That I’m only half vampire? Maybe I just haven’t fully turned yet, it’s only been four months after all. Maybe some of my own blood is still rattlin’ through my veins yet.”

Kincaid watches him deflate, shoulders slumping. Adam presses a hand to his forehead and sighs, but remains quiet.

“You haven’t taken a breath in twenty minutes,” Mason helpfully supplies.

“Thank you so much, Mason,” Kincaid growls out as he presses the meat of his palms to his eyes. “Where do we go from here?”

“There are...meetings you’ll need to sit through.” Nate grimaces. “Forms to fill out, that kind of thing.”

“Depending on where your abilities settle,” Adam’s voice is rough as he speaks, “you’ll be given training in how to handle the changes you’ve undergone. I would not be surprised if you ended up with hypersenses similar to Mason, or strength similar to mine.”

“What does that mean for us working together?” There’s a flare of anxiety that bubbles in Kincaid’s chest. He doesn’t want to lose this, he realizes. A sour smell floods his nostrils and he recoils. “Fuckin’ hell, is that me?”

Mason chuckles. “That’s fear, cowboy.”

Nate whacks him on the back of the shoulder, giving him a disapproving stare for a moment. He turns to Kincaid and shrugs. “I imagine we’ll continue to work together. There’s no reason to split us up, not when we function so well as a group.”

“Whatever happens,” Felix turns to Kincaid, “we’ll deal with it. You’ve got us to help you.”

Kincaid leans down. Presses a kiss to Felix’s temple and whispers, “Yeah, yeah I do.”