#yes i did spend hours researching old phrases from the early 1900s

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Everything Stays

(A/N) Hey, I just remembered I said I’d post that vampire fic! Fun fact, I wrote this after finding this old ass vampire/demon book I had as a kid. I was obsessed with Van Helsing and demons and vampires... I was a weirdo. Anyway, if you guys like it, I’ll post the next part! If not, then enjoy and let’s pretend this never happened! (: 

Rating: M (Mature because, honestly I feel like this is kind of dark)

Warnings: My attempt at Horror. Keyword: Attempt. Some dark shit, mostly. Vampires, demons, death, war, Hell, the whole shebang. If you like feeling empty inside, then this is the fic for you!

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,041

Total Word Count: 14,880

Synopsis: You awaken after over a century of supernatural slumber thanks to a couple of Americans. (Well, an American and a Russian.) This can only mean one thing: a familiar, ancient evil is awakening in this vastly different and entirely new world.

| i | ii | iii | iv | coming soon |

“This place gives me the creeps,” Natasha mutters, stepping over a large chunk of uprooted stone floor. She isn’t really one to believe in the supernatural, but this place is absolutely crawling with ghosts, she just knows it.

“Scared of small spaces?” Steve asks teasingly. They’ve been climbing down twisting stairwells and narrow stone halls for some time, now; he can’t recall ever being in a castle before, but he definitely understands Natasha’s apprehension of the place. It is creepy.

Truthfully, it looks painfully like a stereotypical haunted castle. Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s smack in the middle of what was once Transylvania, and distantly there seems to be an unsteadily rising storm brewing. 

All Fury told them was a ‘strange energy emission’ from this exact location. It was of unknown origin, and so it was potentially dangerous. Naturally, he sent Natasha and Steve to explore the ruins of the old Castle - much to the redhead’s growing agitation.

It’s chilly down here. Damp, too. Like they’re walking through a cave rather than some ridiculously complex medieval maze. Neither will admit it, but the hairs on the backs of their necks and arms have been standing on end since they stepped foot inside of the imposing structure.

There were no guards, no surprise agents of any kind. Just a big, empty castle.

The hall comes to an abrupt end with a large, deep red door. The paint hasn’t chipped at all. In the center of it, there’s a handle in the mouth of an ornate silver dragon’s skull.

Natasha hesitates, aiming her flashlight at the thing for a long moment.

“There’s definitely a demonic cult in there, right?” Steve jokes, despite his own rising anxiety.

“Absolutely.” Natasha nods, voice cracking a little as she wraps her fingers around the handle and pulls the door open.

It reveals what looks to be… a catacomb? Only, there only seems to be one single stone pillar that could resemble a coffin if one squinted at it long enough, right in the middle of a circular slab of smooth stone. As soon as the door opens, a blue glowing line begins to emanate from the pillar to the stone slab beneath it. The intricate pattern it forms isn’t distinguishable from a distance, but the closer Natasha and Steve get to it, the more it resembles some kind of… star? Not quite a pentagram, but it almost holds the shape of one with smaller lines interweaving throughout, all leading to the pillar.

In front of the slab is a small podium of sorts, with a smooth, worn surface. The place looks like it had once been a Cathedral of some sort, but it has since fallen to decay, and there are no religious symbols anywhere. Natasha examines the podium while Steve attempts to cross the boundary of the glowing lines.

He hisses in pain, flinching back. Natasha looks at him in alarm. 

“It felt like it electrocuted me,” he explains, a little in awe.

Natasha frowns, looking at the podium again. There’s just the faintest indentation in the stone, as if it were smoothed away by a finger many times. She raises her hand to run her own finger over the indentation, and suddenly-

“Fuck,” something sharp stabs into her skin, right through the glove. She yanks her hand away, ripping off her glove to examine the trickle of blood running down her pointer finger. Steve stops mid-step to get to her side when he notices something chilling.

“Nat,” he whispers, “look.”

The lines, once a calm blue, are now red. Sharp, shocking scarlet. All at once, the iron candle holders on the stone walls are lit with strange, floating blue flames. Natasha’s entire body tenses, a cold shock running through to her very bones. Steve looks just as disturbed.

Not much surprises them in their line of work.

