Evolution by BJ Jones

Stage Four – Homo Sapiens

***


Dean was absolutely never going to get used to flying.

He had been lucky since Egypt, in that he had only been forced to fly a few times, over short distances.

He preferred his car. Hell, he'd go by train if he was that desperate.

There was just something wrong with getting into a flying metal death tube and trying to pretend it was all perfectly normal.

The only good thing about flying was Sam's distraction techniques.

And Sam had gotten good at distracting Dean for hours, especially since he was still making it up to his Mate for getting held hostage.

Twice.

They stepped off the private jet onto a small, immaculate runway.

And the Pacific Ocean air temperature hit them like a blow to the head.

Dean had never met Tony Stark.

Heard all about him though.

Who hadn't?

He'd worked with some of the weapons Stark sent for them while they were fighting in Egypt, and had admired them a lot. He'd even gotten a few for his personal armory.

It was the hidden engineering geek inside of him that kept trying hard not to squee at the thought of talking with Tony Stark.

The Tony Stark.

Charlie was the only person in the world who knew about his hidden talents; though Dean had a feeling Charlie probably told Don, who may have mentioned it to Bauer. He'd been the recipient of a few odd looks from both of them on those occasions when he and Charlie would start talking. And if either of those guys knew about his geeking out now and then, he had a feeling Sammy would sooner or later. He wasn't sure why he didn't want his brother to know though. Maybe it was all those years spent hiding the geek behind the good little soldier his dad trained him to be?

Sam stepped up behind him, resting his hand on Dean's lower back.

Dean wasn't sure if it was meant as a reminder for Sam that his brother was actually there, or to remind Dean that Sam was there. Either way, he didn't mind it; somehow it gave him comfort and a sense of stability, telling him that he wasn't trapped in a dark room at the mercy of Balthazar and his bitches.

Not that he would admit that kind of weakness.

Ever.

He was Dean Winchester.

And Winchesters did not have chick flick moments.

"Mr. Winchester?" Pepper Potts was her normal, smartly attired and efficiently brisk self, despite the peculiarity of having visitors to Tracy Island; a location not at all accustomed to having people just drop on by. But she was adaptable.

She worked for Tony Stark.

She had to be.

Approaching the newly arrived Hunters from Sylum Clan, she offered them a pleasantly warm smile and extended her hand. "I hope you had a good journey out here?"

"I'm not a big flyer." Dean gave her his brightest smile – the one that could charm the pants off anything that moved. "But you make it worth the effort." He took her hand, and kissed it.

Pepper rolled her eyes but maintained her smile. "Mr. Winchester…"

"Dean. There are too many of us Winchesters to choose from, though if you're looking for the handsome one, you got him." He stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a low and distractingly alluring growl.

"Mr. Winchester, you should know that I have spent a great many years working with Mr. Stark, and he prides himself on being the cute and charming one. It hasn't worked on me yet." She waved her hand at what appeared to be a very well disguised entrance into the Island.

Into.

Not around.

Into.

The brothers blinked.

"Besides which, I have been around Vampires for a while now, and I know how protective Mates can be." She glanced significantly at Sam.

Dean winked at him, noting the silent frown. "Dude! You fucked me into the mattress on that plane. Your Claim has been well and truly Staked."

Happy bit back a grin as he approached, escorting Jeff Tracy out to meet their guests.

The man behind the massive installation set upon a seemingly impenetrable island in the Pacific Ocean, was about as rugged as the Volcano he had built into, and definitely not the kind of person you messed with if you ever wanted to come back. His reputation was as much legend as it was fact, and he had the distinct capacity to inspire awe in people before they even had chance to stumble over their introductions.

"You should really meet my son Scott. He also has a tendency toward similar Claiming any time Tony makes a typically overt public appearance."

It had taken him a while to grasp the intricacies of his eldest son's relationship with Anthony Edward Stark, but his ultimate goal was to ensure his sons were content with their lives, and if such a thing made Scott happy, then he too was happy. Nothing more could possibly be asked for.

"Colonel Tracy." Dean appraised the older gentleman, suitably awed. "I've read about his work with Stark Industries and his skills as a test pilot. He seems much like his old man."

Jeff grinned broadly at the youngster's frank audacity in addressing him, and held out his hand, receiving a suitably firm shake for his trouble. "Jeff Tracy."

"Dean. And this is my brother, Sam." He nudged his Mate. "Sam! Say hello to one of the greatest figures in aviation and space history."

Jeff paused.

He hadn't known the two Hunters coming out to his Island were both brothers and Mates. It threw him for a moment, and left him wondering just how something like that worked in terms of intimate relations, and what the social consequences might for siblings being Mated. He frowned, more to himself than his guests, though he note Dean's shoulders stiffen at his expression and he realized this was a potentially dangerous individual whom it would be wise to treat with respectful consideration.

Hunters were something of a new commodity for him, but he was rather glad to know they were on the right side of the current equation.

"Welcome to Tracy Island." He held Dean's gaze for a touch longer that was strictly polite, but he made his point, seeing much more to the Vampire before him, than simply a cheeky smile.

He then shook Sam's hand and welcomed him too.

"Gentlemen? If you'd be so good as to follow me?" Pepper motioned toward the entrance doors that would lead them through into the laboratories and main house.

It was hidden between the trunks of a small stand of gently wafting palm trees, and would certainly have been overlooked when the eye was more naturally drawn to admiration of the highly equipped hangar buildings, and refueling station, for the small fleet of private aircraft, chocked nearby.

From their final approach before landing, Sam hadn't been able to get a decent gauge on just how large the island was.

All anyone could ever really see was the long dead Volcano, its cone rising hundreds of feet above sea level. It was hard to tell whether the terraces further down the slopes were natural or manmade, but they were covered with sufficient greenery to suggest a surprising degree of fertility in such a remote place. A scooped out plateau on the other side of the mountain, to the right of the landing strip, held what seemed to be a house with a swimming pool, and some other assorted outbuildings nestled quite literally into the side of the island, laced together by a network of pathways and flights of steps.

It looked beautiful.

Remote.

Peaceful.

Scenic.

But he knew full well there was likely to be whole lot more of it, once they got inside the Volcano itself.

Which was a little bit of a daunting prospect.

They walked first of all, into an open garage area, where a variety of vehicles, from several other small planes, boats on launching platforms, and even a few high-end saloon and sports cars, sat patiently awaiting their respective owners. No one thought to ask why there should be such cars on an island with no roads. Some were covered in dust sheets, but others gleamed beneath the strip lights overhead.

Dean spotted the rolling, hangar style door that allowed vehicular access to the garage bay, and wondered whereabouts it came out on the island.

As they made their way over to one of the archways, which clearly led further into the mountain, Sam had to physically grab him before he could reach out and touch every shiny object arrayed so very close at hand.

"Dude!" Dean gave his Mate a suitably aghast glare. "I'm not five!"

"More like four." Sam gave him a pointed look. "Don't touch anything!"

As their host, Jeff explained some of what they were seeing, yet both Hunters had a feeling they were hardly on the deluxe tour. It was one thing to have metallurgy laboratories, mechanical engineering facilities, and banks of apparently computerized, heavy manufacturing machinery, but they had no idea what such stuff might be needed for, except perhaps for building further into the Volcano, or designing large scale, possibly experimental industrial equipment of some kind.

Dean had no notion what exactly Jeff Tracy had gotten into once he retired, but he had the impression it was a hell of a lot more than just putting his feet up and taking life easy. One of his sons, John, was CEO of Tracy International GeoComms, and had at least three satellites in orbit, with plans for several more that were launching soon, in a closely intended sequence, for GPS triangulation, cell usage, and probably a lot more besides. NASA and JPL had connections to other Tracy interests, and he wondered if they were using the island as a private research base for designing the kind of hi-tech gear that those who specialized industrial espionage, might otherwise want their sticky hands on.

They continued to walk through a variety of corridors, with paths leading off in different directions. Mostly they were gray steel walkways, through certain areas with shielded walls and high ceiling, and others where the bare rock showed through as a reminder of where they truly were.

Sam guessed there were probably caves and caverns all over the Volcano, and found his mind wandering to what kind of wildlife could be living in such a place. He had a feeling the sea life was pretty vast, and the swimming was probably awesome.

He had no idea where they were in relation to the runway or the rest of the island, having lost his sense of direction some time ago, and he knew that if he had to find his way back to the plane in a hurry, he would probably get totally lost. He paused as they turned down yet another corridor and through a few more doors, figuring they were in lava tubes that had been retrofitted for human habitation.

One room had lower lighting.

Another had cases of spare parts with ubiquitous coded information on the side that meant absolutely nothing to him, but everything to their owners.

Here and there he spotted the familiar Stark Industries logo.

He had no doubt that Mr. Stark and Colonel Tracy trusted them as Hunters for Nicolaus and Sylum Clan, but that fact alone would be unlikely stop them from protecting themselves and those around them. It was a concept Sam could get behind, so he followed through the maze down which he was led, trying to at least remember some of the landmarks.

The lengths he would go to in protecting Dean were also pretty extreme, and he knew his brother was the same way. A good case in point for that, were the recent hostage situations they'd been embroiled in.

Sam had always known Dean was a bad ass. He also knew that despite their Dad's military training, which had been drummed into them from the night they lost everything, Dean had surpassed him in his abilities as a Hunter. He'd proven so when he'd walked into that Bank with nothing but a gun and a smile. The heavily armed robbers had no idea what hit them, and afterwards lay bleeding on the nicely tiled floor, wondering just what demon had walked in to come exterminate them.

Then two days later Dean had scared the crap out of some poor teenaged, wannabe gangbanger. Sam really would not have been surprised to hear the kid had found religion after that hour with Dean.

Sam though, wasn't entirely without some bad ass skills of his own. After all, they still didn't talk about the wrath he'd brought down on Jessica Moore once he discovered she was working with Balthazar, and was in fact one of the bitches who'd mercilessly tortured his brother.

So yeah, the two of them were incredibly protective of each other, and completely understood the need for some extreme security procedures, a decent amount of permanently available weaponry, and a few extra guards around the place.

Happy Hogan was not at Tracy Island for the scenery after all.

Sam was jolted back into the situation at hand, once they entered what seemed to be the center of the facilities.

They were in fact, standing on the second floor of what was a very large and surprisingly comprehensive workshop, filled with rows of benches that were themselves littered with tools, diagnostic gear, computer displays, and variety of other things Sam didn't recognize and couldn't begin to guess at.

As Pepper continued to point out a few things, it didn't take long for him to realize he was losing Dean, Mister I-Am-Totally-Hiding-My-Inner-Geek-So-Very-Badly, to all the cool and very geeky toys.

Dean was trying not to show his delight at everything, since Sam 'didn't know' about his inner geek.

Supposedly.

But he had been firmly cut down to size by both Don and Jack Bauer, when it came to Dean's education level, and he still felt guilty for all those years spent at Stanford, where he would try and hide his grease monkey of a big brother to his friends and his peers, making himself out to be the smart one of the family.

After all he was the one who'd got out of all that mess.

Wasn’t that smart enough?

Really, there were days when he wished he could go back in time and smack the shit out of his angsty teenage self.

Sam stopped and watched, as Dean ran his fingers over what looked like hanging strips of fine, bronze colored metal. They were attached to a long, thick pole that was constructed from some slightly different type of metallic substance. It went all the way down to the first floor, about fifteen feet below them, and seemed to disappear into the ground, tapering off as it went.

The strips of metal were light and almost feathery, emitting soft, attractive chimes that echoed around them.

"We think it's a lawn ornament." Jeff teased them, running his own hands over the strips, and smiling.

But the truth of it was they had no idea what it could be, or where it might have come from. It had simply always been there, ever since they started building, looking like it had somehow gotten stuck in all that prehistoric lava as it shot upward from beneath the sea, forming the Volcano over centuries of eruption. Though such a thing was highly improbable, and plainly ridiculous.

"What? It's gotta be thirty feet long? Thirty-five? Gigantor's back yard missing something?" Dean gazed at it a while longer, then examined it a little more closely. "I've never seen metal quite like this…"

"No one has," Jeff assured him. "We've yet to determine its composite."

Dean laid his palm on the pole, thinking it might be more of a stalk or a spine of some kind. But he shuddered suddenly, and quickly pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers and grimacing.

"Dean?" Sam stepped toward him.

"Its fine, Sammy. Just got a slight shock from it, that's all. Weird static. Must've been the air and the movement of the bits here…"

He walked away from the massive 'lawn art', then paused at one of the smartboards on the wall, reading the equations that were shimmering up on the flat screen.

Sam leaned back against the railing and waited.

He knew his brother couldn't pass by an equation without reading it, or drawing what he saw. How Dean still thought he didn't know about the geek thing, he had no idea. Sometimes he really hated John for making Dean think he couldn't be a geek, and he hated himself for reminding Dean he wasn't a geek. But then he wanted to smack Dean for not…

He stopped himself from thinking that way and ran a hand over his face. It wasn't the right time to get into old regrets. They weren't the same boys John had once raised.

Balthazar had changed them.

Sam would never regret having been Turned, but once he finally got his hands on Balthazar, he'd make the sonofabitch pay for what he'd done to Dean.

And there was that whole protective thing again that he kept on marveling at so often.

Instead of reflecting backward, Sam focused on watching Dean in the present.

He enjoyed watching him contemplate a good puzzle, but got more of a thrill watching others react as the bad ass Hunter turned into Geekboy Extraordinaire.

Jeff and Pepper both paused, as Dean suddenly moved to the blank side of the unfinished equation, and started to draw with the screen tools.

Neither of them had been expecting such a move.

Sam just smiled and leaned a bit closer to Happy. "He thinks he's hiding the geek."

Happy snorted. "It'll be interesting to see him with Mr. Stark."

"Oh, God no!" Sam recoiled from him in horror. "It's bad enough I have to set up play dates with Charlie, and they end up locked in the garage for hours. Charlie has this whole 'absent minded shy geek thing' going for him. But Dean and Stark together? They would end up in Vegas or something, getting arrested!"

Happy chuckled to himself, then frowned as he realized Sam was probably right. "That would be bad."

"Very bad," Sam agreed.

"But I can't say it won't ever happen." Happy winked at him mischievously.

Jeff however, was staring at the drawing. He shook his head in astonishment, and looked back at the Vampire Hunter, wanting to know a lot more about who Dean Winchester really was, and where he had been hiding. Someone with an education of his apparent caliber would surely have been snatched up by MIT a long time back, then mostly likely recruited by Stark Industries. Which then made him wonder why he was Hunting for a living, and not working in the Long Beach Facility with Stark's Arc Reactor or something.

Jeff added a few calculations to the equation, balancing the drawing.

Dean grinned at him sheepishly and stepped back, blushing slightly as he realized what he'd just done. "Sorry…"

"Don't be! I've been working on this for a while. This gives me a few ideas." Jeff stepped back, admiring their combined creation. "Jarvis? Make sure to save this."

"I already have, sir."

Dean and Sam both startled at the disembodied voice. "What the hell was that?" they demanded simultaneously.

"Jarvis, say hello to Sam and Dean Winchester." Pepper spoke up from where she stood next to Happy. She too was smiling, as though about to reveal a bigger mystery than the gigantic metal construct they'd passed earlier on.

"Hello Sam and Dean Winchester," a very distinguished, British accent replied.

"Jarvis runs our computer systems, the house, and all of our lives," Jeff explained, with a certain fondness.

"Cool!" Dean smiled brightly. "Interactive computer systems! Wave of the future!"

"If you would follow me?" Pepper opened a door in the wall that finally lead them back outside, and onto a walkway curling upward to a broad, glass railed balcony. "You can explain why Mr. Meridius sent us two of his Hunters. Your visit is most unusual."

Sam and Dean went with her most obediently, Jeff and then Happy following behind.

The moment they set foot on the balcony, Dean gave a low whistle.

The view was spectacular.

"I can totally see why you live out here."

"It's beautiful." Sam agreed wholeheartedly, then added, "And you can see anyone coming from miles away."

"We have better view from further up the mountain. Our systems are equipped with real time satellite feed," Jeff said flatly. "And sonar arrays in the water. Do we have a security risk here?"

Dean turned and looked him in the eye. "I'm not sure if you've been following what's going on in the States right now."

"I've seen Stillson's speeches." Jeff was not a political animal by nature, and despised the arguments that never benefitted any but those doing the fighting. "The man is an influential idiot, who speaks in riddles and gets a thrill from scaring people with science fiction. He seems intent on creating an image of himself as the great liberator of the huddled masses, too terrified to do anything for themselves."

"He's working with Victor Frankenstein." Dean told him the truth, knowing there was no point in trying to hide it behind some kind of excuse or prefabrication.

In turn, Jeff blinked at him a few times, astonished by such a revelation but willing to accept it. He had been willing to accept a great deal since discovering Vampires were more than some historical myth, but figured there was a great deal more to know than that alone.

"While investigating Stillson and the work that Frankenstein has been planning, we came across a coded message about another situation." Sam added to the conversation, wanting their purpose to be quite clear.

"Stane has discovered where Tracy Island is located. He is on his way here now. His objective is simple. He wants Tony Stark." Dean gave them no room to doubt it.

"And you were sent to protect him?" Pepper asked, knowing Tony was important to the Clan but not that Nicolaus would send Hunters specifically for him.

"Sylum's Leadership would prefer it if we got Tony off the island, but looking around I'm not seeing that happening." Dean had already begun surveying their surroundings, figuring out areas of best defense, at least in what he had seen of the place so far. But they would not be protecting just Tony and his Mate; there were other people on the island, including the staff at the house, maintenance personnel, and the rest of the Tracy family currently present.

It was then that he realized there was one person he hadn't seen since their arrival. "Speaking of, where is Mr. Stark?"

The Pepper looked at Happy, then turned to Jeff. All three of them simply smiled back at the two Hunters.

"Out," Pepper answered simply.


~ Somewhere over the Middle East ~


Tony dipped down, plummeting fast, then at one hundred feet, he rotated full circle before shooting upwards in a vertical climb of startling velocity.

Stopping suddenly, he turned once more heading back down.

It was a rush.

The ultimate adrenaline spike.

He was flying.

He bit back the sort of squeal that would probably have been altogether too girlie.

He was after all, Tony Stark.

So he whooped instead, like a teenage boy with too many hormones.

"What the hell are you doing?" Scott's demanding voice came over the communication system.

"I'm flying!" Tony yelled, even as he visually checked over what the HUD laid out before him was responding with.

Everything was working in good order, feeding him a continual stream of data that Jarvis was analyzing even as he pushed the design parameters of his creation, to discover its limits.

It had been a while since he had last taken the Suit out for a test drive, having done some modifications to the joint works and removal configuration. So far, he had only been around Tracy Island a few dozen times, and that was getting pretty boring.

