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Chapter Text

Jon nodded at the man and pushed the sheet of paper over. “Just a formality, but you have to sign this before I can take your statement."

Jonathan Harker looked down at the paper saying ‘Contract of Employment at the Blackwood-James-Sims-Stoker Institute, Independent Contractor, Offsite.’ “Wait, why?”

Jon sighed. "Because I'm a monster - a friendly one, don’t worry - of sorts and if you don't sign this I'll appear in your dreams every night which I've heard is extremely creepy. Also I don't want to see you in my dreams every night - I finally escaped all that when my friends and I came back in time.”

“Um, what?"

Martin cut in, gently. “Jon, let's not confuse the poor man more than he already is. Remember - time travel isn't exactly common."

Jon sighed. "Fair enough. Basically… you're a solicitor, right?”

Jonathan was stunned. "How…how do you know -"

Jon waved a hand dismissively. “Nevermind that. Just…basically consider this a waiver."

Jonathan was still not convinced. "Why?”

Jon sighed again. "Well, it's either give your statement here and we'll try to help with your problem or,” his tone took on a very sarcastic note, "accept your current diagnosis of ‘brain fever.’”

Jonathan didn't understand the man's tone - that was a perfectly valid diagnosis. Regardless he reckoned he might as well and signed the paper. His instincts as a solicitor told him it was a bad idea to sign something he didn’t understand but his instincts as a human told him it was the safest option.

“Great, thank you.” Jon took the paper from him and handed it to Martin who carried it over to a filing cabinet.

Martin looked at the name and let out an amused chuckle. “Your name is Jonathan?”

Jon face-palmed. “Oh. Great. Another one.”

Martin giggled and filed it alphabetically in the ‘H’ folder.

“You see a lot of Jonathans?”

“Yep.” Jon shook his head. “So many of us - it’s ridiculous.”

“Us?”

“Yes… my name is Jonathan Sims.” He paused. “Okay, let’s take your statement then.” He looked at Jonathan expectantly.

Jonathan was a bit confused. “Do you need a stenographer or…?” He glanced over at Martin who was conspicuously without a typewriter or any kind of writing implements.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I have an, eh, photographic memory for statements.” Martin let out a snort of laughter and Jon shot him a wry look. “Well, Martin, I do.”

“Yes, yes you do.” Martin gave him an adoring look.

Sasha poked her head in. “Are you about done with Martin in here? Because we could use him to help with sorting if so.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “By ‘sorting’ I assume you mean ‘trying out all the illicit drugs that were allowed back in the late eighteen hundreds over the counter?’”

Sasha gave a mock affronted look. “Jonathan Sims! Who do you take us for? Of course not!... We’re only shopping and stocking the medicine cabinet for future needs.”

“Ah, I see.” Jon nodded, trying to hide the growing smirk on his face. “I missed you, Sasha.”

She smiled gently at him. “I missed you too, Jon.”

Jonathan meanwhile was confused. “Illicit drugs? ‘Were’ allowed back in the late eighteen hundreds? What?”

Sasha turned and seemed to notice the man sitting across from Jon. “Ah… does he not…”

Jon sighed and shrugged. “I told him we’re from the future but I don’t think he believed me.”

Jonathan began to doubt the intelligence of coming here. “Um… I can see that… maybe I should just… go…” he got up from his chair and started for the door.

Jon spoke up hurriedly. “I can give you the good recipes you want - I seem to recall you’re particularly fond of a couple dishes from your recent travels?”

“...What?” Jonathan whirled around in confusion, looking into Jon’s glowing green eyes and somewhat smugly triumphant expression.

“Martin, could you go get the second typewriter out? After this gentleman’s statement I’m going to type up a few recipes for him.”

Jonathan sat back down - he really wanted those recipes. However he was a solicitor. “I’ll give the statement after the recipes.”

Jon nodded though he was really looking forward to his dinner. It only made sense for the man to want proof first.

Chapter Text

After his statement, Jonathan went home to be with Mina and try to recover from the trauma. Meanwhile Jon, Martin, Sasha, and Tim sat around a library table and began to look into their new case. 

“Well, boss. From what he said it sounds like they’re calling these creatures vampires.”

Jon nodded. “Exactly, but not like the vampires from our time. So they’re going to need different methods of killing.” 

Tim chuckled faintly. “I don’t know - I feel burning anything to ash probably would kill it.” 

Jon’s eyes flicked to his right hand and he winced for a second before turning back to the others. “Yes… right.” Martin noticed and wrapped a reassuring arm around him, nuzzling into his shoulder. 

Sasha spoke up. “And it sounds like they’re all coming to near us as well - the whole ‘new address’ thing sounds awfully ominous.” 