The pillar’s edges begin to glow, as well; slowly, as if it were drinking from the light around it. With another startle, they realize that it is, in fact, drinking in the light. The swirling patterns spiral inwards until there is nothing left but the pillar, and the unreadable inscriptions around the surface.

There’s a low hum, and then-

The front of it falls, crumbling into ash right before their eyes to reveal a person.

A woman. 

- - - -

The first thing you become aware of is the scent of it; blood, pumping from something living - someone living and then you become distinctly aware of something dreadful: you’ve been awoken. You could already be out of time.

Panicked, you step out of your tomb with a dizzying stumble. Your heightened senses pick up something else: a heartbeat. Two of them; rapid with fear. Your throat aches with thirst. You can feel your fangs protruding already, the taste of sweet relief already teasing your tongue.

No, you think anxiously, blinking your eyes open to find the source.

Two people, dressed in very strange uniforms, are staring at you with wide eyes. One, a woman with red hair, is holding some kind of gun aimed directly at you; the other, a man, has a shield and uniform that are distinctly American.

You can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips.

“Leave it to tourists to wake me up,” you grumble, revealing your fangs in a smirk.

“Sorry to barge in, then,” the man’s smile is tight, strained. His heartbeat is strange; stronger, in a way. His scent is off, too - not that you have much experience with your… unnatural senses. “We work for SHIELD. There were abnormal energy readings like we’ve never seen before coming from this castle.”

You straighten your stance, but keep a safe distance away from them. “‘Energy readings’? What, are you goops the feds or something?”

The woman seems to hold back a chuckle, and you have half a mind to be insulted before the man answers: “Something like that. I’m guessing you’ve been in there a while?”

“Last date I remember reading was… I suppose, February, nineteen-thirteen?” You try to think, but the memory is hazy. You’d faced the brunt of your transformation years sealed away, and so you have much more control over your thirst. A lot more than you would if you’d been asleep for, say, a decade or two. Still, though, the lack of a proper feeding makes you feel disoriented after your long slumber.

You almost don’t believe him when he tells you the year.

One hundred years. Over a hundred years. You’ve hunted vampires your age enough times, by now, to know just how dangerous you’ve truly become. God, what would your father say? No, he wouldn’t say anything; he would kill you. Simple as that. It was a rule of your lifestyle. Your family’s curse.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I have to ask,” the man clears his throat. “Who, and what, exactly are you?”

You flick your crimson gaze between the two of them again, settling on the woman for a long moment. You can still taste the blood on your tongue, mixed with the rejuvenating magic you’d used to seal yourself away; you smell it in the air, her blood. Hear the gentle increase of her heartbeat when your eyes meet hers. (Yes, you remember, your eyes are no longer their natural color. They’re the blood-chilling red of an ancient monster.)

“I am (Y/N) Van Helsing,” you give a playfully dramatic bow, “and I am a vampire.”

“Van Helsing?” The woman echoes, speaking for the first time, her tone edging on teasing. “So, you’re from pre-World War One, you’re related to a fictional vampire hunter, and you’re a vampire.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Considering you’re the bonehead who woke me up, I’ll ignore your snarky tone.” You realize, quite unsettled, that you don’t really need to breathe. The air that fills your lungs doesn’t feel… right. Not satisfactory, in a weird sort of way. Still, to talk, you need air in them, so you inhale carefully - trying hard to ignore the burning in your throat. “I’d love to give the both of you my life story, but I sealed myself away long enough to avoid the newborn rampage.” Their confusion is mildly frustrating. “I need blood. I’ll come with you, whatever, I need to feed or- or I don’t know what I might do.” You look at the redhead again, whose grip seems to tighten on the gun.

The pair look at each other, seemingly locked in silent conversation. You force yourself to wait patiently while also becoming more and more aware of how different your body feels, now. How much stronger. Even now, standing still as stone in that unnatural way, you can feel the strength in you. The power. Beyond the newer feeling, you still have that familiar comforting sensation of your family’s magic. The curse that your father despised, the curse that gave you the power to do exactly what you did to get here. 

And now you’ve been awoken. Which means He is, too. 

You really, really need to gain your strength.

The man walks away, holding his finger to his ear in an odd way and speaking softly, and the woman lowers her gun slowly.