He'd even crashed into the garage once.

Virgil still wasn't speaking to him after he'd totaled his car when he fell on it.

"Input is green across the board. Sensors fully functional. Repulsors operating evenly." He pushed the Suit a bit more, ordering Jarvis to increase speed, seeing how fast he could really take it.

Breaking the sound barrier was a piece of cake.

And even if he crashed, it wasn't likely to kill him.

The Ten Rings had already seen to that.

"You're heading into a no fly zone. You're going to get a missile up your ass if you're not careful." Scott growled in his ear by way of warning.

"Is that what you're calling it now?" He grinned to himself when he heard his Mate cursing at him. He really did enjoy riling Scott up. The subsequent Claiming inevitably outweighed the lectures about his behavior. "I'm under their radar."

"Okay then, while you're busy expanding the size of your ego, can you scan the surrounding area? Let's see if we can get some real-time information worth using on this place." Scott knew that arguing was pointless.

When Tony Stark had a plan, it was always useless contradicting him unless you could at least get Jarvis on your side.

And maybe Pepper.

"So far there's nothing suspicious. This country is just as grim as I remember it. Jarvis?"

"Sensors indicate…for a…high level…"

The Suit shuddered all around him, and the HUD he was reading from promptly blinked out, before he dropped a few hundred feet with a gut tightening lurch.

Jarvis was too garbled to make any sense.

"Tony?" Scott's voice in his ear sounded clear enough. "Readouts say your stabilizer is offline."

"No shit! Check uplink status with Jarvis."

Tony dropped another hundred feet or so, plummeting like a stone.

Concentrating on trying to get his systems back online, he was so focused on the flitting data on his screen, he didn't see the approaching projectile. And with Jarvis offline momentarily, his technological support didn't spot it either.

The missile exploded prematurely, actually missing him, but the subsequent shockwave that it produced, knocked the last of the repulsors offline, and all forward momentum was lost.

"Jarvis!" He tried hard to keep the panic out of his voice, but he needed a little help, and the very last thing he wanted was for Scott to have to send in the Air Force.

Or worse.

There was always Clay and his merry band of Losers.

Though he wouldn't have minded talking to Jensen, especially after the last time he'd tried hacking into the JARVIS mainframe.

"Working on it, sir. There appears to have been a malfunction."

Tony opened his mouth to snark back at his friend about the most inappropriate moments for stating the obvious, but Scott interrupted him.

"That missile came from the ground. Trajectory shows you over Afghanistan!" Tony heard the Colonel's voice kick into a higher level of calmly professional competency. "I'm going to assume you have a full on death wish. Jarvis? Get his systems online, and send me his coordinates. Reset the parameters of the power ratio."

"Obviously, sir. Mr. Stark, your thrusters are now at forty percent. Repulsor response time climbing."

Tony fired them up, just in time to slow his descent.

So instead of crashing into the ground at full speed, it was only at half speed.

His landing sent up quite the dust cloud.

He didn't move for a few moments. He couldn't, even if he'd wanted too.

The Suit absorbed most of the impact, lessoning the real force of it, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

He might have been a Vampire, but broken bones were still broken bones, and he had a few.

The skin tight pressure suit he wore beneath the armor that encased him, was reactive to changes in altitude, just like those worn by fighter pilots, only better. And it could support those broken bones, slightly more comfortably than the outer shell alone.

Systems slowly rebooted. He could hear Scott and Jarvis arguing over the communications gear in his helmet, but his mind couldn't quite get around what they were saying…

"Sir! There are hostiles in your area. There are four vehicles registering on sensors, scattered in the immediate area, and eight men, armed with AK-47s"

"Get the FUCK up Tony!!" Scott wasn't above yelling at him like he was some raw recruit in basic training.

He shook his head, his own senses coming online one at time, just like the Suit.

And sure enough, as he turned his head, there were hostiles heading his way.

Carefully, he pulled himself out of the crater he had made, and stood up, looking around to see whereabouts he might have landed.

He realized quickly, that he was in fact, smack in the middle of a small village.

It was almost in total ruin, but might actually have been pretty nice at some point in the last thousand or so years.

But as it currently looked, there was little save a mass of destroyed and crumbling buildings, streets and alleys torn up by explosives, cars blown to pieces, and all the detritus of a once thriving market.

Nothing lived in the immediate vicinity, except men with guns, and those still screaming as they were rounded up to be moved out.

Against their will for the most part.

Not that there were very many of them.

Mostly anyone with half a brain cell had fled the place years ago.

It only took a second, to find what had shot him down.

A tank.

It slowly turned the corner into the street, the barrel of its gun adjusting to aim at him.

The Ten Rings.

He recognized a few of the bastards who were trying to separate the children from their parents.

They all stopped, and turned to look at him, clearly astonished at what they were witnessing.

They pulled their hostages toward them, using them as human shields.

The silver Suit had to be alien to them all, having quite literally fallen out of the sky.

It was an unknown.

And it was dangerous.

They raised guns and pointed them at Tony.

And he couldn't help but feel the irony of the moment.

If they only knew just who it was had come to fall in their midst once more, they might have been a hell of a lot more amused.

"Jarvis? Get thrusters back online. I need power. And I need it now."

The magnetic shielding on the Suit, designed to actually protect the armor from overheating in flight, would easily protect him from bullets, such projectiles doing nothing more than leave a few pock marks in the metal, but a direct hit from a tank shell was another matter again.

The rest of the Suit's systems were slowly coming up, including his own weapons and targeting arrays.

"Working on it, sir."

"What the hell is going on there, Tony?" Scott demanded, having felt his Mate's pain as he crashed into the ground. "Talk to me."

"Not the right moment for a chat, honey. Little bit busy here… Jarvis? Calculate the threat. Target each gunman, weapon, hostage and potential hostage."

His HUD showed him everything he needed.

"Can the threat be eliminated with sufficient speed to avoid loss of innocent life?"

"Yes, sir," Jarvis responded. "Although heat signatures and movement from within, suggest the tank behind you is preparing to fire."

"Then get me out of here once the hostages are free, if I can't wipe that one out of the picture too."

"You very much have a death wish," Scott muttered. "I'm having you checked for insanity when you get back here."

"Of course I'm insane," Stark retorted. "I Mated with you didn't I? Jarvis, open fire."

Tony felt the short range gun arrays that were mounted on his shoulder braces, pop open in response to his command.

Everyone flinched, staring at him in horror and fascination.

Eight bullets took out each of the gunmen, in less time than it might normally take for the average human being to blink. One shot per target. One hundred percent accuracy.

Armor piercing, high grade rounds.

Top quality manufacture.

His own.

Tony found himself smiling grimly, more from the efficiency of his weapons than from any kind of smug satisfaction at exacting a little revenge against The Ten Rings.

Or at least that was what he'd tell Scott later.

But it bought sufficient respite for the startled hostages to flee back into their destroyed surroundings; mothers and fathers snatching sons and daughters from the brink of annihilation, many of them managing to nod gratefully in his direction, though they knew not what exactly they were nodding at.

He only had fifteen rounds left.

And of course there was that single missile launcher embedded in his right forearm.

There was nothing quite like a live-fire test to ensure everything was fully operational.

Tony turned to the tank as it lined up the shot, realizing he was as unafraid as he had been in that cave not so long ago.

Raising his arm, he took a most unnecessary breath, ensured good aim, and let fly.

Nothing appeared to happen.

Those innocent, and youthful eyes still bold enough to be watching him from behind the rubble walls of their former homes, pondered what this meant as he casually turned and started to walk away.

He knew the rocket hadn't failed.

"Colonel? Make a note. There's too much of a time delay on the…" Even as he stalked out of the village, the tank exploded in a brilliant spray of hot metal, bright orange flame, and sickly black smoke. "Yeah, never mind."

"Are you planning this kind of thing often?" Scott demanded, a low growl in his voice that was certainly sufficient to warn his Mate that he was in some serious trouble when he got home.

"I haven't been building it for fun," Tony answered.

He had walked away from The Ten Rings a Vampire. But his death would not be without purpose, and neither would Yinsen's.

He wasn't going to let Obediah Stane destroy his Father's legacy, take down Stark Industries, or use any more of its products to destroy the world.

"Then we're going to need a second suit."

That got him to pause in mid-step. "What?"

"I'm not letting you go out there by yourself!" Scott stated angrily. "You are not a soldier. And besides, at least one of us in this relationship is a Test Pilot, and it's not you!"

"I gave The Ten Rings these weapons!" Tony growled back. "What they do with them is on my conscience!"

"No! Stane did that! He's the one who betrayed you, your Father, and everything the two of you ever did!" Scott yelled. "You had nothing to do with it."

"But my name is on them! My name! Do you get that yet?"

It was an old argument, one that Scott was determined to keeping fighting until Tony saw the truth of it, beyond his own anger and disgust.

But it was probably going to take some time.

"I will not let you do this by yourself, Tony. You are my Mate, and that means you're stuck with me. Better or worse."

"So when exactly did we get married? Because I'm pretty sure I would've remembered that," Tony quipped, trying to ease the tension rippling through his body.

"Pepper arranged it a while back. It was that black tie affair. We had a reception at the Disney Concert Hall." Scott's voice held some humor. "You were drunk."

"I'm never that drunk," Tony deadpanned.

"I swear you're half pirate."

"Have you ever seen me swig cheap rum, straight from the bottle?"

He stopped, when a figure ran out in front of him, gun raised.

He would certainly have reactivated his own weaponry, had there been much of a need, but the 9mm being aimed at him was hardly much of a deterrent.

The facial recognition program that Jarvis used for security, flared suddenly into life, and Tony blinked when he saw the name of the person who stood before him.

"What the fuck?"

Tony could feel Scott's shock too. Hell, he could feel Jarvis emanating shock!

Anthony Edward Stark did not, as a general rule, use crude language.

But sometimes.

Just sometimes, it was called for.

"Tony, what the hell is going on!?" Scott's voice screamed in his ear yet again.

"Patience, Tonto. Patience." He figured he was really going to have to look at either lowering or turning off communications.

It was getting on his nerves having people keep yelling at him.

"You're getting me out of here," the newcomer demanded, gun not wavering. "Right the hell now!"

"Henry Thorne?" A part of Tony knew he probably should have been more shocked than he really was, but then he had already met Terry Thorne and the whole Meridii family line thing, and 'stubborn' was only one of so many other words he would have freely used to describe the lot of them.

"We can do introductions later," Henry snarled, as he shifted to the right and began firing at more bad guys, who randomly appeared behind them, running headlong through the village, in a manner that suggested they were more than a little bit pissed. "These fuckers just don't quit!" He jerked back in front of Tony, smiling tightly. "You're flying us out of here, mate."

He totally sounded like his Dad at that point.

"Do I look like an aircraft to you?" Tony asked, figuring he probably did. "Jarvis? Make sure all systems are running at full capacity. I'm going to be carrying extra baggage."

"Don't worry, 'cause I can fly anything!" Henry grinned, then flung his empty weapon aside, before climbing onto Tony's back. "Get us the fuck out of here, whoever the hell you are."

"All systems online and ready, sir. May I suggest you and Mr. Thorne leave the area? There are several trucks and a second tank heading this way," Jarvis informed him, primly.

"Please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times," Tony snarked, positioning himself so the repulsors that were fitted into the palms of his gauntlets, and in the soles of his boots were in optimal position for flight.

Looking upward, he boosted the thrust capacity at full throttle, and took off away from the destroyed village, straight into the air, climbing like a jet fighter.

He leveled out at one hundred and twenty feet, but it was not until they were just about hitting thirty miles, from what actually appeared on his GPS readout as Gulmira, that the thrusters started to sputter again, then die altogether.

Tony growled, as they began falling. "Jarvis, divert all unnecessary power to the thrusters!"

"On it, sir. Rerouting now. Might I suggest adjustments are required for the power to weight ratios when recalculating for passengers, in building the Mark 3?"

Tony snarled at him but was able to get their altitude a little straighter. Somehow, miraculously, he also managed not to drop the kid to an untimely death. He really didn't want to be the one having to explain to Terry, that 'hey dude, I found your kid, but then dropped him, sorry, my bad'.

"Jarvis? Track our course and request help on the ground."

"Already on it! I've been tracking you since you fell out of the sky the first time. You made it look like you had no idea where you were going, but I damn well know you better than that. Why Gulmira? What were you looking for? Did you know Terry's son would be there? What aren't you telling me?"

Tony could sense that his Mate wasn't happy, and he didn't need the Bond to do it.

There were many things he wasn't telling anyone.

Things they never needed to know.

When Scott got nothing but silence for his trouble, he got a little threatening. "When you get home…"

"Going to spank me?" Tony asked, with a light tease to his voice.

"No! I'll let Pepper do that."

He could hear the grin in Scott's tone, so he knew at least that he wasn't going to get locked down on Tracy Island like some glorified Count of Monte Cristo.

Sadly he didn't have time enough to reply that he'd be more than willing to try those incredibly soft sheepskin cuffs he'd gotten from Lady Heather, as both he and his burden crashed into the desert floor.

Again, he made one hell of a crater at impact.

He'd quite literally faceplanted into the sand, trying to ensure Henry Thorne wasn't squished like a bug in the process.

The kid groaned and rolled off of him, staring up at the clear blue sky and coughing dust out of his lungs.

"Ouch!"

Tony knew the feeling.

He lay there for a few moments too, letting Jarvis do a systems check on the Suit while he himself contemplated a systems check of his own aching bones.

His ribs were not happy.

"Thrusters currently rebooting. Plasma flow suffered temporary incapacity due to excessive requirement. Flight advised for Tracy Island in 3.5 minutes, sir."

"Thank you, Jarvis."

Tony struggled to sit up, groaning massively as the sand shifted under the armor that encased him. His joints were not function too particularly well either, the wrists and elbows grinding together loudly, metal on metal.

He flipped the face plate of his helmet up, to look at Henry Thorne with his own two eyes.

The kid seemed pretty calm for a man who had just fallen out of the sky, though he too was groaning as he squirmed around, trying to sit cross-legged only to find his muscles protesting.

"Jarvis, do a quick scan of our passenger."

"I already have, sir, and he would appear to be technically dead."

"Fuck!" Scott responded.

It was a statement Tony could completely agree with.

"I'm contacting Rick. You're close to one of the Medjai outposts…"

"I'm not leaving him here!" Tony wondered when exactly he might have become the responsible one.

"I've got Rick on the line now. He says you should find someone close by, heading to your coordinates to pick up Henry so you can get your ass back here. I don't really think you want Dirk or Al to fly you home…"

Tony rolled his eyes at Scott's commentary, but he managed to get back on his own two feet without the Suit locking up at the knees. "So, Henry Thorne? Who knew you'd be here of all places?"

Henry stared at him with some considerable suspicion on his face. "Well, thanks for the lift, mate. But who the hell are you and how do you know who I am?"

"I know your Father," Tony grinned at him.

Thorne stood up in a rush. "Dad? He's okay? They said he was killed, along with his Mate. He's really okay?"

"Yes. He's really okay. He's never stopped looking for you."

The relief in Henry's eyes was enormous.

"Who Turned you?" Stark demanded.

"Raza," Henry growled, his fists balling. "As he bled me dry, he took great pleasure in telling me Dad was killed in the battle."

"Well he wasn't. He's alive. Or rather, he's about as alive as we Vampires can be." Tony rolled his eyes at how ridiculously dramatic it all sounded. "Him and the crazy bastard he's Mated to, refused to accept you were dead. And so did I actually. I have some personal perspective on what it feels like to get lost in this dust plagued shit hole. And I know full damn well what the Ten Rings are capable of."

"Oh, really? And what would that be?" Henry sneered, hands on hips.

"Raza Turned me too," Tony answered, a touch more honestly than he would normally have liked, but there was absolutely nothing normal about their current situation.

Henry lowered his head. "You're Tony Stark," he muttered.

"Didn't recognize the rugged good looks? I really have to fire my publicist." Stark tried to ease the moment, but even he felt the weight of it.

He still had sufficient nightmares from that night, alone in a cave with Raza, to sleep on his own in the lab one too many times a week.

And if it wasn't his Turning that had him working late, or drinking too much brandy, it was seeing Yinsen die to save him…

"I guess the Silver Armor kinda threw me off." He waved at the hi-tech gear Tony was wearing. "Raza talked about you."

"Awww, does dad miss me?" he snarked back, not really sure he even wanted an answer to that question.

"More like he's pissed at you sneaking out and hanging with those hooligans from Sylum." Henry grinned, albeit somewhat feebly. "I'm honored to meet the man who annoyed the shit out of him."

"How did you get out?" Tony asked.

"Snuck through the back window. They were moving me to another hide out. It was all house and after house. And sheds. And tents. And cars. They don't seem to like caves any more. They'd just got to Gulmira when you landed. No idea who, and what the fuck it was, but I took the opportunity. One of the villagers hid me, and gave me a weapon before they barged in and tore him away. I was thinking about trying to get out of there and get the village some help, but it's not like anyone really gives a damn what goes on here. Not really."

Thorne turned suddenly. "Something's coming." He was still getting accustomed to his enhanced senses as a Vampire, but rapidly figuring how to put them to best use.

Tony dropped his face shield with a hefty clang, and brought up his weaponry, figuring there was sufficient power to the repulsor gloves for some self-defense moves if necessary. "Jarvis! Scan the area."

"One vehicle, approaching fast, sir," Jarvis answered, flashing onto the HUD a full terrain satellite map with heat signatures. "Also detecting a single, low flying object. Trajectory suggests it may be landing at your current coordinates."

"Missile?" Tony stepped closer to Henry, intent on pulling him safely into the protective shelter of his armor.

"No, sir. Moving with similar speed but not showing similar signatures."

"Jarvis?" Scott cut in.

"I have nothing within current database reference to utilize for comparison. Extrapolation would involve historical materials."

If he didn't know any better, Tony would've said his friend was sounding seriously frustrated.

"Sensors detect a heartbeat and flowing blood. Fast but even."

"What?" Scott wasn't sure he was hearing that right.

"Jarvis! Explain? What references do you have?" Tony wasn't in the mood for a game of Jeopardy.

"Approaching aerial object bears resemblance to a gigantic…"

"Wait!" Tony tensed as a sand colored jeep bounced over the nearest high ground, heading straight at them, kicking up a long trail of dust.

"As you wish," Jarvis muttered, somewhat disgruntled. "You may prefer to know that the driver is carrying an impressive array of personal armaments, including the following."

Tony's HUD displayed several knives, a rather odd looking short sword, a pair of his own Stark Industries designed 9mm handguns, and a Mossberg 500 pump action shotgun.

The vehicle coming for Henry was certainly being driven by a lunatic, who swung the wheel and spun to an impressive halt, just a few yards from they were stood.