There was a chorus of agreement. Martin gave a nervous gulp. “So… that building is, what, only a few hours ride down the road? I don’t exactly feel safe right now.” 

Tim gave him a reassuring smile. “Oh, Martin. Don’t worry - no vampire will dare attack anyone in our spooky Institute. After all, we’ve got an all-powerful Beholding creature on our side.” Jon raised an eyebrow in slight offense and Martin kissed his forehead and scooped him up into his lap. 

“My precious little all-powerful Beholding creature.” He nuzzled into Jon’s shoulder and Jon melted at the touch, his somewhat miffed expression turning to one of relaxed peace. 

Tim and Sasha looked at the two with amusement. Tim finally broke the silence. “Hey you two, are you going to get a room or…?” 

Jon turned to him, his eyes flashing with amusement. “Or what, Tim? You just said I’m an all-powerful Beholding creature. Maybe you and Sasha should find a new room. You know, for safety reasons.” Martin guffawed and kissed the top of his head. Jon made a happy squeaky sound.

…

John Seward and Van Helsing watched in abject horror as a pale figure made its way through the graveyard while slurping greedily from a child's neck. Quincey and Arthur squinted, confused, trying to see in the dark. Helsing whispered, “Do you see her?" 

Arthur squinted all the harder. "Who, don't tell me… Lucy?" 

“Yes." Helsing’s voice was solemn and bitter. 

“She's alive! Oh blessed day!" Arthur clasped his hands to his heart in joyous rapture. “But what is she doing?" 

Helsing replied in monotone. “Feeding." 

Arthur shook his head in dismay. “I hear my love is alive only to hear immediately thereafter that she’s making foolish decisions that could end that very life. Lucy is going to choke if she keeps eating while walking like that." 

The others looked at him with some befuddlement. To be fair, he had lost his fiance as well as his father this past couple weeks and he hadn't been sleeping but still. Helsing spoke up first. "Arthur… you do see that she's draining the blood of an innocent human child, right?" 

“Wait, what?" John opened the lantern a bit wider so the light fully cast itself upon Lucy and her dismal meal. Arthur cried out in horror. “Lucy, no!" 

Lucy looked up from her dinner and saw the others, quickly dropping her meal carelessly to the ground as if it were the empty bones of a pot roast. The child whimpered pitifully and all humans present felt pangs of sympathy. “Arthur.” She put her hands out in askance for a hug. “Come, my beloved fiance, join me.” 

Arthur started forward and Helsing got between the two, brandishing a cross at Lucy. “BACK!” 

Lucy hissed and headed back for her tomb - everyone was being so rude and it was time for her to be getting to bed anyway.

…

The next afternoon Helsing, Arthur, John and Quincey stood in Lucy’s tomb, Arthur holding the stake and mallet, pressing the stake against her chest. Helsing and John began reciting a prayer and Arthur readied himself. 

“WAIT!” The four looked up in shock to see an unknown man running across the graveyard, waving his arms frantically. 

“This isn’t good.” Helsing’s brow furrowed. How did anybody know they were here? He thought they’d been covert but apparently not. And now they were all going to get arrested for grave desecration. 

Arthur looked over at Helsing nervously. “Now what do we do?” He considered hurriedly finishing Lucy off to save her soul but the man had already finished making his way into the tomb and jumped up on top of the coffin, shoving Arthur backwards. Admittedly he wouldn’t have been able to if Arthur had not been so shocked - the man was rather small and not very strong - but as it was Arthur fell backwards against John and the two toppled the floor. 

Jon gasped. “Stop! Do - Not - Kill - Her.” He panted and looked at the four others in the room, making sure they weren’t going to try anything and, when he was satisfied, he climbed down from the coffin with some effort. “Sorry to, um, sit on your loved one.” He brushed off his coat awkwardly. “But I had to be sure you wouldn’t kill her.” 

Helsing raised an eyebrow. “...Kill her?” Does this man know what she is?

Jon sighed. “Yes, I know she’s undead, or a vampire as you will. And you were about to stake her.” 

John spoke from his position sitting flat on his backside. “Then you must know that she has to die because it’s not her anymore - it’s but a monster that has taken over her body.” 

Jon winced. “That’s… that’s unfair. She’s an Avatar of the End, sure, but that doesn’t mean she’s not still a person.” 

Helsing stepped forward. “I’m sorry friend but you have no idea what you’re talking about - she’s not human any longer, she is undead and must be made truly dead so that she may be at peace.” 

Jon crossed his arms. “I think we should ask her what she wants.” 

Quincey spoke up. “Am I missing something - that’s not Lucy anymore, is it?” 