“I’m Natasha Romanoff, that’s Steve Rogers. As he said, we work for SHIELD. We’re a secret organization dedicated to protecting America - well, Earth, really - from potential threats that the citizens of the world don’t need to know about.” The woman explains in that smooth, sultry tone of hers. Maybe it’s the fact that your hearing is so hyper-sensitive now, but her voice really is just pleasant. “There’s a lot you’ve missed out on.”

“You ding-bats had no idea vampires were real. Or that my father was real.” You retort, following her from a safe distance as she and Steve lead the way out of the cavern. The taste of her blood lingers in the back of your mouth, your throat feeling as though fire is spreading through it.

Natasha doesn’t pause in her stride, but she throws a smirk over her shoulder at you. “At this point, I’m ready to believe just about anything.”

As you follow behind them, you take in the years of decay that have torn apart the castle. It’s strange, seeing it so desolate when your last memories of it are drenched in blood and violence. There’s no evidence of the war fought here, no bones but that of the castle itself as nature has begun to reclaim the long-forgotten corpse. 

The ground floor, it seems, has taken the brunt of the damage. The once beautiful wooden door has long-since caved in, the rotten wood’s scent hitting your nose unpleasantly. Wildlife has already begun to take over; plants spilling in from the towering windows, ivy clinging to the stone walls. The burgundy rug that once led to the throne room has faded with time, and you can’t help remembering the last time you’d stood on it.

“Do you truly think killing me is going to stop this? All of this? Your family’s blood is tainted; as long as a Helsing returns, so will I, and I can promise you my Army will not be far behind.”

It’s dark out, thankfully, and you have no trouble seeing through the near-blackness of night. Not anymore.

“There are blood transfusion bags on the quinjet,” Steve explains, slowing down significantly until he’s walking beside you. You have to hold your breath for a moment when his action causes a violent gust of Natasha’s blood-scent to hit your nose. “Will that be enough?”

You swallow thickly, assuming ‘transfusion bags’ means just bags of blood. “Let’s hope it is. I’ve never heard of vampires eating anything besides fresh human blood.” Realistically, you know you could probably feed off of Natasha without killing her - or turning her. It’s just a tad bit impolite to suck on someone’s neck after first meeting them. Besides, you aren’t entirely sure if you’ll be able to control yourself since you’ve spent the better part of the past century in glorified supernatural hibernation.

“I don’t know about fresh, but we keep blood bags onboard in case of emergencies.”

Then, you see it. A strange sort of vehicle of some kind - an aircraft, perhaps? You’re reminded sharply of how much time has truly passed. All the faces you once knew, names you couldn’t be bothered with - you wish you could remember them all, now that they’re all gone. 

Once you’re onboard, your suspicions are confirmed: it is an aircraft. Unlike any you’d ever seen before. It’s bright, too, and it takes you a long moment to adjust while Steve fiddles around with something you can’t see fitted to the wall.

Natasha moves to the very front of the vehicle, and there’s a strange whirring noise as the door comes to a close. The whole machine comes to life - the noise of it is unbelievably overwhelming at first, to the point where you don’t even notice Steve approaching with a bag of red liquid.

“You get used to it,” he assures, as if he’s got experience in waking up to a different world. He holds out his hand, the bag of liquid sloshing with the action.

Blood. 

You take the bag with a shaking hand, nerves erupting in your belly. This is it, then. Your first time drinking actual blood. You should probably get over the uneasiness now, because you’re basically stuck like this forever. 

Steve helps you open it, and the moment the scent hits your nose you can’t resist bringing the bag to your lips.

Fuck. 

The coppery taste is easy to ignore, once you feel the rush of being fed. That power you felt lingering in your bones is magnified immeasurably; you almost feel as though your muscles were tingling, with the amount of energy that surges through them. 

Once the bag is drained, you let out a satisfied sigh. Steve, who had been trying hard to hide his disgust, takes the empty bag to throw it out and motions to a seat.

“It’s easier if you sit for this part,” he says, and you’ve just managed to sit down before there’s a mild lurch and-

You’re flying.

You can’t help staring out of the windows with fascination as the quinjet goes higher and higher, leaving the castle behind as a simple speck among the lush forest. The clouds look so different from up here, and the stars-!

“You can sit in the co-pilot seat if you want,” Natasha offers, looking over her shoulder at you.