A young man stepped out, and stalked over to them, hands raised.

He wore the clothing of the Medjai, displaying the sword at his hip, as well as a pair of shoulder holsters, but he made no move that might be misconstrued as threatening as he un-wrapped the headdress from around his face, and let the dark, dusty cloth drop from his chin.

Tony lowered his hands, powering down the repulsors before lifting his faceplate again.

He recognized the man.

Or at least he thought he did.

"This gentleman is a Vampire, sir," Jarvis informed him. "Currently running facial features through the database compiled by Horatio Caine. This man would not appear to be a known enemy of the Vampire Community."

"Medjai?" Tony asked, frowning.

"Not exactly," the man replied with a cautious grin. "My name is Perseus."

Henry coughed. "As in Perseus?"

"Yes." His smile grew a little broader as he glanced backward over his shoulder and gave a quick, piercing whistle.

There was a long, low screech, a ruffle of feathers, and the largest bird either Vampire had ever seen, promptly settled in front of them, with a grace that utterly belied it's size.

Tony and Henry both had to stare up at its pure, white bulk towering over them.

It's vast and powerfully muscled chest seemed reminiscent of some prehistoric critter dreamt up by Hollywood.

"This is Roc," Perseus said simply.

The bird seemed to nod at them most obligingly.

"Wait!" Tony was having flashbacks that wouldn't quit. "I wasn't hallucinating?!"

Perseus chuckled, lively green eyes flashing in amusement. "Not that time."

Stark glared at him.

The bird blinked at Perseus, tilting its head as though trying to visualize them all from different angle.

It chirped and screeched, before lifting its head and taking a few steps closer, stopping in front of Tony and peering down at him.

It pecked at the Suit, poking him in the chest with a huge and very sharp beak, lowering its head to get a better look at the other Vampires before him, allowing them in turn to see up close every detail of the tiny feathers around its wide and curious blue eyes.

"Hey!" Tony yelled, shooing his hands at it, wondering only after he'd done so, if that was really a wise response.

Roc stepped back and squawked again, before pecking at him a second time, sending Tony back a pace too.

"Roc!" Perseus gestured to the jeep as a signal he should knock off the funny stuff.

The bird chirped some more, squeaked and then pointedly looked between Tony and Perseus.

"Yes, I know it's odd to see a human in so much shiny metal, but that doesn't mean you can play with it."

Roc snorted at Tony, pecking him again before finally turning away and hoping over to the jeep, where he settled down with a shiver of his wings and notable sniff.

His eyes never left the small group, though his head would cock slightly from time to time, as though listening to something in the distance.

"He does that again, he's being cooked for Thanksgiving." Tony glared at the giant bird. "I know people with very big ovens."

"Oh, Roc means no harm. He's just curious. It's not every day he sees a human flying in his own metal shield. I'm going to go out on a limb here though, and say I'm pretty sure you want that piece of information kept silent." Perseus chuckled. "He also says it's not the first time, hmmm?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "No, really, I'd just enjoy seeing him give a press conference on the peculiar 'Iron Man' phenomenon."

Perseus glanced back at Roc. "He has a certain eloquence."

That Tony could actually translate it too, seemed better left unsaid.

Sanity was a precious enough commodity lately in lieu of everything else.

Perseus focused in on Henry. "Are you ready to go home? I've got some very anxious people who would like to see you again."

"My Dad?" he asked eagerly.

"And a young pilot named Chris."

Henry grinned when he heard that.

Many times through his ordeal he had thought of the brash American pilot, and hoped he was doing okay.

Perseus beckoned him to the jeep. "The Medjai keep a small compound not far from here. We'll get you home as fast as we can. Rick's already called Sanctuary, to let everyone know we found you."

Henry offered Tony a grateful pat on the arm. "Thanks. I mean it. You're not what people say you are."

Stark blinked. "Yeah, well don't spread that one around, huh?"

He watched as Henry made his way over to the jeep and got into the passenger seat.

Perseus gave a low whistle, Roc glancing over at Tony once more before lifting into the air with an almost lazy flap of those truly vast and glorious wings.

Staying close to the ground, it tracked the jeep as it drove away.

Tony stood there and watched them go.

Henry Thorne had been found, and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. It had been worth the broken ribs.

The kid was every inch a Meridius, with those looks, and that stubborn streak.

He grinned, but it was definitely time to go home.

Lowering the face shield of his helmet he asked, "Jarvis? How's it looking?"

"Thrusters functioning at seventy percent of nominal capacity. If you avoid getting shot out of the air once more, then you should make it home in time for dinner, sir," he replied, sounding more than a tiny bit snooty. "Ms. Potts would like me to inform you that you have guests."

"Guests?" he demanded slightly shocked.

"Samuel and Dean Winchester. They are Hunters from Sylum Clan. Master Nicolaus sent them," Jarvis answered. "They are here to protect Tracy Island."

"From what?"

"I believe it may be better if you hear that from them."

"Where's Scott?" Tony demanded, so comfortably accustomed to dealing with Jarvis having an opinion, that he as often as not forgot that Jarvis was really a machine.

Although that in itself was no longer truly the case.

Everyone had changed after Afghanistan, apparently.

Positioning himself, Tony lifted off the ground and set a course for home.

"Colonel Tracy is talking with the Winchesters, sir."

"Let them know I'm on my way."


~ New York: Traveling ~


Nicolaus sat back in the passenger seat, content to be left to some quiet contemplation.

He knew both his kids were pissed at him, and had been for a quite a while. They were discovering that there were many things he hadn't told them; not just those elements required to run a Clan, but in personal relationships and connections that neither of them ever knew about before.

When they had headed out to their waiting vehicles, Tony had just glared at his Sire before taking a seat in the back of the first SUV, making it more than clear that he wasn't going to be left behind. Jethro had just sipped his coffee, and climbed in next to his Mate.

Warrick's eyebrows had gone up, but he chose not to say anything as he got behind the wheel. There was a time and place for certain conversations.

And this was neither as far as he was concerned.

"Don't even think about it!" Jimmy had given him a most pointed look at that moment. "I put Mac and Danny on Neal-Watch, and Peter hasn't left his side either. That frees us up to make sure you don't do go anything stupid. Remember the conversation we had last year about glue and your ass?"

With that he had simply tipped his hat and moved to the second SUV, leaving Nicolaus with the distinct impression he'd just gotten spanked.

He stood for a moment and watched as Horatio, helped Speed into the second SUV too.

The redhead ignored all the glaring and the vicious insults coming at him in Gaelic. Instead he just leaned over and kissed his Mate as he snapped the seatbelt into place.

Horatio closed the door with a sigh, glancing over at his Clan Leader. "How many more surprises should we expect?"

Nico was surprised to find himself actually grinning. "More than you think you know."

H nodded as he slipped on his sunglasses and moved around to the other side of the vehicle.

Noah watched the whole exchange, and glanced over from the open driver's door, waiting for instruction.

"Follow us," Nicolaus ordered, before getting into the passenger seat of his own SUV.

They had headed in convoy, out of New Jersey and into upstate New York.

Years ago, The Vampire Council had helped Charles set up his school, funding him sufficient money for the project, and providing much needed security. The only ones who knew exactly where the place was located, were Imenand, Minerva, and their respective Clan Leaders.

Everyone simply felt more at peace with it, knowing so few had the whole truth, for it wasn't just Charles whose safety they valued. There were so many children whom he sheltered, educated, mentored and trained. Their lives mattered too.

"It wasn't personal," Nico said quietly, breaking the tense silence that radiated from the backseat.

"Speed knows," Tony commented back.

Nicolaus turned in his seat and looked squarely at his Childe, seeing only too well, the hurt and anger in his eyes. "He needed Charles to help him deal with the dreams, to understand when it was a warning versus a nightmare."

"Another thing you never mentioned." Tony glared all the more pointedly. "Do I have to keep reminding you he's my brother?"

"No, Antonio. You do not. But that was Timothy's story to tell. Not mine. There are things I have not told him, that you in turn have told me in confidence." His tone dropped slightly lower. "There are so many decisions and situations I am forced to deal with, sometimes every day, that I do not consult either of you about."

"And we've seen how that comes back to bite us in the ass!" Tony growled.

"You really haven't taken much interest in running the Clan." He held up his hand to stop the tirade he knew was coming. "Until now. I've been leading this Clan for over two hundred years, Antonio. Before that I was a part of the Medjai Council, and I kept our family together through all those storms. So you'll have to pardon me for doing what is necessary to protect those I love, those I command, and those I shelter in my Clan!"

Tony startled, unaccustomed to having his Papa address him in such a way.

Nicolaus was a passionate man, and yet he hid it, time and again, behind the veneer he was expected to wear.

Warrick glanced in the review mirror, silently warning Jethro off from getting involved in the conversation. He knew the instinct to defend one's Mate was an exceptionally strong sensation, but what they were witnessing was something for both of them to stay out of.

Sire and Childe needed to fight it out.

For themselves, and by themselves.

"None of this is a reflection on your ability to lead," Nico continued. "You more than proved that you can run this Clan, when I was…" He paused, needing the right word. "…indisposed. But you need to remember that I've been taking care of things long before you and Timothy showed up in my life again. I have connections and alliances that date back to Rome, and sometimes further still, just as you have connections from the Knights Templar."

Tony leaned back in the seat, arms crossed over his chest. "I hate being reminded that I have no idea what's going on sometimes. And no! That's not ego! Every time something happens and I'm clueless, it reminds me that I neglected my responsibilities here, for far too long."

His Papa reached out, and laid a hand on his knee. "You never neglected your responsibility. You've always been there when I needed you, boy."

"Have I?" Tony blinked back the tears in his eyes. "I ran, every time I lost my Mate, leaving you with the aftermath. And when you in turn lost Warren, I didn't stop them. I didn't know how to help you…"

"What happened to Warren was beyond anyone's control." Nicolaus took a deep, calming breath, his own nerves jangling at the mention of his lost one's name. And though he felt Warrick's love surge through their Bond, he still glanced over, just to remind himself that his Mate was right there next to him. "You did what you could, and what I would allow you to do. You took him home to Italy. Let that be enough."

"Egypt scared the shit out of me, Papa!" Tony reverted into Italian without even realizing it. "E ogni sorpresa che si presenta, appena mi ricorda come ero impreparato, come lo sono ancora impreparati!"

"Sii paziente con me," Nico responded, in his native tongue. "C'è così tanto in vita mia che mi dimentico di spiegare. C'è ancora cose Warrick non lo sa."

"Yeah, but I can tie you up to the bed and get information out of you that way," Warrick replied in English, pulling them both back into the present moment. He glanced in the mirror to look at Tony. "Want to talk about all the things you've forgotten to tell Jethro, Tim and your Papa now?"

¬¬¬¬¬¬

"I'm pretty damn sure I'd remember if there were mutants!" Tony smirked and shifted in his seat, trying to ease the conversation away from being too awkward.

"No doubt. But you probably forgot to mention the whole thing about getting arrested in the 1920's, and what happened that lead to the Turning of that inimitable inspiration we call Munch." Warrick smirked broadly when Nico turned to look at his kid again, a questioning expression written large across his face.

"Gee, thanks mom!" He glared at the back of Warrick's head and blew him a silent raspberry. "But point made."

"So is there anything that will be coming up in this meeting, likely to shock both your kids?" Jethro asked easily, in between sips of coffee.

Nico smiled. "I guarantee it."

"Nicolaus!" Tony's eyes narrowed. "Do not make me call your mother."

Warrick snickered. "You have no idea how ironic that statement is."

Tony threw his hands up in exasperation. "Do I even want to know what that means?"

Sylum's Clan Leader settled back into his seat, just watching the road. "There is one thing you really do need to know about Charles Xavier."

"What?" Tony leaned forward, watching him closely.

"You can't hide anything from him."

If that didn't sound forbidding, then Antonio Crisafi didn't know what did.

He glanced over at Jethro. His Mate had a small frown on his face, so he reached over and took his hand, squeezing it firmly.

Seeing the Bond break between Horatio and Speed, hadn't only affected the two of them.

It had gotten to everyone.

And the dark fear hidden deep in his Mate's eyes, had served to enhance Tony's own particular nightmares. He had witnessed and lived through Jethro's death far too many times for the thought that even as a Vampire, he could be separated from him in some way, or from their Bond.

Jethro had gotten him out of the hospital for a while, finding them a nearby hotel, where he'd pinned him down and not let him back up until the next morning. Tony had no doubt he wouldn't have let him out of bed at all, if it weren't for the fact that he was desperate to see Timothy.

He sighed, laying his head back against the rest.

His Papa was right. No matter the storm, they always came through it.

Better.

Stronger.

The vehicle's occupants fell into a comfortable silence, and Tony felt his eyes slip closed as the soothing stroke of Jethro's thumb over his wrist and palm, lulled him to sleep.

Nicolaus glanced over his shoulder once more, and he gave Jethro a small smile before turning back in his own seat with a contented chuckle.

"Get some rest, General." Warrick reached over and squeezed his thigh. "You've been on the go since our kid was taken from Miami."

"I know," he replied, but for once Nico did as he was ordered without arguing, closing his eyes and gently drifting off, biting back a soft chuckle when he felt a familiar presence in his head.


***


"I'm not a child!" Speed shot a filthy glare at his Mate. He was tired of being treated like an invalid. He was fine. "And if anyone in the front seat makes a comment…" he muttered.

Jimmy just looked back at him in review mirror. "What? I wasn't going to say a single damn thing about the lack of control we all felt watching you die right there, or how this whole thing brought back some painful reminders of other times when everything had gone to shit around us."

"Emotional blackmail?!" Timothy's eyebrows went up in a mixture of shock and admiration. "That's what you're giving me? You've improved over the years."

"He's learned from the best," Noah added. "Namely your Sire if I'm not mistaken."

Horatio leaned over and ran a hand through his Mate's thick, black locks trying to calm him down a little.

He knew full well how all the coddling was annoying Speed like hell, but that feeling of emptiness when their Bond had just snapped, was something too painful for words.

"Remember how I was when you were shot?" He pulled his Mate's attention away from the Hunters in front of them.

"Because you didn't clean your gun," Jimmy added.

Yeah, that little gem wasn't going away anytime soon.

"Really?!" Speed snarled at him.

"Face it, Quinn," the Hunter responded, neither ashamed nor repentant. "You're getting a bodyguard now just as much as Nico. Okay, so this wasn't your fault, but it still scared the shit out of us." He paused, then purposely caught Timothy's gaze and held it. "Think about how you felt when Nicolaus was missing, and you'll know how the rest of us were all trying to cope with this shit. Then remember how you feel now, the next time he's out of sight, and you'll know what we're feeling. All of us. Got it?"

Every occupant in the car looked at James Hickok in shock.

It was rare for the Hunter to say so much, let alone say it so very forcefully.

Noah reached over and laid a hand on his Mate's knee, keeping it there until he felt the tension drain out of him.

Horatio unhooked his seatbelt and slid over next to his Mate.

Speed was stunned into silence, but he could see in those dark, expressive eyes, that what Jimmy had said was sinking in. Reaching through the Bond, feeling the conflict of emotions, he knew he could do nothing but hold his love in his arms, and let him ride it out.

Timothy settled at Horatio's gentle touch, that one simple act, a stark reminder of all that had transpired.

"I would rather die, than feel that again," H whispered.

Tim closed his eyes and leaned into him, reveling in his caress. "So would I," he murmured, and he meant it. The physical pain alone had been utterly excruciating, but it seemed like nothing compared to the moment when he'd first woken from being Turned, and not felt his Mate.

The terrible, anguished scream that tore from his Soul, had terrified everyone who heard it.

He buried his face in Horatio's chest, inhaling the familiar scent he always associated with the redhead. "You know, I didn't do anything stupid this time."

"I know," H sighed. But that was what scared him more than anything; the very idea that Speed could be picked up and almost killed for a war that wasn't even theirs to fight. That such a thing could potentially happen to any Mated pair? Or any innocent Soul? "Still, it won't stop me from being slightly over protective for the next century or two."

"Well you can't assign me Jimmy or Noah. They're Papa's bodyguards." He turned his head slightly, and gave his Childe a soft smile in the mirror.

He knew Jimmy had not just been reliving his own Turning, but also the loss of Bulldog.

Hickok held those he considered family, tightly to his heart, and was viscously protective of them all. To have been stuck there in that hospital, watching him die, unable to do a single thing to stop it, or find a single son of a bitch he could Hunt down to put it right, had surely screwed with his friend's mind.

But they would be okay.

They were built to survive.

All of them.

Noah's small, wicked smile however, was really disturbing. "Jimmy is assigned to Nicolaus. I've been assigned to you."

Speed frowned.

Jimmy chuckled.

If anyone ever thought Jimmy was a Hunter no one could ditch, they clearly hadn't met Noah.

"And you can blame your dear old brother for that one." Jimmy's Mate smirked some more, feeling decidedly smug about it.

But Tony had made it clear, he was Second-in-Command, and his orders were that Noah was to stick to Speed's ass.

There had been a reference in there to glue too.

Jimmy had laughed delightedly.

"Fuck!" Speed continued cursing and grumbling in Gaelic, but he didn't move from where he sat, curled up in Horatio's arms. When he felt his Mate start chuckling, he muttered, "I will seek revenge the moment you do something stupid at work." Glancing up at his Mate, he knew he sounded nowhere near threatening enough. "And you know that's just inevitable."

"Which is why we have Dwight on speed dial," Noah commented, turning once again, to give the Clan's Head of Security a knowing nod. "Though with Jim and now Shep…" He paused and looked at his Mate. "We really need more Hunters."

"Think Scurlock would send Holliday?" Jimmy snorted.

"Yeah, but do we want Holliday near Longworth?" Noah asked.

"Good point." Jimmy frowned. "Just means we'll have to get Riddick to move to New Orleans."

"I hate all of you," Speed muttered, as he closed his eyes and just enjoyed the comfort of his Mate. "Wait until we get to Charles' School."

"Is there anything you want to tell me before hand?" Horatio asked, kissing the top of his head.

"He helped me with the nightmares." Speed yawned, his eyes closing.

Despite ranting long and loud about being perfectly fine, he was still very tired.

It was going to take a while for him to come back to full health and strength. He just didn't want to admit it to himself.

He had no doubt his Papa, and everyone else with an interest in resolving what had happened, were plotting some nasty things for Magneto, though personally he was looking forward to dealing with Mystique.

After all she had shot him.

Twice.

And he didn't even want to think about her trying to act like him.

That was just creepy.

So, yeah…

He had a bone to pick with her.

Or two.

"Get some sleep." Horatio's voice was soothing in his ear.

"You should also get some rest." Jimmy looked back at his Head of Security, with the kind of expression that wouldn't be argued with. "You got about as much sleep as the rest of us."

"And when will you rest?" H asked.