Helsing shook his head. “No, it is not -”

Jon interrupted. “Maybe not entirely but it’s still partially her and does anybody stay the same person forever?” 

John raised an eyebrow. “...What?” 

Jon sighed. “Look, sometimes people die and come back as Avatars, I’ll give you it’s inconvenient but -”

Arthur spoke with tears in his eyes. “How could you confuse things so? I can’t take this constant back and forth!” He looked between Jon and Helsing. “Which one of you is right - is this Lucy or not?” 

Jon made an awkward, non-committal sound. “Well… it’s kind of… complicated?” 

Helsing shook his head. “She literally drinks the blood of innocents. This is no longer Lucy. Arthur - you saw her last night, do you not remember?” 

Arthur was busy staring at Jon as if he were glowing with some holy light. “Is there any chance, any chance at all, that dear sweet Lucy is still in there?” 

Jon reached a hand down and gently rested it on Lucy’s. “As I said, it’s complicated. You should all talk to her.”

Quincey spoke up. “Not to state the obvious but she’s currently dead.” 

Jon nodded, trying to hurry along the conversation. “Yes, yes, I know. That’s why we do it when she wakes up later tonight.” 

“What?” John was confused. 

Jon sighed. “Gather here at dusk with some supper and blankets to sit on and wait for her to emerge. I’ll bring my colleagues as well - they’re all skilled in dealing with this kind of situation. Then we invite her to dinner or, in her case I suppose, breakfast.” 

Chapter Text

It was a rather awkward affair, having a group dinner like this where everyone only knew half of those in attendance and the whole point of which was to talk to an undead version of half the guests’ friend. Fortunately the Institute staff weren’t too bothered by this - it was fairly commonplace for them. A typical Thursday, truly. 

“Hi, pleased to meet you. I’m Tim Stoker.” 

Quincey put out his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Quincey Morris.” 

“I’m Sasha James…”

The others made their introductions and soon they were sitting on a couple large blankets spread on the ground, most of them mingling but Jon sitting off by himself as the entire situation was just a bit (read: way too) overstimulating for him. Martin brought him over a cup of tea and draped his coat around him with a kiss to the top of his head. “Anything yet, my dear Archivist?” 

“Not yet, Martin.” Jon leaned into Martin and nestled himself in his arms. “But soon, I think.” 

A few minutes later Jon’s eyes flashed. “She’s coming.” He untangled himself from Martin’s limbs and stood up. “She’s coming, everyone get ready.” 

Arthur had already been staring at the tomb and now he stood, his heart in his throat in nervous anticipation of once again seeing his beloved. Lucy materialized outside the tomb and began walking towards the town. Arthur started forward. “Wait, Lucy!” 

“Arthur, NO!” Helsing grabbed his arm and pulled him back, panicked desperation in his eyes. “You cannot go to her - she will take you.” 

Arthur felt his eyes well with tears. “But… how…”

“I’ll talk to her.” Jon stepped forward. 

Quincey raised an eyebrow. “Is that not dangerous?” 

Jon shrugged. “Dangerous? Sure. But she’s not the first Avatar I’ve talked to and survived.” 

Martin rolled his eyes. “And he’s got the scars to prove it.” He turned to Jon. “You just be careful, you hear? I’m not in the mood to play ‘comfort and bandage the injured Jon’ tonight.”

Jon gave him a faint smirk and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be careful, Martin. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

The others all looked at each other. Even in the late eighteen hundreds everyone knew those were famous last words. Martin closed his eyes for a few seconds in frustration and walked over to Helsing. “Please tell me you’ve got medical equipment should this all go terribly wrong?” 

Helsing nodded. “I do.” 

“Good.” 

Sasha smirked at Martin. “At least he’s not going for a tape recorder this time.” 

Martin rolled his eyes. “I know, right?” 

Jon groaned. “I heard that, you two!” 

Tim chuckled. “Yah, and it’s fair. You have a propensity for getting yourself hurt and you know it.” 

Jon rolled his eyes. Blah blah blah whatever. “Hi Lucy, may I speak with you please, Avatar to Avatar?” 

Lucy turned around and saw a small man close to her, nicely separated from the rest of his group. She licked her lips. “Hello.” 

Jon felt a jolt of anxiety at the obviously hungry expression on her face but didn’t want to be rude - after all, hadn’t he had that same hungry expression on his own face before? Yes, when he’d terrorized the populace and fed upon the innocent who very much had reason to be afraid. No, stop thinking like that, Sims! “H-Hi. I’m Jonathan Sims but you can call me Jon.”