“The only time I went on an aircraft was when another American organization wanted to question me,” you explain softly, embarrassed. “It was a lot more terrifying than this.”

“What’s it like not being the oldest anymore, Rogers?” Natasha teases, not moving her gaze from the front even as you move to sit in the seat beside her. With the ache in your throat gone, it’s much easier to be this close to her. 

“Weird,” Steve admits with a chuckle. “It’s a long way to the States. Now seems like a good time to talk about what - who - you are.”

You nod absentmindedly, looking down at the twinkling cities far below. Yes, it’s been a long, long while. You’ve missed out on so much, you just know it.

“My father,” you begin quietly, “was not a great man, I’ll admit. Our family has always been cursed, in more ways than one.” You tear your gaze away from the horizon to fix it on Natasha and Steve - who has moved to stand directly behind both you and Natasha. The almost bitterness to his scent makes it all the more easier to continue without thinking about the pulsing heart beside you. “The Helsing family - for as long as we could trace it back, and for reasons even my father never knew - has always been tasked with protecting humanity from vampires. My older brother, Arthur, was supposed to become the next Hunter. My father trained him well, but I was always the more adventurous of the two of us. Always asking him to teach me when father was asleep,” you smile a little at the memories.

“But,” you continue with a sigh, turning back to the windows and watching the swirls of clouds give way to swaths of stars. “Father expected too much of him, I think. Though I suppose nobody could have thought…” You trail off, just the faintest memory of a terrified scream ringing in your ears for a moment. 

“Arthur was bitten by a very powerful vampire. The venom was transferred so quickly, father barely had the time to stake him before he-” you clear your throat, willing the memories away. “Well, after that, neither of my parents were the same. Mother was a ghost, empty and vacant; Father was chasing a case near London for some time. With Arthur gone, I inherited the family’s magical abilities, though I didn’t understand it at the time. When Father returned from London, he suddenly wanted to train me. All the attention he never gave me before, the attention I so envied my brother for, was mine - but it wasn’t the same. There was no love - or, if there was, it was in silent companionship. As I got older, the more I felt like a business partner rather than a daughter.” You can’t help the breathless chuckle, the emptiness seeming so foolish, now. 

“We didn’t realize that the monster who took my brother from us was far more dangerous than any regular vampire we’d faced before. Of course father went off on his own to hunt it down,” you shake your head with a sigh, looking down at your lap. “I tailed him, of course. I always did. He wanted to do things alone, but I-” your voice catches, and you’re surprised that you can feel so much as this undead thing. “I was persistent, as always. The thing we were hunting was the original vampire. The eldest of its kind, gifted immortality by a demonic entity-”

“Okay, wait,” Natasha interrupts, and you shoot her a curious glance. “I can accept vampires. Clearly you’re a vampire. But demons?”

“You haven’t seen either thanks to me, but I was getting to that,” you huff, crossing your arms. Natasha’s plump lips stretch into a smirk, but she remains quiet so you continue: “He goes by many names, but I knew him as Harkon. The reason my father went after him alone was that Harkon planned on raising an army of the undead. Believed it to be his destiny to consume the world in darkness.” You let out a shaky breath, still annoyingly aware of how you don’t need to breathe. 

“Father couldn’t stop him. He always feared becoming one of the monsters he hunted, and I suppose… well, I suppose he did himself in before that could happen. I never found his body, but I knew enough of Harkon’s plan to go after him myself. Took down almost every coven of vampires in my way, too. Harkon was the one to tell me the truth about my family. Why we are what we are.” You glance at Natasha and Steve, ensuring the pair are still listening. 

“Harkon is not a normal vampire,” you repeat, moreso to yourself than them. “He doesn’t die - at least, not by standard means. The moment he was created, the Helsings were cursed. Chosen, depending on who you asked. By whom or what, I don’t know, but it gifted the eldest child with a capable amount of magic. Enough to detect a bloodsucker or a demon, and enough to heal faster than a normal human.” You pause. “I hunted him down to that castle. He had surrounded himself with many demons of higher class than I’d ever fought before - the Underworld’s Grand Generals. I stained the grounds with their blood and ash, so close to ending the curse that took everything from me.” You can still faintly recall the ache in your bones and muscles, the exhaustion of your magic. There had to be scores of them - hundreds, all thirsty for the vile rage that settled so heavily in your heart. And you were happy to satiate them, your hands and weapons stained black with the blood of the demons. 