"When I'm dead."


~ Xavier's School for the Gifted ~


Charles was waiting for his guests to arrive.

Having made certain that both Nicolaus and Timothy were able to rest peacefully on their long drive, he had also ensured their Mates would be rather more at ease also. And for a moment he had touched the agitated mind of Antonio Crisafi, allowing him too, some much needed comfort.

It was Warrick who worried him the most though, and he knew he would have to get the Pirate lying down to rest more effectively, once everyone arrived. Ever since Egypt, Warrick had been so intently focused on Nicolaus, that he allowed nothing for himself in moments of the greatest stress.

Each mind he ever entered was unique, but in his experience it was a peculiarity of the Vampire species, that he could follow the Bond to their particular Mate, and on occasion to their Sired Children. It was most fascinating.

The Bond between Nicolaus and Warrick was exceptionally strong, enduring even through the terrors of Egypt. It simply never wavered.

Charles had seen many Bonds, each varying according to personality and circumstance. A few were fragmented, others stronger, pulsing with energy, vitality and power; while some were soft and far more warm. But he always enjoyed the strength in shared equally between Nicolaus and Warrick.

He had to admit he was rather curious to both see and feel the Bond between Timothy and his Mate after everything that had transpired for the pair of them. And once again, Magento's determination to be recognized had caused so much pain. A part of him still ached so very much for what might have been, but the larger part was determined to make sure Magneto could not hurt anyone again – Mutant, Human or Vampire.

Then situation with Timothy, however, had quite effectively opened the boy's mind so very much more than it already had been, and he could sense it reaching out, searching for something that had been blocked from it for centuries. He had first felt the young Vampire's ability when he had originally met Timothy Quinn, but as a Mutation, it manifested more as a tightly controlled mental gift than something far more openly noticeable. As the years progressed, so their Doctors had come to learn far more about the Vampire gene, and how it behaved in total dominance to all other genetic coding, doing much too generally suppress Mutations and their many variants.

When the Vampire gene had to all intents, disappeared from Timothy's DNA, so his original genetic behaviors had resurfaced, including his mental abilities, leading Charles to understand that he would need to sit down with his grandson, and teach him how to live with his suddenly far more active talents.

The Professor smiled to himself.

He really couldn't wait to be introduced to all of his grandchildren at long last.

It was a regret he had always lived with, not being able to show himself to them.

Once he'd initially made the decision to open his school, he agreed to be well hidden, for his own safety as well as the protection of others. But that had ultimately meant staying away from the Vampire community too, including his family.

He had heard the name of Nicolaus Valerius Meridius mentioned on more than one occasion, but had not actually met the Leader of Sylum Clan until after the Second World War.

Appearing tired and weary, every bit as everyone else had seemed to look after enduring such terrible and terrifying years, Nicolaus had approached him from the far end of one of the Castle Cloisters in Geneva. Charles had been busy, talking to Minerva about architecture requirements for the school compound, excited by the permits and land grants which had only just been obtained, when he noticed him stride purposefully toward where they sat, and in a fleeting moment, everything around the two of them simply melted away.

He was no longer sitting in his chair in a darkened hallway, but instead he sat upon a warm stone bench, looking out over a field of wheat, toward the long dirt road that led across his lands.

A pleasantly soft breeze rippled through his hair, and the smell of sweet lavender tickled his nose. There were bats, wheeling overhead.

Dusk was falling.

A young man on a fine, gray steed, rode up the path at a gallop, before reining in and dismounting his horse with the grace and ease that came so brilliantly with youth.

'Papa! I bring news!'

'Nicolaus!'

Charles had shaken his head to chase away the past, and found himself back in that same Cloister in Geneva from which in truth, he had not moved.

Yet when he looked up, the same young man, if somewhat older and wiser with the passing of the years, was right there, smiling back at him.

"Nick." Or so he chose to introduce himself, holding out his hand.

And Charles had reached up for it, assaulted by so many emotions, it was desperately hard to contain them. "Oh, I'm fine, young man…" he muttered softly.

Nick had squatted down in front of his chair, ensuring they were eye to eye; something that Charles came to instantly respect.

"Sir, did not ask if you were, but I had thought to enquire it."

Charles had felt himself blush. "Ahh! It is an old gift I possess, come to terms with after much tragedy," he answered honestly, not sure why he was telling a complete stranger such things. Yet Nick neither flinched nor looked away.

Instead he held the kindly gaze they shared, and each truly saw and understood.

Charles reached out to cup his cheek. "Nicolaus."

The smile that graced him in return was as honest as he had ever seen upon a man.

"Papa," Nick answered, closing his eyes a moment. "You came home."

"To find you full grown into a fine strong man," Charles answered, his mind reaching out easily, needing him then as a ship needed its anchor.

His gift had developed later in life, not during puberty, as was proving the case with most of those he had been starting to discover. Many discussions with Plato on the nature of the mind, had resulted in the theory that perhaps his weakened body, crippled by the effects of Polio as a child, had pushed back a more normal timeframe for such things to manifest themselves.

"The benefits of your teaching, sir," came the ready answer.

Minerva had positively squeaked once she realized what was happening right there beside her. "I would have to say the usual formal introductions are not needed." She grinned at the two of them, and Nick stood up, sweeping her hand to his lips, that he might kiss it gladly. "But as you both know, I am such a stickler for proper protocol. So Charles, this is Nicolaus Meridius, Sylum's Clan Leader, and a direct descendant of our own dearest Maximus. Nico, this is Charles Xavier, the Council's tutor. A Professor no less. History and English Literature."

They shook hands, as was only right, each laughing lightly.

Then Nick turned to address her with some concern. "It is truly good to see you Minerva. We seem to spend too long between visits. I take it all is well? No more grounds for anxiety than with the War now ceased?"

"All is as can be expected," she sighed, turning to Charles as she stood. "We shall doubtless catch up with one another soon, but for now I shall let the two of you have chance for to talk. Something tells me you're going to have much to discuss."

She would not have them accompany her back inside, but instead shooed them away, smiling happily, eager to tell her Mate about the unexpected finding of old Souls.

"Come then, I'll go with you." Charles maneuvered his chair around, and wheeling it down the Cloister with practiced hands.

Nick walked next to him, both of them quiet and contemplative after what had just happened.

"I fear am still young compared to most residents of the Castle," Charles began.

Nick chuckled, "Many of us are."

He stopped suddenly and Nick turned to face him.

"I'm not sure the protocol for such a moment as this."

"There really isn't any," Nick shrugged.

"Minerva and I have some long discussions about Souls connecting." Charles looked up at the Vampire, who once had been his youngest son. "Never thought I would experience it. And I never imagined it would be so powerful."

Nicolaus smiled at him gently, responding with ease. "It doesn't change who you are, or your relationships with those you know now, in this life. My daughter returned as a Templar Knight, my son a Celt. You may have the Soul of my father back in Rome, but essentially you are not him. He died. And you came into being with his Essence."

"No, I'm not him." Charles nodded in understanding. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to know the man you've become. We are connected."

And he knew Nick felt it then.

In more than just his Soul.

For the strangest, yet most welcome sensation filled Nico's mind, and a peace he had not felt in many a long and tedious year, flooded through him.

"You do have a gift," he murmured. "How could anyone hide anything from you?"

"That, is a very good question. But forgive my presumption. I am not accustomed to anyone who could so freely accept my presence, even those who have sheltered me here against the world."

Nicolaus nodded as they continued down the hallway. "So then, Professor Xavier, why don't you tell me what exactly you and Minerva are plotting? And why I've been summoned to Geneva."

"Besides myself, just now, have you met those few people who are just slightly different from even we who are Vampires? Who appear to have been gifted with abilities that cannot be explained? Or traits which they may struggle to hide?" he asked, with all seriousness and sincerity.

Nico thought almost instantly of his Camp Slave back in Rome, his personal servant in whom he had invested so much; someone who had stayed by his side for centuries, yet never been Turned, and could perform the most marvelous feats of seeming magic.

One who had claimed New Orleans as his own.

Remy Etienne LeBeau.

He of mischievous intent.

And startling alacrity.

Better known to those whom he befriended…

…as Gambit.

"Yes," he chuckled. "Yes, indeed I do."

"Then you should understand that there needs to be a place for these people to go, to study, to train. Somewhere safe. Somewhere for them to explore who they are. Some of them are children. And some of them are terrifying in their capacity to change the way we see the world. That same world is not ready for them yet. But one day it shall be." Charles once again stopped, needing to ensure he made his point.

"To hide." Nick nodded in agreement. "I understand. How can I help you?"

"I will soon be opening a school."


***


A year later, ground was broken and the school was established.

It had taken the combined workings of a few other Clan Leaders to get the property fully secured and all the necessary buildings constructed on time. But room had been supplied for the place to grow as required, and there were sufficient funds available for whatever they might need in years to come.

Vampires knew how to plan ahead.

They generally learned that skill faster than most other people.

Charles had worked little with Lucien La Croix, but accepted most realistically, that his presence would inevitably disturb Knight Clan's Leader. It proved to be his influence however, that finally gave them the land they needed, and made sure it was secured through the Canadian and United States Governments in perpetuity.

Malcolm Montgomery had always made sure there were Hunters available for them, and Charles knew that Mal's Clan Members were unique in themselves, so it only seemed fitting in a Karmic sort of way.

Josiah Scurlock hadn't had much contact with any of it over the years. On a couple of occasions, he'd harbored one or two kids who were fleeing from their homes, but he'd wound up sending them to Charles, for the chance to see how their lives really could be. Doc had a habit of picking up strays, and not all of them were quite what they seemed sometimes.

Charles mostly stayed in contact with Nicolaus.

After their initial meeting in Geneva, Sylum Clan had gone on to play a vital part in the school and it's life, and Nico was one of the few Clan Leaders to visit regularly.

Timothy Quinn had found some solace there.

So too had Remy, but prying him from New Orleans was never a simple task.

Charles in turn had done much for Sylum Clan.

The only catch was in having no one else really know about it.

Charles Xavier smiled at the two SUVs as they came up the front driveway, and stopped at the main doors to the school. He maneuvered his chair away from the office window, and headed out to the entrance; a most peculiar sense of anticipation, tightening in his chest.

For just as there were few Vampires who knew the truth about the Mutants, so there were fewer Mutants who knew about Vampires.

It was going to be an interesting collision of worlds.

Jean and Scott were already at the door.

"Professor!" they chimed together.

"Are you the welcoming committee or my protection detail?" he asked, joking with them to tease the frowns from their faces.

"Both!" Scott answered firmly.

"Nicolaus!" The moment his son stepped down from the first car, so Charles moved his chair forward, sighing with contentment as he was embraced in warmly comforting arms. "I wish your visit to us came under different circumstances."

Sylum's Clan Leader nodded soberly, then motioned for Tony, who was complaining that his legs had gotten stiff from too long in the back seat. "Antonio! Allow me to present Professor Charles Xavier." The formal introductions were a very necessary courtesy. "Charles, this is my Second-in-Command, Antonio Crisafi."

Charles held out his hand, and had it clasped in a most sincere fist. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Antonio. I have heard a great deal about your life and influence upon Sylum."

"Tony," he blushed. "Please, you may call me Tony."

"Timothy!" Charles spotted the somewhat smaller of the Meridius siblings, as he struggled out of the other vehicle and came forward with his Mate. "I am so glad to see you well. You gave us all a scare, young man."

"Blame your old friend," he muttered, being honest if not exactly diplomatic. He knew only too well that he couldn't hide what he was thinking, so he never even tried whenever he was in Charles Xavier's company. It just gave him too much headpain. "The redhead beside me here, is Horatio Caine. I'm sure you've heard all about him too. And the coffee drinking one next to Tony, who's probably needing a refill by now, is his Mate, Jethro Gibbs."

"Yes indeed!" There were many more handshakes exchanged. "I am aware of you all, and I look forward to getting chance to know you better."

"The two in cheap suits leaning against the SUV, are amongst my best Hunters. James Hickok and Noah Dixon," Nicolaus continued, watching them nod in turn, acknowledging their names and their status. "And of course, you know Warrick."

Charles nodded. "Welcome. Welcome, all of you!"

He brushed carefully across the minds of the two Hunters. Forever cautious with new people when they arrived at the school, he was curious about their intentions. With Jimmy however, he ran instantly into a visual reference that was something akin to barbed wire fencing, and knew that he would have to push if he wanted to see more, but that was something he would never forcibly inflict on another person unless in defense of his life, or the lives of his students.

He glanced instead at Noah, to see him staring back intently, clearly assessing the moment from his own personal perspective.

Charles gave a slight nod, and he in turn relaxed a little, whilst shifting one step closer to his Mate.

There was no hostility from either of them.

Just curiosity.

Concern.

And an alertness that lay well hidden beneath their calm exteriors.

He turned his chair slightly, and beckoned for Jean and Scott to come meet their guests.

"I would like to introduce you all to Doctor Jean Gray-Summers, whom I freely confess I would be lost without. And this is her husband. Scott Summers is in charge of our security arrangements here."

Further handshakes, smiles and nods were exchanged.

"Scott, Jean, these people are freely welcome, and know about everything we do here. Please feel at ease to explain things to them fully, should they ask you questions." Charles knew they too were cautious, but willing to follow his lead.

Scott looked over at Jimmy and Noah, frowning slightly at the very obvious government agents he was presented with. On opening his mouth to say something, he was cut off when Jean took his hand and squeezed it tightly, giving him a quick warning glare before she in turn addressed the group.

"Welcome! It's good to have you all with us. I'll have rooms arranged for everyone…" she beamed at them, keeping a firm grip on her husband's fingers.

"Only four rooms will be needed, Jean," Charles informed her. "All of them are Bonded pairs, and separating them is definitely not advisable."

"Then I'll make sure they are well secured in the guest wing." Scott glanced at the newcomers.

Jimmy didn't budge.

But one eyebrow rose slightly at hearing the word 'secured'.

"I'll let everyone get settled." Charles moved his chair around to head back up the ramp to the front door. "Nicolaus? I expect to see you in my office, in an hour."

"Yes, sir," Nico nodded.

Charles turned back for a moment, somewhat unexpectedly. "Oh, and son? I suggest you explain a little more to my Grandchildren, about how we met."

Nicolaus shook his head, muttering curses in Latin under his breath as Charles gave him a pointed look before heading back into the main building.

Scott and Jean lingered longer, waiting to escort them.

Warrick chuckled so very knowingly.

Nico turned to look at his two kids, who were both giving him identical death-glares.

"Charles has the soul of my father from Rome, who had died a great many years before either of you were born, and considering the secrecy that has always been needed to protect him and this school, it was decided not to tell anyone." He held up his hand, cutting off the tirades that he knew were coming. "It was his decision, and I have respected that. Now, instead of yelling at me, take this moment and get to know Charles for the man he is today, and afterwards you can learn some more about the man who helped make me what I am."

Tony sighed, "Any more surprises?"

"Of course there are, but why ruin all the fun?" Nico smirked unashamedly as he headed up the ramp to the front door. "Wait until you meet Logan."

Speed glanced at his sibling, feeling his pain. "I hate it when he does that."

"You'd think we would be used to it by now," Tony grumbled, as the two kids followed their Sire into the building.

Jethro sighed in unison with Horatio. "Should we worry about this Logan?"

The redhead nodded, looking at the door over the top of his sunglasses. "Yes. And everything else that we're going to get blindsided with the moment we step in there."

"I remember a time when dealing with thieves, drug dealers, and serial killers were the worst that things could happen." Jethro smirked at his friend.

"Then Speed rose off the autopsy table and changed everything." H shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, trying to appear decisive even if he actually felt anything but.

"Wouldn't change a thing though."

"Nope."

They followed their Mates into the school, leaving their Hunters leaning against the SUV.

Warrick glanced over at them.

"What's the story with the dude in the strange glasses?" Noah asked.

"He shoots optic blasts from his eyes, like high powered lasers. The glasses protect those around him, and give him the ability to actually open his eyes. He's incredibly loyal to Charles, since he was the one to save him, and give him his sight back," Warrick informed them, astonished by his own much prized information, now that he had a chance to use it.

"Laser's or not, I'll be doing rounds," Jimmy muttered. "Magneto had mercenaries, and if Frankenstein is involved we're talking about some highly trained Rogues on his payroll. I don't doubt that for a second, but I do doubt laser eye boy is prepared for dealing with it."

That was when Warrick knew James Hickok would get along way too easily with Logan. "Both of you seem to be taking this fairly calmly."

Noah shrugged.

Jimmy pushed himself off the SUV. "I've gotten used to the crazy things both of you have asked us to deal with, hunt down, and keep secret."


~ Tracy Island ~


Sam and Dean stood once more on the small island runway, watching in wonder and astonishment as Tony Stark landed somewhat gracefully there in front of them.

The high impact stresses on the suit, forced him to one knee in order to brace himself, but such moments were probably always going to be dramatic.

For Sam it was like watching a sci-fi movie come to life, but for Dean there was a sudden rush of energy as his mind began working overtime on the multiple engineering feats that Tony had accomplished in not just making the suit, but actually getting it to work.

"Holy fuck!!" he breathed. "That's… That's…"

He flailed a little, until Sam caught his arm and held him still.

"Yeah, Dean. Awesome. I get it," he snorted.

The moment Tony was on his feet, Scott stalked over to him, leaving his Mate seriously wondering if the suit could save him from an irate Vampire.

Jarvis opened the faceplate for him before he could do it himself.

"Traitor," Tony muttered, addressing his friend sotto voce.

"Obviously, sir," Jarvis snarked.

Scott stopped in front of his Mate, glaring furiously.

Tony gave him his most charming, and disarming smile.

Scott shook his head then stepped forward and kissed him soundly.

He just needed that moment, to know his Mate was safe, to feel it in his Soul. And as he moved away again, so there was a rare softness in Tony's eyes that only he ever saw, when it was the two of them, and no one else mattered.

"Later on, you and I are having a long conversation about inappropriate no-fly zones." Scott gave him a stern look before turning back to their guests.

Tony shifted his focus to the two Hunters, and his expression changed entirely. "So who the hell are you two, again?"

"We're from Sylum. Nicolaus sent us."

"Why?" Tony demanded.

"Stane has located your little island paradise here. He's on his way," Dean informed him, not mincing his words. "We were ordered to get you to safety."

Tony marched toward him in the armor, eyeing him with a certain degree of bored amusement. "You're very funny."

He had heard about the Winchesters, Jarvis having filled him in on most of it during the flight home. There was mention of the oldest one being Turned violently against his will, which was obviously something he could at least empathize with if he chose to, but the taller and more ominously silent younger one, was more of an enigma.

They were obviously Mates to anyone with eyes, and he wondered how Jeff took the idea of brothers being connected that way.