Lucy sized him up. He didn’t look very threatening and didn’t appear to have any weapons. And he didn’t smell of garlic, only delicious blood. Mmm. Ah, the way his hair gently draped over his neck, a soft silky wrapping for a scrumptious meal. Jon only had time to briefly consider that he should maybe start backing away slowly when she flung herself at him, bowling him to the ground, and sank her fangs into his neck. 

“JON!” Martin hurried forward, followed by the others.

Helsing brandished a cross. “BACK! BACK!” 

Lucy hurriedly dragged Jon with her and started crawling backwards, slurping as fast as she could. She really ought to get a wagon of sorts for transporting her prey - it would make this much easier. Jon desperately clawed at the ground, trying to get away, and whimpered pitifully. Lucy rolled her eyes - she probably should have enthralled him first. That would have also helped. Hopefully these things would become a habit eventually. She briefly took her fangs out of his neck and fixed her eyes on his. “Stay still.” 

Jon let out a soft sigh and went limp and she sank her fangs into his neck again, smiling in ecstasy at the delicious flow of warm blood that she was now actually able to enjoy without her food making things unnecessarily difficult. Then she snarled angrily as Helsing pushed a cross into her face. “BACK! BACK!” 

“HISSSSSS! HISSSSSSS! HISSSSSSS!” Lucy looked as threatening as she could, holding Jon’s limp form to her chest. “MINE!” 

“BACK!” 

“HISSSSSS!” 

Martin stalked forward and punched her in the face, much to the others’ surprise. “GET YOUR FANGS AWAY FROM MY FING BOYFRIEND!” 

“HISSSSSS!” Lucy didn’t know what to make of this incredibly rude human but she reckoned she’d had enough to eat for now anyway. She unceremoniously dropped Jon to the ground and stood up, fleeing for her tomb. 

Martin dove for Jon’s limp form on the ground. “Jon, Jon, JON?!?” 

Helsing gently shoved him to the side and put his fingers to Jon’s throat to check for a pulse. “He’s alive, it’s just a bit faint. We should get him back home for treatment.” 

Jon groaned softly as Martin scooped him up into his arms. Martin shushed him soothingly, “Shhh, it’s okay, we’ve got you, everything’s going to be alright now.”

Chapter Text

Jon whimpered softly as Martin gently deposited him in the bed. Martin turned to John and Helsing. “Now what?” 

Helsing turned to his bag and started taking out equipment. “He needs a blood transfusion.” 

Martin raised an eyebrow. “So… we’re taking him to the hospital then?” 

John looked confused. “No? Okay everyone, who wants to contribute some blood.” 

Martin felt a jolt of panic. “Wait, what? Are you all just O negative or something?” 

Helsing looked confused. “What’s that?” 

“You know, your blood type? That if you mess up and give the wrong type you will definitely kill someone?”

John looked at Helsing and shrugged. “Never heard of it. Have you?” 

“No.” He turned to Martin. “I don’t think it’s that big a deal - we all contributed to Lucy.” 

Quincey nodded. “Yes, the four of us.” He gestured to John, Arthur, Helsing, and himself. “We all did and she was fine.” 

Martin tried to keep his incredulity in check. “Um… ookay.” He decided not to mention the fact that she was currently a very un-fine undead vampire. “Well, we’re going to need to wake Jon to get some info so you don’t kill him. Just trust me on this.” 

Helsing looked unsure but Tim put a hand on his shoulder. “Just go with him on this - we can all explain later.” 

“Um, I guess?” Helsing looked down at Jon. “Give him some brandy, see if that will revive him.” 

Tim snorted with amusement. “Jon doesn’t really drink much but okay.” He looked around. “Where is said brandy?” 

John walked to the other room and returned with a bottle. “Here.” 

“Thank you.” Martin gently propped Jon up on the pillows and tilted the bottle towards his mouth. “Come on, Jon. Drink up.” Jon remained unconscious. 

Helsing reached out a hand. “Give it here.” Martin handed him the bottle and he proceeded to put some on Jon’s wrists and a bit in his mouth. After a minute Jon came to, spluttering and making absolutely disgusted noises. 

“What… what is that awful taste -” 

Sasha handed him a glass of water. “Here, Jon.” 

“Sasha? Thank you.” Jon shakily reached out and gulped it gratefully. 

When he was finished, Sasha took away the cup and Martin gently grabbed his hand. “Jon, we’re going to need you to reach out to the Beholding, okay?” 

Jon looked at him dazedly. “Hmm?” 

“We need a list of everyone’s blood types.” 

“...Why?” 

“Don’t worry about it, just give it please.” 