“I found him in the throne room. I suppose he was waiting for me,” you frown to yourself. “He told me… that as long as a Helsing survives, he would always return. Always try to fulfill his destiny.” You shake your head, closing your eyes for a moment as the memory comes flooding back. “Given my line of work, I guess I should’ve believed in some ancient prophecy bunk like that, but all I could think about was how much he took from me. My brother, my mother, my father… I was never too good at controlling my anger. It always got me into trouble one way or another. That was when he- he-” you’re surprised by the swell of emotion in your chest. 

You clutch the faded edges of your waistcoat with white knuckles. “When he, ah, bit me. I used what magic I could to stake him and burn him before the venom started taking over.” You can still feel the white-hot pain of it. The agony of hellfire burning into your veins. “When a vampire is first turned, they’re incredibly strong and out of control. I knew that if I didn’t either kill myself or seal myself away, then I would become a monster, too.” You open your eyes slowly, willing away the rising tears. “I’m not my father, though. I was too cowardly to end it all, just like that. I knew that if I died, no Helsing would be around to prevent another uprising of vampires. I had no guarantee that Harkon would return with or without my family line. So, I sealed myself away with magic. I hadn’t planned on anyone - especially Americans - finding me. Waking me up.” There’s just a bit of an accusatory tone, but you try to hide it with a sour smile.

“What happened to that undead army?” Steve asks quietly.

“Without Harkon, they had no real power. I slaid many of their Generals along with their King, so I imagine the ones that I didn’t kill myself are either very good at hiding or they would have followed Harkon to the Underworld. If neither of you have seen or heard of vampires and demons, I’m assuming my spell to lock myself away did the trick.” You send a sly smirk towards Natasha, who just rolls her eyes in response.

“That still doesn’t explain the energy reading spikes. If your magic was there for over a century, we would have noticed it.” The redhead challenges.

You shrug, puzzled. “I don’t really know what ‘energy readings’ are, Miss Romanoff, but if there was a major change, then that-” you stop yourself, dreading the thought. “No, that would be impossible.”

“A visit from an old friend?” Steve’s tone turns serious.

You nod slowly, carefully. “I wasn’t sure if my… current state would change the rules of the game.”

“What else would be able to… bring him back?” 

You think for a moment. All of the cases you’d been through, studied - the handwritten guides left by your ancestors… “I don’t suppose cults are still relevant at this time?”

“They’re probably different from what you’re thinking,” Natasha responds with a chuckle. 

“Well, Harkon became a vampire by sacrificing his family for Ninkalla. She wasn’t exactly popular in my day, but if her influence has somehow spread, then…” You clench your jaw. “He could already be back.”

“What’s a Nin-Ninkalla?” Steve’s hand clutches the back of your seat a little tighter when the airship bounces a little.

“She goes by many names, as well,” you wave your hand lightly. “All demons do, but that is her true name.”

“What’s the significance of a name?” Natasha’s green eyes glance at you curiously, not an ounce of sarcasm in her tone.

“Names mean everything in the Divine World,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, unable to hold her gaze for long. Instead, you look at the constellations, thinking of all the times your brother pointed them out to you. Named them, even the ones he didn’t know the proper names of. “If you know a demon’s name, you hold its power.”

“And this demon is… particularly bad, I’m guessing?” Steve murmurs.

“She’s just the Queen of the Damned,” you shrug, and Natasha lets out an actual snort at that.

Both you and Steve look to her in confusion.

“It’s- it’s a book. And a movie,” she explains, wiping the corner of her eye with amusement. “About vampires, actually.”

“And yet, you haven’t believed a word of what I’ve said to you.” You huff, and she rolls her eyes again.

“No, I believe you. At first I thought you were just giving me bedroom eyes, but after watching you slurp that blood-bag like a juice pouch, I’m definitely a believer.”

“‘Bedroom eyes’?” You echo. You think about it for just a moment longer before your own eyes roll into the back of your head. “Miss Romanoff, I am nothing if not a gentlewoman.”

“Right. Vigilante Vampire Hunter just screams gentlewoman,” Natasha retorts and you let out a genuine laugh.