But that was an entirely different issue, for an entirely different day.

"Dude! I didn't fly my ass out in here an evil metal death tube just to stroke your over inflated ego. This is a serious threat here," Dean growled. "Now you're either gonna get with that, or we're wasting our time."

Sam blinked at him, wondering if the metal clad Anthony Stark was about to raise a seriously weighty fist and deck his brother for being that rude.

"You should do stand up," Tony snarked, choosing not to hide the smile that crossed his face. "I'm serious here. Get yourself an Agent. You'd make good money."

Dean also grinned. "And you really are the pompous jackass the media says you are."

Sam was horrified.

But Scott was chuckling.

Tony had found himself a new friend. Though his Mate would never admit it out loud in a million years.

Still, a certain dread crept through their Bond, and he knew full well that just mentioning Stane's name was enough to get Tony's skin crawling.

"I have a plan," Dean assured him, not really comprehending the total destructive power of what Stark was clad in at that moment.

It was a good plan.

Really.

But Fate hated the Winchesters.

And Tony Stark too apparently.

Alarms screamed across the island.

Scott's radio broke into the shrieking.

Snatching it off his belt, he answered the callsign from his Father. "Dad? What is it?"

"Four boats have breached the sonar perimeter." Jeff Tracy was as deadly calm as he always was in a crisis, but no one flew experimental space craft for a living if they routinely panicked at the first sign of danger. "Moving faster than anything I've ever seen. Low to the water. Radar invisible. Invasion protocol is now in effect. Arm yourselves and get inside."

The house was being turned into a fortress even as they spoke; the staff hurrying to designated 'bunker' areas, the windows being screened by automatic safety alert, while the labs were being remotely locked one by one.

Tony turned his attention to the water's edge, trying to see where the boats were coming from, only to be shocked at finding them already pulling up to the docks and onto the beach.

No hard fought approach from the rear of the island behind the volcano.

That meant they already knew they'd been seen by the sonar net thirty miles out, and were aiming for a head on assault.

There were indeed four in total, all small, dark, heavily armored craft, well camouflaged for the sea.

Obediah Stane stepped out of the leading boat and put his foot on the dock like he owned the place.

A phalanx of well armed, well equipped, and purposeful commandos followed him as he adjusted his suit jacket, seeming for all the world like a man out on a harmless stroll.

Then as though guided by some higher power, he looked straight across at the runway, his eyes narrowing on Stark.

Tony growled as he slammed the face shield down.

"Jarvis! Reassess weapons status and arm the island defenses."

"Already on it, sir."

"Good. We've got work to do."


~ Charles Xavier's Office ~


Exactly one hour on the dot after arriving at the school, Nicolaus Valerius Meridius was sat comfortably in a chair across from Charles Xavier.

He had left Warrick in bed, resting contentedly.

The moment they'd gotten to the privacy of their room, Warrick had pushed him against the wall and kissed him soundly; Nico retaliating by shoving him into the en-suite bathroom, stripping both of them as they went.

The water was hot.

Their bodies slick.

Warrick had Nico pinned face first to the tiles, hands gripping at his hips as he pushed into him, needing to be close to him, needing to Claim what was his.

Neither lasted long, both reaching the peak of it with a muted cry that was barely heard above the rushing water as it cascaded on their heads and over their aching muscles.

When they were done, Nicolaus had cleaned both of them up, and finally laid his Mate out naked on the bed, using his mouth and tongue to bring him to orgasm again and get him relaxed enough to fall asleep.

Satisfied, he had quickly changed into some clean clothes and headed out, intent on exploring the school for a little while, until his Father's appointed time had come.

Though he had been there more than a few times, he'd never really wandered around just for the sake of it, but seeing that there might be an extreme likelihood for some kind of an attack on the place, he wanted to get a lay of the land wherever possible, though even he quickly figured that such a thing would not be accomplished in twenty minutes.

There were dormitories in the wings, one for the older children, one for the younger, and a complex maze of corridors and matching doorways that would certainly prove tricky enough for anyone storming the rooms. The carpets matched, the wallpaper matched. All that was different were the paintings and artworks, placed to try and stimulate the minds of those in what was basically a heavily fortified learning establishment.

Still, a little confusion wouldn't be enough to stop potential danger altogether.

He was making his way back down the stairs, when a group of kids rushed up past him.

A few stopped and stared at him, trying to figure out who he was.

He just gave them a smile.

A tall black woman, with short cropped, yet startling silver hair, brushed past him as she ushered them away. She was strong and strikingly beautiful in the traditional sense of the definition, and yet it sat easily upon her as though a long forgotten burden. She paused just enough to study him for a fleeing moment, and he held her gaze gladly, pleasantly warmed by it.

With the ghost of a smile and an acknowledging nod, she chased her charges to their rooms, leaving him with the distinct sensation that he had just been fully assessed and found to be most pleasing.

He hadn't felt that from a stranger in quite some time.

Making his way to the Professor's office, he got as far as raising his hand to knock, but hadn't yet touched knuckles to wood when Charles' called out from within that he should enter.

He really hated when he did that.

Charles just smiled. "Everyone settled?" he asked, gesturing for Nicolaus to help himself from the silver tea tray that had been set for them.

"Warrick is taking a nap," he replied, grinning mischievously. "He really needed the rest. None of us have slept well since this began."

"Well, Jean has already kidnapped Horatio and Timothy to discuss what happened. As far as I know, they are already working up comparisons to assess the implications to Human, Mutant and Vampire DNA." He shook his head slightly.

"Jean knows that we're Vampires?" Nico found his sense of ease suddenly wiped away again.

"She does now," Charles assured him.

"How exactly did that conversation go?"


~ Flashback ~


"What is going on exactly, Charles?" Jean asked, her tone indicating that she wanted answers, and she wasn't bothered about pushing him to get them. "Who are these people?"

"Nico is one of those who first helped set up this school. He's also one of those who helps hide it." Charles turned his chair to face her, looking up at his protégé. "You've seen him here before."

"Yes. And we know he's a benefactor, but you started this place in the nineteen-fifties. There is no way he was around then," Scott commented, from his place at her side. "His Father maybe, but he can't possibly have been born until the late 1960's at least! And I don't like the idea of Feds walking around here either. How do we know they won't do anything to the kids?"

Charles gazed pointedly at Scott for what felt like the longest pause. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." He answered without thought.

It was all about trust.

"Then believe me when I say those men you call Feds, and all those who have come to us today, would die before hurting a child. Any child," he answered firmly. "As for your other questions, Nicolaus and the rest of them, are Vampires."

They both blinked at him, gauging whether he'd freely joke with them on something so serious.

Jean looked over at her husband, then back at the Professor. "Vampires? As in real Vampires. Blood sucking. Fangs. The whole thing?"

"Yes. And you two of all people, should respect the idea that there is far more out there than we know pretend to know anything of." He sounded as stern as he felt.

"Is it a mutation?" Jean asked, her curiosity spiking as she attempted to rationalize the validity of it.

"No, though they've had scientist studying the Vampire gene now for decades. From a few of the reports I've read, the Vampire gene dominates all other genetic coding. It looks to wrap itself around a person's DNA, effectively making them into a Vampire, not mutating them into one."

"Are they the Cure?" Scott asked with a sense of trepidation.

The Cure was a Mutant Myth - a secret key, a way to be free, be normal, be no longer the one stared at, treated differently, dealt with as an outcast. Usually their youngest students came to him asking about it, but as they grew up, they generally realized the impossibility of it, and learned how to settle themselves with their own unique skills.

"The Vampire gene can mask, or perhaps even block a Mutant gene," he explained, though he knew there was a lot more to the studies than the little he had read. He needed to talk with Nico about getting a few of their scientists to the school so they could work with Jean and pool their resources and experience. "More importantly, they have samples of the Cure, and have faced its effects."

"What?!" Jean stared at him in utter shock. "What do you mean they have samples? It's real??"

"Timothy was attacked by Magneto, who in turn gave him the Cure." Charles started to explain it all, but Jean had already fled the room, in search of her subject.

"Why was he attacked?" Scott asked.

"Why do you think?" Charles countered.

"Magneto mistook him for a Mutant. He doesn't know about Vampires yet," he answered, a small, wicked grin appearing on his face. "Any advantage is one we can use."


***


"I'm not sure if I should feel sorry for Speed or Jean, or maybe Horatio!" Nicolaus chortled at his Father. "They seemed to have accepted the Vampire thing very quickly."

"Jean is all about the science. Once she sees how it works, she'll accept that Vampires are just another facet of human evolution." Charles sipped his tea. "I was wondering if it would be possible to bring some of your scientists here to the school. As you know, we have a marvelous facility at your disposal. With Stillson threatening to 'save the world' by forcing Mutants to take the Cure, and Magneto using it as a weapon against Mutants who don't follow him, we're going to need our best scientific minds working together."

"You're also going to need more security," a voice commented from the doorway, having interrupted them without so much as a knock at the door, or a polite request to disturb their meeting.

It was Jimmy, standing with an agitated Scott right at his side. "There are weak links on all perimeters. Any half decent Rogue would be in this school and causing mayhem before the alarms even went off. I'm sorry to barge in but you have to know about this stuff!"

"We have heat sensors laid throughout the forest." Scott glared at the Hunter, challenging his assessment.

"Vampires don't give off heat like humans do!" Jimmy countered.

"Why would Magneto be using Vampires?" he demanded. "He doesn't know you exist! Hell, I'm still not sure you exist."

"Really, Laser Eye Boy?"

Scott growled and spun round to face the man behind him. "Logan! Nice of you to show up."

Jimmy chuckled as he turned to look at the newcomer, and his humor rapidly morphed into a coughing fit. "Really?" he gasped, trying not to choke. "Does Gabriel know? Or anyone, for that matter?"

"Oh, you mean Great Grandpappy, or is that Great Grandson?" Logan patted Scott on the shoulder then slid past him into the room. "Charles," he nodded. "Nicolaus! I thought I smelt Vampires."

"He knows about Vampires?" Scott asked Charles, horrified by the implication. "Why do I not know about this?"

"Better yet, he knows about Gabriel?" Jimmy asked Nico, sounding as outraged as his counterpart. "Why do I not know about this?"

The two of them looked at each other, then back at their respective Leaders, both wearing identical 'we want answers to the rest of the secrets you're keeping from us, right now' expressions.

"To answer both of you, when I found Logan I knew he was special," Charles began.

"Well, that's accurate." Scott smirked over at his fellow Mutant.

"Of course I'm special. That's why Jean likes me better." Logan grinned back cheekily, mainly to annoy him.

"You, leave my wife out of this!"

"As I was saying!" Charles barked.

They both shut up and looked back at him.

"Logan does not appear to have any memory of his life before the nineteen-sixties. We have no idea his history, or how long he's lived. Or where he even comes from."

"No heartbeat," Jimmy commented.

"That explains a few things," Scott retorted.

One brilliant steel claw rose with startling speed and a strangely distinctive snicking sound, from the centre of Logan's curled knuckles, flashing over his right hand.

Jimmy gasped, before a few of the things he had read came hurtling back to him. "He's the one Neville helped escape!"

Everyone in the room paused; Scott and Logan staring at him, mouths agape, while the other two men just grinned.

"What?" Hickok shrugged. "I read! Okay? I read some of his reports, especially since Noah and I were helping Mal out at the time. There's no way to kill you." He smiled at Logan in admiration.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Scott grumbled. Behind his glasses he was rolling his eyes.

Logan sighed, the claw disappearing back from whence it came. "Enough about me. The more important thing is that your Hunter's right, Nico. Vampires can get through our defenses. They just haven't tried yet."

"You're assuming Magneto is using Vampires," Scott pointed out.

"Why wouldn't he?" Nicolaus asked simply.

"Maybe because doesn't know about them?" Scott looked over at Jimmy then at Logan, before staring back at the man sitting across from Charles. "Doesn't mean they're not working for him though. Right?"

"There is someone else influencing all of this." Charles spoke quietly but with force. "Stillson. Magneto. As good as they are, they're not that good. No. There's another in this. He's the one we need to prepare for."

"Who?" Logan demanded.

"Frankenstein," Nicolaus answered. "Victor Frankenstein."


~ Outer School Grounds ~


Noah sat on the grass and watched in fascination as a few of the kids ran around the lawn.

They were all laughing and having fun, doing what kids all over the world did at every available opportunity.

They played.

Each and everyone one of them had no worries about being laughed at or stared at, as they used their special skills, and showed off their Mutations without shame.

When Nico had first explained Mutants to them, Noah had taken some time to hunt down Bruce Banner and ask as many questions as he could. Banner himself wasn't a Mutant but he had seen a few while in the detention cells, and knew more than the Clan Scientists about some of what was really happening to them.

While everyone else had been so focused on saving Speed, Noah had tried to find Remy LeBeau. But Mr. New Orleans was nowhere around. At least for him.

He had the feeling though, that if Nick called, Remy would saunter around the corner like he'd just been there all that time, waiting for his cue.

Noah glanced over his shoulder, and leaned slightly to check the side of the building.

Just in case.

"Looking for something?"

Noah turned back around and gazed upwards for what felt like a very long way, fully appreciating the tall, lithe, exceptionally beautiful black woman who'd materialized in front of him.

"Ever have one of those moments," he swallowed, "when you think of someone and they end up standing right there?"

"Were you think of me?" she asked, gracing him with a small yet generous smile.

"More like a tall dude with long dark hair and a thick Nawlin's accent," he answered.

"Remy?" She sat down next to him, and then took a moment to look behind, her leaning slightly like he had.

Noah chuckled. "He has that way about him."

"Yes, he does." She held out her hand. "I'm Storm."

"Noah." With a flourish, he pressed her fingers to his lips. "I saw you teaching earlier."

"History, Culture, Sociology. It's all very stimulating some times. But I saw you as well, checking our security."

"I'm one of Nico's Hunters. It's what we do."

"We?" Storm smiled sweetly, and Noah realized he was blushing a little bit.

When he looked up to see Jimmy heading their way, he nearly choked on his words. "Me and my Mate." He flailed at the Hunter who was coming at them. "James Hickok."

"You must be Storm?" Jimmy asked, glaring down at them.

He could feel the tension from his Mate, who clearly knew full well what his moment with the pretty girl had to have looked like to other people.

He would make Noah pay later, but there was too many security leaks that needed to be fix first.

She leapt smoothly to her feet, instantly defensive. "Who are you two again?"

There was something in the air.

She could feel it on her skin.

Noah also stood up, and Jimmy held out his hands, trying to show that they meant no harm, and were absolutely not a threat, but he could see what Scott had meant earlier when he'd said that Mutants could and would defend themselves. Vampires on the other hand, were certainly still unknown commodities to them.

"Charles said to ask if you would please show us the security rooms, and weapons area," he said quietly. "We'd surely appreciate it ma'am."

Noah looked around as the sky suddenly grew gray and cloudy incredibly fast, and the kids all stopped playing, looking instead at their teacher. Some had worry on their faces, while others watched and waited to see what she would do, taking their cues exclusively from her.

That was when he realized the weather was reflecting her emotions.

"They're good, Storm." She turned away only when Scott walked toward them. "I'll explain more later. But it's okay. It's all okay. And it's time for the kids to get back to school work, right?"

He was answered by a chorus of whines and moans.

The sky cleared as the tension lessened.

"Okay, everybody back inside!" She clapped her hands and shooed the kids to the door.

A few ran, one flew, and another just disappeared only to reappear in the hallway.

"That takes a bit to get used to," Noah commented, shaking his head.

"Wait 'till you meet Logan." Jimmy grinned wickedly.


***


Tony had walked quietly next to his Sire as they'd made their way to their rooms.

Jethro was a few steps ahead of them, taking position as guard for both Vampires.

Nicolaus had encouraged them to take a little down time, and just relax for a couple of hours. He promised to explain everything, later that evening, while they had dinner with Grandpa.

Grandpa?

Really, Tony wasn't going to get used to that in a hurry.

"I'm holding you to that. You have witnesses," he muttered.

"Regroup with your Mate, my Elena." Nico smiled at his boy. "It's been a rough time on all of us."

"I want details, explanations, and power point presentations." Tony pointed a finger at him sternly, before pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I'll make Warrick do the charade version later." Nicolaus held him close, then let him go before he got a little too emotional.

Warrick had just eyed him suspiciously as he approached. "Charades? Really? You are so not allowed to hang out with Guin anymore."

Tony chuckled as the two of them bickered softly, only to roll his eyes when the door to their room closed, and there was a distinct thud up against it. Part of him wondered who did the pouncing. The other part still got weirded out over the thought of his parents having sex.

The moment their own door closed, Jethro had Tony laid out on the bed, his shirt open, and his mouth attached to one of his already hard nipples. They were keyed up, and it didn't take them long to shuck off their clothes.

There was little foreplay.

Jethro pushed two fingers into his Mate, stretching him open, searching for that one spot.

The moment he rubbed against, Tony keened with pained pleasure.

He looked at his Mate and saw nothing but need, want, lust and love.

Jethro didn't make either of them wait long.

He slicked himself up, and in one hard thrust, seated himself fully inside his Mate.

Tony wrapped his long legs around his waist pulling him closer, and they stilled for a single moment, eyes locked on each other.

With a saucy grin, Jethro pulled out until only the head of his cock was at Tony's entrance.

He stilled again, reigning in every speck of control he had. He loved pushing his Mate, seeing what Tony would do when he was teased, pushed to the edge, and then shoved over.

He wasn't disappointed.

Tony growled, and in a move that still caught Jethro by surprise after being together for a few years, he had his Mate on his back, his arms pinned down over his head.

Tony let go of his Mate's hands, leaned back, and took a firm hold of Jethro's smoothly slick cock. With deliberate, almost casual ease, he slowly sunk down onto it, watching the light gleam in Jethro's eyes, and his fangs appear. It was sweaty and intense, and utterly perfect.

Gripping Tony's hips tightly enough to leave some considerable bruises as a reminder of the moment, Jethro growled in pleasure.

Tony grinned, and sighed with each move. He was hard and leaking, and it would only take a simple touch from his Mate to have him come all over that strongly defined chest.

He could feel the Bond between them; feel it call to him, a deeply rooted ache in his Soul. Tony leaned forward, drawing his fangs across his Mate's exposed neck.

Jethro gasped.

He bit down.

Blood flowed into his mouth.

The Bond flared, embracing them both.

He relished the feel of being so close to his love, never wanting to know what it might be like to lose it, to lose Jethro. He couldn't imagine how Horatio and Speed had gotten through it. But he never wanted to find out for himself.

He woke up to Jethro cleaning the both of them up, and maneuvering them under the covers.

"Pushy," he muttered, as he wiggled until he was comfortable beneath the blanket.

"Well, if you hadn't passed out…" Jethro teased. "God, you're so beautiful when you ride me like that."