Jon was rather out of it and reckoned it wasn’t worth questioning. “Um, okay I guess.” Tim handed him a piece of paper with everyone’s names on it and Jon spent the next couple minutes filling in everyone’s blood types. 

Arthur: A -
John: B -
Van Helsing: A -
Quincey: AB+
Jon: O-
Martin: O-
Sasha: A-
Tim: O+

“...Here you go, I guess?” Jon handed it back to Tim and leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes. “But next time, please wait until I’m feeling better to ask me to be your apocalyptic google, ‘kay?” His voice trailed off in a slur at the end. 

Quincey raised an eyebrow. “Apocalyptic what? Is he suffering from brain fever?” 

Sasha gave a snort of laughter. “No, it’s… it’s a long story. Where we’re from there’s this… thing… called ‘Google.’” 

“Ah.” Quincey nodded, apparently satisfied. 

Tim turned to Martin. “Well, Martin, looks like you’re up.” 

“Hmm?” He turned from where he’d been gently running his fingers through Jon’s hair to look at the paper. “Ah, so it is.” He looked towards Helsing. “Well, let’s do this thing I guess.” Helsing started preparing the equipment and Martin gave a nervous chuckle. “Heh, medical care was really, ah, interesting back in the eighteen hundreds, huh? I keep forgetting.” 

Four sets of confused eyes turned to him. John spoke up. “What?” 

Tim gave a nervous laugh. “Ah, nothing. Nothing at all. Just ignore him - he’s a bit anxious.” 

“Ah.” Helsing nodded. “Fair enough.” He turned to John. “Do you mind dosing the patient?”

John nodded and administered the narcotic to Jon who twitched and let out a faint moan, his eyes opening and going wide with panic. “M-Martin, what’s… what’s going on?!” 

John gently patted his arm. “It’s just some medicine to help you sleep.” 

Jon tried to sit up and was only pushed back into the pillows, gently but firmly. “Just relax.” 

Jon whimpered and Martin gave him a sympathetic look. “Aw, shhh, it’s okay.” He gently ran a hand through his hair until he finally relaxed and fell into a deep sleep. 

“Is he out?” Helsing turned to John. 

John gently tapped Jon’s arm to see if he got a response - he did not. “He seems to be.” 

“Good.” Helsing started the procedure and Tim held Martin’s hand for comfort. 

“T-Thanks, Tim.” 

“Of course, like I wouldn’t be there for everyone’s favorite Keats fan!” He smiled reassuringly then let out a snort of amusement. “Who has to keep dealing with a rather irksome boyfriend with a propensity for trouble.” 

“I know, right?” Martin laughed and rolled his eyes. “Can a man not catch a break?” 

Sasha laughed. “Not if your boyfriend is Jonathan Sims. Martin, you really should have thought that through before falling for him.” 

Martin gave an amused sigh. “I know, you’re right. He’s just so cute, you know?” 

“So you say.” Tim smirked. “I still don’t see it.” 

“Hey! If I didn’t have to stay so still I would smack you!” 

“I know - that’s why I say what I want now while you’re temporarily unable to!” 

“I’ll get him for you, Martin.” Sasha grinned at Martin as she playfully smacked Tim. 

Tim let out a surprised laugh. “Hey!”

Martin chuckled. “Thank you, Sasha. You’re a hero.” 

“And don’t I know it!” 

…

Jon woke up later to find Martin lying next to him in bed, flipping through a book. “Jon, you’re awake!” 

“Yes.” Jon yawned. “I… I feel strange.” 

Martin nodded sagely. “It’s probably the drugs.” 

Jon groaned. “Ughhh right.” 

Martin chuckled. “It’ll be okay. Probably.” He winced. “Though honestly, you’re better off for them. Just saying, blood transfusions before they’ve really been invented yet? Not very pleasant if you’re awake for them.” 

“Ah…” Jon looked over with concerned guilt. “I’m so sorry Martin, I should have been more careful -”

Martin rolled his eyes affectionately. “Then you wouldn’t be the Jon I fell in love with. It’s okay.” He kissed Jon’s forehead and ruffled his hair. “But seriously, you owe me your life in more ways than one - they didn’t even know about blood types.” 

“Good L!” 

“Yep! You would have been one dead little Archivist.” 

“Ah. Well, thank you Martin.” 

“Of course.” He smirked. “You are my reason, after all.” 

Jon gave a gasp of mock surprise. “And finally, he says it!” 

“Hey!” 

Jon shrugged innocently. “Look, I’ve only been waiting for you to say it for the past eleven months or so.” 

Martin pulled him into a hug. “Well, you are. Apologies that it took so long to say it.” 

“Apology accepted.” Jon kissed him and Martin let out a happy squeak.