“Father wasn’t always around,” you hum, just the slightest bit of sadness settling in your slow-beating chest. Yes, that’s another very odd sensation. Your heart hasn’t stopped, but it’s incredibly slow. Unnaturally slow. You can’t dwell on the newness of your body, though. Can’t let the thoughts get to you now, not when there’s so much to do.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you get to… wherever it is they plan on taking you. Going in alone is not an option - not yet, at least - while you have a century to catch up with. A century of technology, of medicine. An entirely different world.

And, of course, you have to save it. Again.

- - - -

Unsurprisingly, Natasha and Steve’s ‘superior’, a man who insists he be called ‘Fury’, is not keen on meeting you. With the both of them to vouch for you, however, it isn’t long before he agrees to not imprison you - or worse. When you tell him of the danger the world is in, to your surprise, he seems to believe you.

This man has probably seen a lot of things, you determine.

As you catch him - and a few others whose names you don’t know yet - up on who and what you are, he explains - briefly - what you’d missed in your century asleep. Two entire world wars, for one. And creatures from beyond the stars. Because, of course. Now you understand why Fury accepted the whole idea of monsters so quickly - he’s seen plenty himself.

“If you sensed magic,” you suggest after some time, “then you must be able to use your… readings to find Harkon. If I’m awake, perhaps his own demonic aura will be detectable.”

“And how do we know that you won’t, I don’t know, suck our blood?” A man asks, his arms crossed. You think his name starts with a T… his chest glows strangely, and the scent of his blood is almost… nauseating. A different sort of metallic scent that just isn’t right. Far more repulsive than Steve’s.

“Because,” you look at him sharply, “before I became this I was the one destined to bring vampires to extinction. I’m not throwing away my family name anymore than I already have by allowing myself to turn.” You pause. “Besides, if I still have some of my family’s magic, then that means I have the strength to resist the worst of my… cravings.”

“And you said blood transfusion bags worked?” Fury asks, and you nod.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if a few leeches survived off of these into the new age,” you comment thoughtfully. “I’m still not certain how Harkon may have awoken before me, but I have a strong feeling that-”

“Forgive me for being skeptical,” the glowing-chest man interrupts again, and you fight the urge to sigh. “I mean, aliens were easy enough to believe. I’m a man of science, after all. But this? Vampires? Demons? Van Helsing?” He scoffs. “I mean, seriously-”

“Do you need a demonstration?” You can’t resist the sarcastic bite to your tone. “Because while your blood smells repulsive, I’d be happy to show you how vampires normally feed. Don’t worry, I won’t even have to suck you dry.”

“That really isn’t easing my apprehension-”

“If Harkon is the first, and he was created by a demon,” Fury happily cuts the man off, “then why don’t we go after the demon? Wouldn’t that fix the entire situation?”

“Funny thing about demons,” you hum, “and Harkon. They don’t ‘die’. You can kill them, banish them from the physical world for a while, sure, but they will always return after some time. They don’t have souls, never have had a soul. They are entirely made of evil, of rage - of darkness. As long as there is evil in the world, they will always come back. You simply send them to the Underworld, and they usually return stronger than before.”

“So Harkon might be stronger than he was before?”

You shuffle nervously in your seat. It’s comfortable, but sitting still for so long has you feeling jittery. Anxious. “Truthfully, I don’t know. He was only mentioned in two of my ancestor’s journals, and only in passing. I have no record of the first to encounter him, and I have no idea if he had been asleep up until my own encounters with him. Vampires grow stronger with age, but when I destroyed him I didn’t feel the release of his aura.” In fact, as much as you hate to admit it, you’d somewhat felt it go into you. Even now, you feel the stirring darkness in the back of your mind. Waiting.

“You said you and your father never got involved with authorities before,” another man, whose name you distinctly remember being Bruce, folds his hands together over and over on top of the table. “Why are you doing it now?”

“Because,” you look at each face slowly, carefully. “I have been asleep for over a century. If I rush blindly into this, I risk exposing vampires to the rest of the world as well as my line of work. From what Miss Romanoff has told me, your organization is keen on keeping certain aspects of life secret from the ordinary eye.” You fix your gaze on Fury again. “If you’ll have me, I would immensely appreciate both your cooperation and assistance in locating Harkon.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if in disbelief by your offer. “I was just about to suggest the same thing. What do you suggest we do to find him?”