"I got skills." Tony grinned, pulling him close, kissing him softly. "By the way, not that I'm complaining, but where did the lube come from?"

"Our bags." Jethro settled down next to him.

"How did our bags get here?" Tony couldn't even remember packing anything, let alone getting them to the SUV and then into their rooms at the school.

"From Horatio's famous bag fairy." Jethro rolled his eyes. "I packed them when Nico said we were heading out here to see Charles. And Jimmy made sure they weren't left behind."

"So Jimmy is the bag fairy?" Tony snorted.

"I'm telling him you said that."


~ Charles Xavier's Office ~


"Your Hunters are well trained, and very loyal." Charles picked up his tea and sipped it carefully.

"Jimmy and Noah have been with me in some very sensitive situations," Nicolaus replied easily. "Van Helsing has mentioned the possibility of moving Jimmy up to Lead Hunter."

"And what does he plan on doing?" he asked curiously.

"Retire." Nico set his cup down on the side table. "After Balthazar is dead."

"Old enemies never die, they simply fade from our remembering."

"Or they're reborn, just to annoy the shit out of us." Nico grinned back at Charles who arched an eyebrow at his using a cuss word. "I would like to bring in a few of our Hunters, along with the scientists you suggest and the other Clan Leaders. Now we've sent Logan out to Hunt down Dexter's trail, it leaves you a man short for protection. Before you argue, I know your kids can hold their own, but Rogues and Mercenaries can be too much for anyone to handle all at once. And if it comes to that…"

He let the threat hang there between them for a moment.

"I was going to ask if Dr. Neville could mind coming to the school. I'm sure he and Jean would get along famously. Dr. Banner is also welcome of course, and I would like to talk with the young man some more about this situation of his," he responded.

"He's not actually a Mutant," Nico informed him, much to his Father's obvious surprise, as there wasn't much that really shook him. "It was gamma radiation that altered his DNA, causing a mutation to his cells, stimulated by aggression. I'm sure he won't mind me telling you, that it was Obediah Stane who utter manipulated his research and used him a guinea pig for the entire thing. He was trying to create a 'super soldier' while Banner was aiming for a 'super cure' for cancer."

"With Frankenstein behind all of this, I admit I'm afraid of what may come from it," Charles admitted candidly. "I have already counseled Bobby Drake, the boy being used on the media's Mutant footage. He's been particularly distraught over it, and his parents have threatened to sue for breach of confidentiality."

Nicolaus was hardly surprised. "Harvey's on it?"

"Most certainly. He's such a nice young man."

It was all Sylum's Clan Leader could do, not to actually snort at that one.

"Stillson will not become President," Nico assured him. "If I have to send out someone to remove him from the equation, then I shall."

"It hardly matters to our situation if he does take the White House. He's already exposed Mutants to the world, and as you know, humans lash out at all those things they do not understand." He rested his hands in his lap. "Fear. It strikes us all."

He had dealt with frightened, confused and distraught parents, almost on a weekly basis once the school opened. Some just abandoned their child on his doorstep, too freaked out over what their offspring had become to even begin dealing with it. And some would simply never understand, no matter how much he advised, educated, or instructed them in the raising of their son or daughter. With Stillson having so cleverly manipulated the media, rampant fear had taken the place of decent compassion. "In time," or so he reasoned, "it might eventually prove possible for the human race to learn that Mutations are simply a natural process on the Evolutionary ladder. It makes us no more superior to them, than they are to us. But then again, humans have a tendency to hide away in their beliefs and lurk behind the veil of faith. Fifty years have passed since the Civil Rights Movement, and there are still lynchings." He sighed. "This could do exactly what Magneto has always wanted."

"Start a war with the humans." Nico had already reached that conclusion. He stood up and made his way to his Father, kneeling down in front of him, one hand on his knees. "I will do all in my power to make sure that these things do not happen."

"You are good my son," he replied cupping Nico's cheek, "but not that good. Stillson has already spread the word."

"And many times, the world has screamed in fear of that which it cannot explain. The Supernatural. Vampires. Werewolves. Yet the masses do not believe fully, or even know we walk among them." Nico grinned as he stood back up. "You take care of your students, Papa. I'll take care of everything else."

Charles looked squarely at the man, and saw without hesitation the Roman General whom he had raised so many centuries before. "While you bring your War Council to us, make sure to include all of your family. I should hate for any to be vulnerable."

"Of course." He nodded as he pulled out his cell phone to start calling in the local Clan Leaders, and he couldn't help but wonder if such was how Imenand had felt when he called everyone together to rescue him from Egypt two years back. "Of the kids, Sam Winchester is the only other one likely to show up. Abby is pig-tails deep in cases, and heading to court. Greg is doing that DNA study in France."

"Nicolaus…"

The tone Charles used, was matched only by the expression on his face, and Nico knew full well what he was implying in that slightly amused and yet slightly reproving way he had. But like he'd told Tony on the drive in, you simply couldn't hide anything from Professor Xavier.


~ Tracy Island ~


Tony lifted off the runway and swooped down toward the beach.

He still had a few bullets left in his arsenal, and he planned on using them before demonstrating just what else he kept, quite literally, up his sleeve.

Hovering slightly, his targeting system having already located optimal points in his immediate field of fire, he let fly, taking out two of the assault craft with little effort, effectively removing at least a small segment of the troops flooding onto Tracy Island.

He shifted slightly, watching Stane, watch him.

"Get out of there, sir." Jarvis was both demanding and uncompromising.

Tony heard him.

Zipping back up into one of the hangar bays that had been dug high into the side of the volcano for weather balloons and atmospheric monitoring equipment, he landed at a run, quickly flipping up his face plate.

Alarms were still ringing, vibrating even through his armor.

The Tracy family had spent years on their island, making sure security was as tight as possible. And that had been before Scott brought him home as his Mate.

"Shut down in progress, sir," Jarvis reported. "All civilian personnel secured."

Tony stalked to one of the terminals, pulling up feed from both internal and external security cameras.

Rogues were moving all over the island.

"How the hell did they even find this place to start with?" he demanded.

In developing the top secret 'Thunderbird' satellite series, John Tracy had quite effectively removed Tracy Island from the face of the planet so no one could even see it, let alone ask what it was.

No one.

Anywhere.

"Running internal security checks. GeoComms shows no immediate systems breach," Jarvis responded. "Further assessment may be required. Thunderbird Satellite Sequence fully operational."

"Then we'll get back to that. How many of these sons of bitches are we looking at?" he asked.

"Two dozen Rogues, sir. Not including Mister Stane."

They were spreading out. There were too many Rogues in too many areas, and too many targets to focus on all at once.

"Make sure Jeff and Scott are getting this feed."

"Of course, sir."

"Stane's coming for me. So let's lead him a little dance out of here, shall we?"

"What do you have in mind, sir?"

Tony was just about to answer that, when he realized there were Rogues heading for Pepper's location, in the office suite one floor up from that main lab, that he used for liaising with Stark Industries HQ back in Long Beach.

"Seal Pepper's office."

"Yes, sir."

She had a gun in her hand.

Good girl.

"Area compromised."

Jarvis was altogether too emotionless for that kind of commentary.

"Tell her I'm on my way."

The Rogues were distraction.

He knew it.

Stane knew that he knew it.

There was one thing Stane wanted.

And he wasn't about to get it.

Not again.

After Tony had taken back Stark Industries and regained his Father's legacy, Stane had tried to start his own business to run against him, but he couldn't truly compete against Tony's genius no matter how well constructed and cleverly thought out their 'generic' versions of his technology were. Although he figured he wouldn't have minded meeting their real Director of New Development. The one they trawled out for the media was way too stupid for that particular job.

Rumor had it, the dude was a recluse.

Living in a cave some place.

Which was just way too ironic, all things considered.

Stane however, would inevitably try and do as much damage as he could, to cover up the simple fact that he was stealing as much of Tony's work as he could possibly lay his hands on.

Including the Chest Piece, that had been considerably improved upon since the last attack. "Jarvis! Protect the lab at all costs. Use extreme measures if necessary."

"What are you going to do, sir?" he asked.

"Dust Rogues, kick ass. All the usual stuff." He flipped his faceplate down and stalked into the adjoining bay.

But first he had to reload.


***


The moment Tony had flown off, Dean had turned Scott and those others waiting on the runway.

"Get back inside. We'll hold as many as we can."

"I'm here to protect Mr. Stark…" Happy pulled his own gun, intent on moving to the beach to back his employer.

Dean looked at Pepper then back at him. "Protect her first. We'll protect Stark."

Happy thought about that for a split second, but nodded, grabbed Pepper's hand and pulled her into the volcano through the same doors they'd used earlier, chasing at Scott's heels as they vanished.

Dean eyed the approaching Rogues coming fast up the beach and across the coral. All good attackers secured the airfield first, right?

His grin turned to a wicked smirk.

"You have no weapons, Hunter," one mouthed off at him.

"Sammy?"

Dean held out his hand without needing to look, and a heartbeat later, he felt the smooth handle of his favorite sawn-off shotgun, fall effortlessly into his palm.

He pulled it up, and aiming almost casually, then fired straight at the head of the Rogue who had yelled at him.

It came clean off, and a pattering of dust fell to the runway.

The others Rogues all paused in mid-stride.

Dean pulled the empty shells, putting two more into his gun and flipping it shut with ease.

Next to him, Sammy stood holding a sword, loosely in his hand, having slid it from under his coat. He glanced at Dean and asked conversationally, "Which one do you want next?"

"The moron on the left." Dean smirked as the remaining Rogues fled the area, leaving the moron on the left standing there all alone. "Sammy, make sure the civilians are safe. I've got this one."

Sam hated leaving his brother, but he knew Dean could easily take care of himself. He was the badass in the family after all, and he liked to make sure everyone knew that.

Dean grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him close giving him a quick kiss before pulling back with a grin. "Don't get yourself shot, princess."

"Fuck off, Dean." Sam laughed as he turned and headed into the volcano.

The sound of Dean's shotgun going off, seemed to indicate the moron on the left had just bitten the dust. His brother had always loved weapons, and despite the two of them having been exceedingly well trained over the past two years in the art of using a sword, he still preferred his trusty shotgun. Working with Artemus, he'd developed a way to load the shells with sharp shredded metal fragments, so when fired at full velocity, and aimed directly at a Rogue's neck, it would slice clean through.

Effective decapitation.

Dean Winchester style.

Sam let thoughts of his brother fade into the background as he focused all his attention on the Hunt.

Pausing for a moment, letting the skills his father taught him be enhanced by his Vampire senses, he located several targets easily enough, and with a small grin on his face, took off down the corridor, following their trail.

Turning a corridor, finding his prey, he discovered four Rogues and what he guessed to be a Mutant.

Well at least that proved beyond doubt that they were working together.

"Hey! Assholes!!" he cried, knowing there was no time for polite conversation.

They all turned around to face the threat coming at them, only for the first to get beheaded from behind. Another rushed at Sam in a frenzy, but he easily avoided such a clumsy attack, and brought his sword around in a smoothly practiced arc.

Before the dust had even settled, he was moving in on the remainder, who at least put up more of a decent fight, but Sam was just getting warmed up when he realized something was wrong.

Pulling back a little he stared at the two Vampires who were really doing nothing that desperately aggressive. One was fair haired, tall and slim, with keen blue eyes. The other had red hair, and was built much stockier, with square shoulders and bright green eyes that were both shrewd and calculating.

When Sam stopped moving, so did they, taking a step back and away, moving off from the struggle, hands raised.

Sam had no idea who they were, but they weren't working against him, which was a start.

That just left the Mutant.

He wasn't sure what his Clan's official policy was going to be on dealing with Mutants.

As far as he was concerned they were a threat to those he was sent to protect, thereby leaving them open to being killed, but they weren't Vampires, and the oath he swore to Nico was not to kill human beings.

Which lead straight back to the question that was currently running rampant through every media outlet in America.

Are Mutants human?



"You can surrender, or you can die." Sam held his sword defensively, one eye still watching out for the other Vampires. "It's that simple."

"I know your rules, Vampire," the Mutant snarled. "You can't kill me."

"Why not?" one of the two who'd backed off from him, asked critically. "You attacked our home. It doesn't matter if you're Human, Vampire, Mutant or Martian, in the eyes of the law. We were defending our lives and our family against intruders."

The Mutant frowned slightly, its golden eyes narrowing. "Then I call upon Clan Law, and demand to be brought in front of the Council."

Sam chuckled darkly. "You're not a Vampire. Our laws do not protect you in that way."

"Then it doesn't matter if you kill me. The damage is already done. Everyone knows we exist." He laughed just as he threw himself forward.

Sam took a half step back, pulled a small dagger out from his belt, and threw it with powerful accuracy.

The Mutant fell to its knees, snarling in its death throes as it hit the floor.

The two Vampires looked up at the Sam.

"Y'know, it's so much easier to clean up the mess after killing Vampires," the redhead commented flatly.

Sam pulled his dagger from the Mutant's back, using the dead creature's jacket to clean his knife before putting it back in its sheath.

He rolled the body over, sighing at the loss of life.

The Mutation was obvious, and had to be difficult to live with; green scales and yellow eyes simply made it impossible to live openly in society.

"How many more lives have to be wasted 'cause we can't accept what's different?" Sam asked, as he stood up, still wary of the others so close at hand.

"Maybe the question is, how many have already been wasted?" The redhead held out his hand. "Virgil Tracy. And this is my Mate, John Tracy. It's good to have you here."

Sam took the offered gesture of friendship. "How many of you Tracy's are there?"

"Five," John answered, watching Sam intently. "All boys. You don't seem surprised that he's my brother."

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. "Might be slightly hypocritical of me, as my own Mate is my brother. Speaking of… I suggest we find out what's going on with the rest of this mess."

Virgil nodded firmly. "We were coming down to securing the jet when we got swarmed. There were too many. The others went further into the mountain and left us here. We were just figuring our best way to fight them off when you arrived. Thank you."

Sam grinned. "My pleasure. I think."

"Jarvis?" John asked.

"Yes, sir?" he responded quickly.

"When the security lockdown is lifted, make sure that our guest here is taken care of."

Virgil looked down at the body, poking it with a toe. "Where's everyone else right now?"

"There are Rogues in bay three. The Colonel is holding them off. Mr. Stane is heading for Mr. Stark's laboratory. I have got it locked and sealed. There is no way for him to get inside, sirs," Jarvis informed them.

"Go help your big brother," Sam urged.

Virgil looked at John. "You get to the jet." Sam eyed him, but he continued in explanation, "It's our escape route if this goes to hell. I'll go help Scott."

"Okay." Sam could see the logic in that. "I'm heading for Stark's lab." He paused. "Erm, which way do I…?"

"Allow me to guide you, sir." Jarvis very obligingly flashed the lights down at the far end of the gray steel corridor.

Sam rolled his eyes and gave the two brothers a nod before running off.

He just hoped Dean wasn't doing anything stupid.


~ Tony's Lab ~


It didn't take long for to reach his objective.

His primary goal was to re-obtain the miniaturized arc reactor that Tony used to power his armor. The clean, raw energy stored in that one little device alone, would be sufficient fund his company for decades, as well as give Frankenstein something he could play with now and then.

Like a very expensive, shiny cat toy.

But if he couldn't get the one that was most likely in Tony's chest that moment, he'd be happy with the design schematics, spare parts, an older model. It would all suffice.

Peering through the glass panels that formed the front wall, he soon spied the jumbled chaos that was typical for Tony Stark.

There were work tables covered with projects old and new, boards and screens displaying equations, figures, scribblings, finance, budgets, reminders and to-do lists; and it even looked like Butterfingers had made it out to Tracy Island.

He pulled on the door handle, not shocked to find it locked.

Looking for a control unit, it was somewhat surprising not to find on one either side of the door, or anywhere in the immediate vicinity, despite tapping around seeking hidden panels and sunken release mechanisms.

Stane shrugged, sometimes violence was the only answer.

Pulling his gun, he shot at the door, the bullet's ricocheting away. One barely missed him by a half inch.

He growled, kicked at the door handle instead, putting all of his Vampire strength behind it.

"As amusing as it is to watch, your efforts are in vain." A disembodied voice addressed him from the speakers in the ceiling.

"Well if it isn't the cute little computer that Tony's Dad had to make for him when he had no friends." Stane stepped back apace, still trying to figure out how to get inside. How hard could it possibly be? They had already broken through Tracy Island's security system, like it wasn't even there.

Of course, having information from the inside had helped considerably with that.

Jarvis though, was a whole different problem.

"And if it isn't the backstabbing, murdering bastard," Jarvis replied, with deliberate menace.

That actually got Obediah's attention. "What the hell…?"

Glorified interactive computer programs were definitely not meant to offer back chat.

"You are currently in an unauthorized area." Jarvis started filling the lab with an anesthetic gas that would numb even a Vampire into a dozy stupor. "So I suggest you take your looting pirates someplace else." Jarvis slammed down a third layer of security over the lab, slamming metal walls down behind the doors, that extended the full perimeter of the considerably sized room.

Stane growled in anger, but he wasn't about to waste any more of his time. He knew there was no way he'd be getting inside short of a thermonuclear detonation, but that didn't mean the trip had to be a complete waste. The complex was filled with other laboratories, hosting a wide assortment of government projects, Stark Industry designs, GeoComms technology that was already highly sought after on the open market as well as the black, and probably some of Jeff Tracy's little pet concepts too.

As he turned the first corner, heading back the way he'd come, his frown turned to a truly delighted smile when he saw who he'd run into.

He couldn't have planned it better himself.

"Good day to you Ms. Potts! What a surprise seeing you here."

Pepper stopped dead in her tracks, jerking back on Jeff's arm. They were both carrying semiautomatics, though she kept hers hidden.

"Don't come any closer Stane," she threatened, having already thought it a bad idea when Jeff came and snatched her out of her office.

She'd felt safe there. But the door locks had failed when the security system was compromised, and Jarvis had urged her to move even as Jeff tugged on her sleeve. Running away was always a viable option, but she hated it, especially when it meant not knowing where either Tony or Happy were located, and not knowing whether they could in turn reach her.

"That's not going to stop me, old man." Stane moved toward Jeff, amazed that the people before him were still so very human, when they were so thoroughly surrounded by Vampires.

His revenge on Tony, would come through spilling their blood.

And it would just have to be bad luck on them.

"Maybe not. But I will!" Tony called out from behind him.

His heavy, metallic tread had been easily overpowered by the alarms that were still irritatingly loud, and so the sneak approach had been remarkably easy.

Stane turned to face him, arms open wide in a cheerful greeting. "You never call. You never write. One would think you just don't like me anymore. Did I not raise you, boy?"

"Leave." Tony stated his request simply enough. "Or I will kill you."

Obediah shook his head sadly. "I made you. Everything you have is because of me. And this is how you repay me?"

"My father built Stark Industries," Tony growled back. "And you killed him for it."

Stane chuckled, like a man with more than one secret in his arsenal. "You just won't die will you," he sneered, stepping closer the Iron Man rooted firmly in the corridor.

"What can I say? I'm stubborn that way," Stark smirked back, glad he had a considerable face plate shielding his true expression.

It was a little childish to blow silent raspberries after all.

"Still, it's a sad fact of life that somebody has to die. So I take from you. Like you took from me!" Stane snarled, as he pulled his gun up and shot Jeff in the chest without so much as a blink.

Even as the head of the Tracy family crumpled with a shocked sigh and a wheezing gasp, Stane aimed at a horrified Pepper, pulling the trigger again without the slightest remorse.

"NO!" Tony screamed, barely registering that Pepper had fallen, as he threw himself at Stane and slammed him against the wall.

His reaction time had been too slow to see it coming.

He'd been so sure of himself.

So sure of Stane.

So sure that nothing bad would happen.

Stane wanted him.

He didn't want them.

Why kill them?

Why hadn't he stopped it faster?

He wrapped is armor enhanced fingers around Stane's fleshy neck, squeezing tighter and tighter, sensing the bones grind together.

But Stane never even fought back.

Instead he seemed to grin.

He actually seemed to smile.

In triumph.

Pulled a small device from his jacket pocket, he clicked it on.

Tony stumbled back, pain coursing through his body.

The heavy armor fell backward into the wall, as he lost control over his brain, the hideous noise frying his synapses and breaking into his thoughts, severing his interaction with the suit.

"Jar… Jar…" He tried talking with Jarvis, desperate to silence the noise. He had filters in the helmet that could so easily have blocked out every single goddamned sound on the planet, but he simply couldn't activate them, or get Jarvis to do it for him.

"Remember this?" Stane teased showing off the neural paralyzer with a cheeky little wave of his hand, even as he rubbed at his bruised and aching neck. "Still hurts like a bitch, doesn't it."

Tony glared up at him. "I will kill you," he hissed, forcing each agonizing word out of his mouth as though it were the last thing he might ever do in the world.

"You can try." Stane patted him on one metal cheek and promptly walked off, stepping over the bodies he left behind.


***


Dean slammed the head of a Mutant into the nearest wall, before throwing him over the balcony and into the bay area below.

He shot the second one without so much as a cursory glance, reloaded his Glocks, and slipped the weapons into the holsters strapped onto his lower back beneath his jacket.

Grabbing his fallen shotgun, he vaulted over the opposite railing onto the floor below, and turned to the entrance that led onto the small bay.

He had been following Stane, or at least trying to but each time he had gotten close, he had been distracted by Rogues and Mutants. So far he wasn't impressed with either. The Rogues were easily dusted and the Mutants were easily killed.

He had no idea what the Vampire rule was going to be for dealing with Mutants, but at that point, he totally didn't give a shit. They were trying to kill innocent people, and Dean wouldn't stand for it. Ever. Whoever, and whatever was doing the damage, had to go down.

End of story.

He soon spotted the son of a bitch he was looking for once more, emerging from one of the side labs, pocketing something that quite obviously didn't belong to him.

Dean approached him as he lingered, all hopes of a sneaky approach having apparently vanished the moment they spotted each other.

The Hunter paused.

Something was off.

His body tensed when he realized there were still more Rogues heading in his direction.

Not that he couldn't take them all on, but it wasn't going to be easy.

Fuck it!

Stane allowed himself a predatory smile, as he pulled up his walkie-talkie. "Have package, need help securing it."

Dean gripped the shotgun in his hand, bending to scoop up a fallen sword that had tumbled conveniently over the balcony rail during his last melee.

He looked at Stane, unblinking. "What the fuck are you playing at?"

Stane stepped closer, one pace at a time. "Balthazar would pay good money for your brother." He reached up, as Dean stepped back, only to run into a few of the Rogues who were leering at him. "But someone else is willing to pay way more for you."

He clicked on the neural paralyzer, sending Dean instantly to his knees.

The sword crashed to the ground, the clank of the metal hitting the concrete floors echoing around the bay.

The shotgun swiftly followed.

Dean bowed his head, every inch of his body screaming in pain.

He could hear Sammy shriek his name, and then the loud echo of from further inside the mountain.

His every nerve was on fire.

Excruciating.

Inescapable.

It was dark.

He had no idea how long he'd been at the hands of his captor.

Hours felt like days.

Days felt like hours.

He blinked the pouring water out of his eyes, staring at cold, crystal blue eyes.

"What? Couldn't get enough of us Winchester boys?" he snarled, feeling his fangs lengthen.

It was the first thing they had done to him.

The first indignity of so many yet to come…

Torture was so much more fun, if the person you were tormenting couldn't actually die.

She grinned at him, laying the stun gun on his chest again, his screams of pain bouncing back to him over and over, around the barren room.

Dean blinked a few times.

Focusing on the pain, gave him control.

It told him he was still alive.

Even if he technically wasn't.

He took a few deep breaths, and slowly, gradually, stood back up.

His eyes flashed a deep, dark green, as his fangs dropped.

Three of the Rogues backed away slightly, not really sure how the Hunter even was on his own two feet again. They'd been given earplugs for the occasion, that shielded them from the device, but they sure as hell had felt it's effectiveness for themselves.

It was Stane's favorite way of ensuring discipline.

"That all you got fucker?" Dean growled, feeling something dangerously nasty, curl into his chest.

Before anyone else could react, he pulled his Glocks, and in a matter of mere seconds dropped every Rogue around him, until, and finally there was no one left aim for but Stane.

He leveled both guns.

"Balthazar did a hell of a lot worse, you fucking asshole."

"I'm impressed," Stane muttered, clicking the device, to silence it at last.

He hadn't expected the Hunter to stand against it, which gave him pause for thought, somewhat.

Frankenstein would be amused, and surprised by such knowledge, but Balthazar had apparently underestimated the Winchester brothers and their potential.

"Who the fuck sent you?" Dean demanded.

He really had no problem shooting Stane, then handing his ass over to Stark.

Stane tossed something at him, and he automatically dropped the gun in his right hand that he might catch it.

Glancing down at the strange object, he realized it was similar to the thing he'd seen in the center of the suit that Stark was wearing.

He looked up again.

But Stane was gone.


***


Scott Tracy leaned up against the wall, trying to take deep, calming breaths.

He'd heard gunshots fired sure enough, but the sound kept reverberating off the metal walls and down the corridors, making it difficult to distinguish where it was coming from.

Knowing Tony was relatively safe in the suit of armor that was joking referred to between them as 'The Iron Man Project', his only other thought was for his Father and brothers.

Having found two Rogues in one of the smaller labs, ransacking it for anything that was valuable, he dispatched them quickly enough, a small smile on his face as one of the wireless vacuum cleaners they'd installed a few years ago, emerged from its wall socket and started sweeping up the dust.

Swinging his sword, Scott left the room, stopping short a few moments later, when he found Happy lying by a door further down the corridor.

He knelt down next to Tony's bodyguard, who had taken one hell of a beating, and was bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to the chest. "Happy? Hey!"

"Mr. Stark?" he asked, his head falling back against the wall, his every breath increasingly labored.

"Jarvis?" Scott demanded.

"Mr. Stark is currently with Ms. Potts," Jarvis answered flatly.

There was something weird in the way it was spoken, but Scott had no time to deal with the puzzle that was Just Another Really Very Intelligent System.

He had to deal first with what lay right in front of him. "I can Turn you." He knelt down in front of the former boxer, trying to get a better look at the wound.

Happy blinked up at him.

They had never discussed the possibility of Turning either Happy or Pepper, or even his own Father for that matter.

But it seemed almost inevitable that they would be forced to talk about it, once their current situation was under control.

Happy nodded as his eyes closed.

He would not die, leaving Tony Stark without someone to watch his back.

It wasn't in his nature to just quit.

And he wasn't about to fail him again.

Once had been enough.

Scott took a deep breath as his fangs dropped.

He didn't hesitate in biting down…


***


His armor was the only reason he could get back up and move down the hallway, but still, every nerve ending Tony Stark possessed, lashed out at him in pain.

He gritted his teeth, and forced himself through it.

He was had to save at least one of the people in his life who gave a shit about him.

They were too few and far between as it was.

With a groan, he fell to his knees beside Pepper, pulling her into his arms.

She had loved him unconditionally from the moment they'd met, and he'd liberated her from the secretarial pool at Stark Industries. She'd stood up the Bitch Queen from Hell who'd been running it since his Father's time practically, and she'd bee prepared to get fired for the privilege.

Instead, he'd given her the job of a lifetime, and she'd run with it.

All the way.

She held her own whenever he was bouncing off the walls with energy and ideas, and she'd always been able to pull him out of his melancholy.

She was also brilliant.

That was why he'd made her his new CEO, and literally handed her his company.

Stane had no longer required his employment after all.

Tearing off the repulsor gloves that were getting in his way, he soothed her long, strawberry blonde hair back.

"I can't lose you," he murmured, raising the face plate. "Don't let me lose you."

She smiled up at him weakly.

The gunshot wound to her abdomen was pouring too much blood onto the floor for her to hold on any longer. "You just don't want," she whispered, "to train someone else."

"Who else would take such good care of me, Ms. Potts?" He looked down at her, not in the least bit ashamed to show her his tears. She'd seen every side of him over the years anyway. "Happy makes a filthy cup of coffee!"

She snorted, but it took almost all the effort she had left. "I'm honored, Mr. Stark." She reached up and cupped his cheek, wiping her thumb over his cheek even as her own tears fell silent and helpless.

He gripped her small hand in his, pulling her closer, letting instinct take over as his fangs extended, promising her he would have vengeance.

Or die trying.


***


And that was how Scott had finally found his Mate; sitting on a cold metal floor, Virginia Potts cradled tenderly in his arms.

Jeff Tracy lay at their feet.

Quite dead.

A bullet to the throat, having killed him in the time it took to fall to the floor.

Scott slumped back against the wall, too many emotions overwhelming him.

Both his own, and those that came through the Bond.

He was so relieved to see his Mate unharmed, yet so utterly devastated to find his father, gone.

And there was no military training in the world could deal with that moment.

"I'm sorry." Tony stared up at him. "I…"

Words seemed useless.

How was he meant to apologize for not having saved someone so vital to the future? So vital to his Mate?

Scott moved forward, dropping down on his knees in front of Tony.

He saw how peaceful Pepper seemed, and knew full well that he had done the right thing in Turning Happy.

There was simply no way in hell, his Mate could ever have handled losing the two most important people in his life, who had stood by him through everything.

Including death.

"It's not your fault." Scott cupped his cheek, mirroring Pepper's last gesture so perfectly. "This was all Stane." He didn't doubt it for second.

He couldn't afford to.

"He would never have come here if I'd stayed away," Tony pointed out.

"You don't know that!" Scott rebuked him. "Stane's company has been butting into dad's work for a long time…" He choked up, but held his composure. "Dad's projects. They were always threatening his ideas with cheap versions of their own."

Tony Stark loved his Mate for trying to take the fault from where it should rightly lie.

So many had suffered, because he alone was too naïve and self-absorbed to see what Obie had been doing all those years, and how his influence had abused and corrupted others.

All for power.

Greed.

Money.

He had himself, died in a cave in Afghanistan for it.

So had Yinsen.

Bleeding out on a bag of US Food Program rice, meant to help the starving.

All to save him.

To save him so others could die.

"Scott…" He had no idea why.

Why save him?

Why give him that gift?

So others could die?

"Now you will fucking well listen to me, Stark!" Scott leaned over and kissed him soundly. "All of this lies with Stane. No one else. You will not blame yourself for his crimes. He's a big boy. He knew what he was doing. And he will pay for it. That's why we keep going. That's why we're here."

"Mr. Stark?" Jarvis spoke them quietly, over the speakers. "Stane has left the island. I am please to report that his departure was accompanied by less than one third of the number who came with him. There has been no significant material damage to the facilities, and the civilian staff have not harmed. They remain in sealed security."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Tony glanced down at Pepper, knowing she'd kill him later when she woke up.

"Dad!" Virgil's cry rang down the hallway as he and John approached, their footfalls pounding in synchronized reverberation along the metal floor.

Scott turned to his brothers as they too fell to their knees, next to their Father.

"What happened?" Virgil demanded, checking him over though he knew it was in vain.

"Dad…!" John didn't want to accept it.

He just couldn't.

"Stane," Tony answered as he moved to stand up, lifting Pepper as he did so. "It was Stane." His eyes were firmly on Scott. "I could save Pepper, but Jeff was gone. Does someone want to tell me where Happy's at?"

Scott paused. "I found him protecting the Server Room. He was badly hurt. I had to Turn him."

Tony had never been so thankful for the Iron Man suit.

It was the only thing at the moment, keeping him standing.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He wanted to say so much more, but the words wouldn't come, and Scott laid a finger over his mouth to stop him anyway.

"Let's get him and Pepper into a quieter area, and let them recover. Then get you out of that suit, and find what damage has been done." Scott bent to hug his brothers, enveloping them both in his arms. "Take Dad down to the Medical Bay. Clean him up."

They were angry; their shoulders stiff from containing so much grief and rage.

But they were Tracys first and foremost.

They had a duty.

Virgil nodded.

He pulled his Father into his arms, and stood cradling him close to his chest.

As a Vampire he'd always known that one day he might outlive his Dad, unless they somehow managed to convince him that being Turned was a good thing that would allow him time to finish his work.

He'd just never expected to bury his father so soon.

And it hurt like hell.

"I'll call Alan and Gordon," John said quietly, before following his brother down the hall, willingly lifting that terrible burden from Scott's heart. "You take care of your Mate, along with Pepper and Happy. They're our family too."


~ New York ~


Nathan Petrelli shook his head, sickened by the feeding frenzy of so many reporters.

He glanced at his brother, who gave him a small shrug.

After Gregory Stillson had announced to the world 'the truth' about Mutants, they had endured nothing but demands for interviews and answers to highly speculative questions.

They were all highly speculative questions.

And as such, he'd refused point blank to answer any of them, hiding himself away in his penthouse instead.

His mother called a few times, demanding he do his job, and when she made a personal appearance, getting into his personal space, it had been one of the rare occasions when he politely told her to go fuck herself.

He'd spent a long time talking with his own lawyers at Pearson Hardman, trying to figure out how he might withdraw from the electoral race without getting his ass handed to him. It wasn't easy, but the truth of it was, he wanted nothing to do with Stillson any more, his mother, or games they were both so intent on playing.

He still needed to play along for a while though, in order to keep his daughter, Claire, safe from unwanted attention.

Specter had told him to keep up a good front, and he'd do the rest of the work where no one else was looking.

Not that Nathan didn't appreciate a sneaky bastard, as long as he was a genuinely sneaky bastard and not some tool of forces unknown.

So he stood on the sidelines of the latest press conference that Stillson was ready to give, playing the part for all the world, knowing that if it weren't for his brother, he would've lost his mind and started drinking again.

Gladly.

But Peter was the one who had contacted Charles, to keep updated on Claire's situation. He was also the one meeting with Specter, trying to figure out if they could get in to see Jed Bartlet. Still, there were just so many ways their entire situation could go down in flames from one moment to the next, that all they could do was face what stood in front of them.

Nathan sighed, but kept a neutral look on his face as Gregory Stillson stepped up to the platform.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten. He doubted he would've been able to keep it down.

Stillson smiled that caring, concerned, and oh so honest smile for the waiting reporters, then he waited a few moments, making sure they were all focused on him, before he raised his hand and quieted them down.

The entire room was thick with anticipation. It was as though Nathan could feel how hungry they all were, how rabid, how they waited with baited breath for the next shocking revelation.

"My Fellow Americans! In these past few days, we have learned so much more about these Mutants who threaten our safety. We have learned how they place Detention Centers in our remote, and innocently unsuspecting towns, where they torture and persecute their own kind, and experiment on Human Beings to make us all like them. One such place was utterly destroyed by one of their own. A Mutant, who when angry, has the strength and power to destroy absolutely everything around him, and anyone who gets in his path. Can you imagine the sheer terror those innocent townsfolk faced? What if that was your child's teacher? Or perhaps that co-worker who sits next to you all day? This creature could kill hundreds, if not thousands, and no one would be prepared for such an attack."

He paused with just enough emphasis to let the words sink in, even as his gaze swept the room.

Already hands were raising for questions.

"No, no! Katie, not yet!" He shook his head at the reporter from USA Today, offering her a coy yet affirmative little smile. "Let me finish. Please, all of you! I know this is shocking, but please, allow me to finish what must be said." He quieted the room with gently placating gestures. "The Bartlet Administration has done nothing about the Mutant threat. They have ignored it all, despite briefing after briefing from our Nation's top intelligence agencies, who themselves are alarmed by all of this, and right so! But even worse, the Barlet Administration has hidden it from you, from the American People! They have deceived the very people they work for! You, my dear friends. They have hidden this for years, from every single one of you. And yet even with the undeniable proof now placed squarely in front of them, they still deny it! They are putting our children in danger! They are risking the very fabric of our hard fought for society! Our normality! Our integrity! Our future!!"

He bit back the self-satisfied grin that was forming on his face, just in time to make it look like he was actually a deadly serious man, contemplating a deadly serious problem.

He had the room exactly where he wanted it.

In the palm of his hand, and licking his boots.

"But we don't need the President to make a groveling confession of his crimes before us." His voice softened as his body relaxed. Everyone's attention was utterly enraptured. "Why? Because we have what makes this country great. We are emboldened, to step forward into our future together by those few people who stand up and do what is right. Gen-Cris, a leading Pharmaceutical Company that is owned and run entirely by Patriotic American Citizens, has both found and successfully developed a cure for all mutations, however they may occur."

Stillson looked out past the reporters to the concerned parents, and families who had been bold enough to step forward and confess they shared the horrors of having both birthed and raised Mutant Offspring. They had been all over the newspapers, talk shows and political Internet sites, for days on end, and he made sure to hold their gazes, as he spoke the next few lines, empathizing with their pain, so everyone could see how very touched he was.

"Gen-Cris are offering this cure to the American People, entirely for free."

Murmurs rippled with lightning speed around the room.

He could see the tears in those brave parents' eyes.

Their children were safe. At last.

"I give to you now, solid proof that your children will be saved…"

Stillson stepped to the side as an image on the screen behind him came into focus.

Everyone watched with unblinking, undoubting belief, as a young scientist in the stereotypical lab coat of his chosen profession, complete with a 'Gen-Cris' corporate logo embroidered over his breast pocket, worked with a young child who lay sedated on a table.

The child, a boy of perhaps eight or nine years of age, had scales, yellow eyes, and feathers where there ought by rights, to have been hair.