“If you picked up on my magic, then you should be able to pick up on strong demonic auras. Not to boast, but the Helsing magic is just about as powerful as that of your average Demonic General.”

“Alright. In the meantime, you’ll be staying with the other Avengers here at the compound. We can get you some… more modern clothes.” The way he says it, makes you sort of embarrassed to be still wearing your waistcoat and trousers. You really do look like you’ve stepped right out of another world, another time. “Agent Romanoff, would you mind showing (Y/N) around?”

“Not a problem,” Natasha responds smoothly, speaking for the first time since you’d arrived at the joint.

“If you have any questions, Rogers is familiar with your… situation.” Fury explains with a curt nod. “I’ll keep all of you updated as soon as I can.”

- - - -

You’ve been staring at your reflection for some time, now. Centuries ago, mirrors made of silver made it impossible for vampires to gaze upon their own reflections. You aren’t sure if they all feel the same sort of haunting disconnection from it that you do.

You don’t look like yourself.

You look carved from stone; features you’d once seen as imperfect just seem unnaturally beautiful, now. Not to mention the blood-red eyes. Vampires could seduce anyone with their otherworldly looks - it was part of the hunting process. It’s incredibly strange to see yourself as- as- well, this. 

And like that, all of the emotions you’d been holding back come flooding to the surface.

You’ve done the one thing a Helsing can never, ever do - turn into one of the undead monsters you hunt. It was a family rule that, if one were to turn, the others must stake them before their soul is entirely damned.

But now, with all the pain you feel, you can’t help but wonder: is your soul truly lost like this? You still feel like yourself, only a little more. You’re incredibly strong, now, and powerful - that much is true. However, despite the newfound strength, you still feel so damn helpless. You’ve become a monster. Willingly. Rather than die like a Helsing should.

Would your death have truly stopped Harkon from returning, though?

There’s a knock, making you jump. 

“I brought you some clothes. Can I come in?” Natasha’s voice comes from the other side of the door, and you wrap the towel back around yourself before telling her to enter. 

Your eyes are glued to your reflection again, an immeasurable sadness lingering in your crimson gaze. 

“Were you crying?” Natasha asks, setting the bundle of clothes down on the counter beside the sink. 

You shake your head, wiping your cheeks self-consciously. “No. Just- thinking.”

Natasha watches you carefully, a thoughtful expression on her pretty face. “This is… probably a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

You scoff, glancing at her through the mirror. “I should be the one saying that.”

“I meant becoming a vampire.”

“Ah.”

“You did say it was your family’s destiny to destroy them. Were you… changed, when you put yourself to sleep?”

“I was changing,” you murmur. “I was dying. That’s why the spell was so powerful. Didn’t think I’d still have my magic when I…” You shake your head to clear it. “I don’t know how to feel. I’m surprised I feel anything at all.” You pause hesitantly. “I suppose I didn’t believe monsters were capable of feeling.”

“You are far from a monster,” Natasha’s hard tone surprises you, and you meet her unyielding green eyes in the mirror. “From what you’ve told us, you’re nothing like other vampires.”

“I am very much like them,” you sigh, turning to look at her properly, unable to keep your gaze from lingering on her slender pale neck. Her pulse is quickening, though you aren’t sure if it’s from fear. “I still thirst for blood. I can’t go out during the day. I can hear your heartbeat. I’m not- I’m not human, anymore.” You hate the way your voice wavers, your careful composure cracking too much for comfort

“But if you were a monster, you’d have killed me the second you woke up. Isn’t that right?” Her tone softens considerably. 

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you chuckle. “Because you do smell delicious.” Her heart races, and the slightest bit of pink dusts her cheeks. You swallow thickly, your own heart skipping a beat (not that it makes much difference). “I’d better get dressed and look over the possible locations of some books I could use.”

“Right.” Natasha nods, stepping away from you and towards the door. “I’ll show you your room once you’re done.”

This is going to take some time to adjust to, but time is the one thing you don’t have. (Yet, ironically, don’t you have all of it, now? Just at the tips of your fingers?) You never liked the idea of eternity, but here you are: ready to stare it down.

One more look at the mirror as the door clicks shut. No, you definitely aren’t human, anymore.

- - - - thank u, next - - - -

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