Horrified gasps from those viewing such a sight, could clearly be heard amidst prayers that went up for the child and his parents.

Then in amazement, they watched as one simple injection to the Mutant's arm was carefully administered.

There was no drama. The kid didn't cry out, shake or make any kind of reaction whatsoever, yet in a matter of moments the scales disappeared, leaving beautiful smooth white skin in their place, the yellow eyes faded into a soft and shining blue, and curly blonde locks bounced around the child's forehead as he sat up, jumped from the table and ran to his grateful parents, hands reaching for them to hug him at last.

Stillson turned back to the crowd, wiping tears from his eyes. "It's beautiful. This child will now have a full, and happy life. Once the cure is administered, all mutation is destroyed, never to come back. And Gen-Cris is willing to make this miracle of our modern age, available to all Americans. No questions will be asked. No forms will be filled. No insurance will be needed. This is done for love. This is done for all our futures."

"How can they do this?" a reporter asked, her voice full awe of what she had just seen.

"By the strength and determination of this very special teenager." He turned once more to the screen, which flickered for a moment, then displayed footage of a teenage boy, wearing white sterile scrubs, sitting alone in a room. "This is live feed. His name is John Conner, and he is the cure."

John looked up as though he'd heard his name spoken, his eyes staring directly at the camera.

"John is so incredibly brave. In fact he is a true National Hero. He volunteered himself, so that Gen-Cris could test his DNA, and find out why his rejects all Mutation. It is because of him, that we now…"

"Faker!" John leapt to his feet, stalking toward the camera, screaming his head off with rage and resentment. "All of it. Fake! There is no Mutations! There is no threat! It's all bullshit and lies!! You're being fed LIES!!!!!"

The screen went black an instant later.


~ Washington DC: The White House ~


"Well that was interesting," Claudia Jean commented as she turned off the TV with a disgusted flick of her wrist.

She threw the remote on the coffee table and offered a smile at their guest, all the while attempting to assess how she was going to approach reporters she'd once respected for their ability to write on serious journalistic issues, when they'd actually turned to the crazy pack of drooling lunatics she'd been watching. It would probably have been hysterical, if it wasn't an election year.

Dr. Henry Philip McCoy, however, was no stranger to hysteria, for he too was most definitely a Mutant, and the soft blue fur that covered his body was just one of the man reasons why he'd grown up at Xavier's School for the Gifted, and gone on to become something of a 'diplomatic envoy' for Mutants, wherever questions about their appearance in society were raised by concerned people.

Known as 'Hank' to his friends, of whom there were many, given his easy charm, brilliant mind, and strikingly handsome features, he had come discreetly to the White House as liaison for Professor Xavier, who trusted him to deal cautiously and wisely with such matters; though none had seen the revelation of 'Mutant Children' displayed to the public before with such shockingly reckless abandon and disregard for either personal rights, societal safety or consequence for the future.

CJ glanced down at her ivory colored, Donna Karan suit, wondering how long it was going to take to get the blue fur off her clothes. Not that she minded all that much. She was as instantly attracted to the Doctor as he was to her, and though she liked to convince herself that she admired him for his mind, there was something about the tidy blue hair, the square jaw, the exceptionally strong arms, and the large yet gentle hands, that did things to her in a way no other man had ever quite managed before. She shifted in her chair, realizing she was blushing for seemingly no apparent reason, as the sound of his steady, deeply rumbling voice lulled her into a place that was really terribly unprofessional…

"John Conner was taken from his home in Miami, along with his mother. She is a Vampire, not a Mutant. Our research into the cause of genetic mutation has led us to believe that it is most likely the male line that actually creates the optimal conditions for offspring to be born such." McCoy looked at the President with sincerity and concern. "From what we know of John, he himself is a Mutant. As such, Mutation on any level can be widely varied. There are few of us who look the same, sound the same, or behave the same way. Our Mutations are enormously varied. John's is no more than the ability to block the effects of other Mutations but only when a Mutant is in his immediate vicinity. Think of it as perhaps like an 'aura'."

He looked perfectly at ease in the dark, hand-crafted suit and tie that he wore on such occasions, to shield others from the startling bulk of his size and shape, and to allow them a sense of ease when he was amongst them. Even his shoes were hand-made, and complimented his attire, while hiding the actual enormity of his muscular, almost gorilla-like feet. Though not human, he had no problem allowing humanity to be comfortable around him, even if it meant he had to dress like them from time to time.

"So there is a cure for this condition?" President Bartlet asked curiously, having had one too many long and elaborate conversations with his wife just lately on the nature of the human species and it's biology.

"Oh, in theory? Yes." Hank nodded to affirm his statement. "But we do not need to be cured. We do not have a medical condition. This is who we are."

"Do all Mutants accept their Mutation?" He leaned against the desk, taking off his glasses and rubbing his nose. He'd been sat down at the coffee table with people for more than an hour and needed very badly to stretch his aching legs. "If there is a cure available for those who don't want their Mutation, we can't take that option from them. This is a free country Doctor. Everyone has rights, even those we think we should fear."

Hank frowned but nodded. "Having a cure available gives scared parents a chance to 'fix' their offspring before they even have a chance to develop and accept their Mutations. These children will not be allowed any kind of 'right' to choose their future for themselves. Fear is an all too powerful motivator, Mr. President. Fearing Mutants will only keep them further underground for longer."

Jed nodded thoughtfully, then smiled at the Doctor. "Something tells me, we could debate philosophically for hours on the rights of Humans, Mutants, and Vampires. We all deserve them. You'll get no argument from me on any of that. But we have to ask whether society is ready, and sometimes I'm not entirely sure we've even reached puberty yet when it comes to dealing with certain things. And before we can consider the moral rights and wrongs of dealing with Mutants among us, we need to deal with the situation at hand. What do we do with Gregory Stillson?"

Hank chuckled. "I've always admired you Mr. President. One day I would love to sit and just talk philosophy and the rights of man."

"You're a man of great insight and intellect Doctor. You don't need me to reaffirm that for you, but you might get your wish sooner than you think if Stillson wins this election." Bartlet glanced past McCoy to where the rest of his senior staff were all sitting. Their collective groans were more than apparent. "What do we know? What do we need to know? And how do we use what just happened to our advantage?"

"That Mr. Conner screamed out about it all being fake, will plant a seed of doubt." Leo spoke up from next to McCoy. "The boy knows what's going on. Wherever he is, we have to get him out. There is the possibility his mother could already be dead. That would explain his outburst. As much as I'd like to ignore the whole Mutant situation, it's not going away any time soon. Not now."

"Can we find out where that live feed came from?" Josh asked.

He was still pretty new to the whole Vampire issue, so finding that Mutants were real too, had thrown his view of the world into quite the confused spiral, but he was rallying.

"Nicolaus has people working on that," Hank replied. "As do we."

"So what would you suggest, Dr. McCoy?" CJ asked. "Considering your own position and your unique perspective."

"I would like to see the world understand and accept Mutants." He smiled back at her most generously. "But I'm a realist, and know enough to accept that things which people can't explain or understand will always be cause for fear. My parents dealt with that fear every time they stepped outside their home. But they taught me to accept who I am and to remember that most people are afraid only at first. Once they get past that, they are mostly good, with fine intentions, and loving hearts."

"Sounds like you had a great family," Sam said quietly. "Wish more were like that."

"We are seeing first hand right now, at least on a small scale, just what our current society is capable of under such circumstance. To widen the horizon and realize there are more things in life than simply the concerns of humanity, is a vast step for the bigger majority to take. And sadly there may be no way to acknowledge the Mutant community, without the Vampire community also being pulled into the issue." Hank sighed. "It would be far too much for society to handle in one go. War, social upheaval…" He shook his head. "It would be inevitable."

"I agree," Toby muttered. "This is the one and only time you'll ever hear me say these words, but we can't tell the truth. Not on this. It would absolutely do more harm than good." Toby stared stoically over at Jed. "If we put you out there, telling the public that Mutants are real, there would be riots, lynchings… History has shown us more than once what we can do to fellow human beings when we feel threatened. We don't need to start an interspecies war."

Jed sighed heavily, thinking about all the things he'd felt, all the things he'd asked, all the things he'd questioned when he first learned about the Stargate Program, and was introduced to Maximus and Nicolaus.

His own horizons has been vastly expanded, but it had taken him a while to accept it all, even with his own not inconsiderable intellect.

Then having seen with his own two eyes, what had happened to Toby and Sam…

They were his family as much as his own daughters were, and he loved them as such. And he would never expose them to the kind of hatred and terror that Stillson was brewing up out there in the world.

Even with all of that running through his mind, he had to accept that there were moments when he too was still overwhelmed with the vastness of such concepts as the Vampires in his life could present him with – living for millennia, seeing all the history, learning all the ways of men, fighting all the wars. And if he, as President of the United States, a man with privileged information and access to Vampires, Mutants and even Aliens, had his doubts and fears, then what would the common man in the street think or feel about it all? Though he wanted very much to believe in the basic decency, courage and sincerity of the American people, how would they truly respond to discovering they were not alone in the world? Or even in the universe?

Could society carry such a weight? An individual might well be able to. But the whole of society? On a structural, educational, religious and spiritual level? Were the people ready?

And not just in the United States.

Only the most naïve political fool could ever imagine such a thing would impact solely upon America.

"We need to focus on other issues." Jed put his glasses back on and looked down at the files on his desk. "Toby? Sam? I want a speech covering the state of our Economy, Defense, Education, and all the normal debatable material we're actually geared up for in an election, not some Sci-fi movie script. CJ? I want to address the nation. As soon as possible. Do what you need to do. Answer real questions on real issues. Only that. Doctor McCoy? I know this problem that you and your fellow Mutants are facing is very real and very immediate. No insult is intended."

McCoy nodded. "I understand, Mr. President. Growing up with fur, you have go considerably further than that to get me riled. That this Office accepts our presence as Mutants, is a bigger leap forward in our struggle for recognition than even I might have hoped for. I speak for all of us, when I thank you most heartily for that."

Jed took his hand as he stood up. "I will do all in my power to support those who are working toward resolving this issue, but I cannot do it publicly."

"Of course, sir. That you would do it at all, is to your credit."

"Leo was right though. We have to get this John Conner to safety. Tell Nicolaus I expect to see that happen."

Hank nodded. "He already knows."

"Good! Then after we are done here, and Sam is writing my memoirs for me once I've retired, I would like to meet this Professor Xavier you speak of."

"I'm sure he would like to meet you as well, Mr. President." McCoy bowed his head in respect, reaching for his briefcase. "His is a vastly enlightened perspective. Now, I shall take my leave and let you work. If you should need anything else from me, you have my direct number. I will be here in a moment's notice if you desire it."

"Thank you for coming Dr. McCoy. I'll see you out. Your car is waiting." CJ walked Hank away through Leo's office, and out through a secluded back entrance, very much aware of the need for discretion.

"After your speech, we'll head to Camp David." Leo looked at the President, just daring him to argue. "We can formulate and regroup, plus it would be easier to get Nico to see you there, than here."

"When we started this adventure, did you expect Vampires, Aliens, and Mutants to be normal conversation?" Jed asked his lifelong friend.

"Of course I did, sir," Leo deadpanned.


~ Tracy Island ~


The moment Pepper had woken up she'd yelled at Tony for apologizing, and told him under no circumstance was he to feel guilty for anything that had happened.

He had given her that 'lost little boy' stare, and she'd promptly smacked him then cursed him in equal measure, since he was still wearing the suit of armor.

She had been in the process of shooing him out of the room, so she could clean herself up and find food; busy demanding someone fetch her some fresh clothes as there was work to be done and she didn't have time to lie around like a damsel in distress, when Happy had stormed into the guest room, demanding to see Mr. Stark and not taking 'no' for an answer.

Happy never took 'no' for an answer.

The two of them had looked at each other, totally ignoring him standing there, which was pretty impossible given the silver plating that covered his body and added a good two inches to height.

Their eyes were only on each other.

Tony watched them grow increasingly wide.

A small gasp came from Pepper's slightly pursed lips.

Happy growled.

Though there was still a considerable amount of blood on his bodyguard's shirt, suggesting he should really have been feeding, not running around the island, he was clearly not to be reasoned with at that point.

Not being an idiot, despite everything that people said about him in the press, Tony quickly scooted out of the way of the two new Mates.

And as he closed the door on them, he couldn't help the smile that lit his face.

They were a good match, and he was glad to see his two old friends and colleagues find the one thing that had actually brought him some peace too.

The Bond.

Happy and Pepper had worked together for years.

It wasn't hard to see them as a couple.

Which led to the kind of images that once upon a time he might've found really hot, but he didn't really want.

At least, not while he was still in the suit.

He stepped back into the sub-section of his lab, set just off to the right, and slightly below the main work area, letting Jarvis fully control the mechanical arms that would remove the complex joint work required to secure the armor to his body, and then lift away each section. It was a bit of a laborious process, though not as ridiculous as it once had been.

The suit itself had held up pretty good considering all the abuse it had taken in the past few hours, but it would need some serious repairs.

Or better, he mused, he could just start construction on a whole new suit.

One with better weapons and a new paint job, because silver was just too boring.

He showered, pausing to sense through the Bond with Scott, all that his Mate was enduring, and offering in his own very private way, all that he could in support, before slipping on some jeans and a t-shirt, and heading up to his main lab.

Jarvis reported the area free of gas and in good condition for habitation, and Tony was only too glad he'd separated its security system from the main lockdown mode that had been constructed for the rest of the island, and which had failed so very badly.

"I do believe that Mr. Stane himself input the correct code to override the system, sir," Jarvis reported. "One can only conclude that he was in collusion with someone here."

"A traitor," Tony mused.

"Precisely, sir."

With that troubling little fact still fresh in his mind, Tony stepped up into his private sanctum, and paused, frowning.

The oldest Winchester was at one of his smartboards, drawing.

Completely uninvited.

Tony stalked closer, astonished at finding himself presented with the basic geometric design for a new weapon that could fit the suit he was bringing to life.

"Okay, who the hell are you, kid? Really?"


***


Scott sat at his Father's desk and looked at the open file spread in front of him.

All the brothers had one.

The 'if something were to ever happen' file.

Jeff Tracy was a highly decorated military man, a 'full-bird' Colonel in the United States Air Force, a lunar astronaut, a pioneer of space flight, a civil and military engineer, and a man of considerable skill and deeply rooted courage.

He had walked on the moon, helped train Neil Armstrong, and recently constructed new design modules for the International Space Station and the AstroRobonaut Project.

Burial at Arlington National Cemetery came with his duty to God and Country.

And Jeff Tracy understood duty above all things.

John and Virgil both agreed that he should be buried next to their mother at the National Cemetery, in the plot already secured for them.

The Tracys were not naturally a sentimental family, though that didn't mean they were inclined to private demonstrations of affection, and as such, had planted a time capsule beneath the foundations of the first house construction on their island, keeping safe vacuum sealed locks of hair and mementoes that future generations should hold dear. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, if a little silly, but suddenly it had so much greater significance.

Scott swallowed, realizing his Father would indeed, never truly be far from him.

Sufficient calls had already been made to ensure he was on the phone for more than two hours straight. But everything was already in motion.

The staff had been informed. And they too were grieving.

There would be no investigation.

No cops. No questions. No painful demands for answers.

They lived on a private island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The only authority to be recognized in such a place, was purely their own.

John had made sure that Alan was safe and secure, and it had been a huge relief to discover he wasn't far away from either Sylum or Tallikut Clans, and was easily reachable by Hunters from either group, just in case Stane should decide to go after the rest of the Tracy family.

Gordon, being the youngest of them, was in a Boarding School in Geneva. One phone call to the Vampire Council had their Hunters checking everything out and making certain the place was quiet.

He hadn't taken the news well.

Not that any of them were taking the death of their father very well.

But Gordon had demanded he be allowed to come home and help them, and it had taken all of John's naturally calm attitude toward life, to soothe him down, and keep him in Geneva, where they could watch over him discreetly and ensure he was alright. Telling him the whole truth at that point, had been impossible. As far as he knew, it had been a heart attack. All very sudden. Nothing anyone could've done.

He was too young for the whole story.

But one day, his four older siblings agreed, they'd tell him everything.

Even the truth about Vampires.

John had explained that they would send a private plane for him when the funeral was set, and then he could come home for a while to mourn.

Until then, his school had a counselor on staff. And he was at least doing as he was told.

Virgil had stayed in the medical bay, taking care of their Dad's body. But then as the middle brother of the five, he had always been the one to take on the worst of every job…

Scott leaned back in his Father's chair, trying to get his emotions in check.

He could feel Tony, putting up the walls to their Bond just as he always had when things got too rough, but he had learned pretty early on in their relationship, just how to be a sly, sneaky son of a bitch, and had already snuck past them, sensing much needed comfort from his Mate, and too many acres of pain. That they could share even a single moment between them, was a blessing they each came in their own way to agree upon. But Tony had to be allowed space to focus on figuring out what Stane was truly after, and there were angry cries for vengeance resonating between the two of them, each Vampire wanting the bastard they once trusted, to suffer so very badly for what he'd done.

Scott was determined to be by his Mate's side every step of the way though, whether Tony liked it or not.

And the 'not' column of that equation was pretty strong sometimes.

Still, he reached out to him again, needing to sense him close by…

…and with a gasp he stood up fast, headed out to the lab at a run.

When his Mate was generally feeling that giddy, it meant something was about to explode.


***


Sam leaned against the railing and looked out over the ocean.

It was peaceful, and the air was fresh. And he really needed some time to just calm down.

He had been an unseen witness to Dean's confrontation with Obediah Stane, and a fear like no other still coursed through him as a result. The fact that Stane knew Dean would be at Tracy Island, and had set up a trap to take his brother…?

The implications weren't something he wanted to think about.

But the conclusion was all too obvious.

He scrabbled in his jacket pocket for his cell, and hit a familiar number.

'Hello? How's it going, Sam?'

He took a deep breath.

It helped.

"Nico, we have a situation."

'Scott has contacted me about his Father. It's a horrible loss.'

Sam wasn't all that shocked that Nicolaus already knew what was going on the island.

'He also mentioned that Pepper and Happy were both Turned.'

"Seems like they're Mates, so we're all kinda leaving them alone at the moment." Sam couldn't help the smile. The two of them were clearly meant for each other, and from the little he had seen of the small family surrounding Tony Stark, the guy didn't stand a chance against either of them, let alone if they were working together.

'Really? I'm glad! They're a good pair. It's always a blessing when something positive comes from tragedy. So what can I do for you, Sam? Are you alright? And Dean?'

"Stane." Sam reached out through the Bond to feel Dean concentrating on something.

His brother was flatly calm at that moment, though it felt more like he was severely distracted by something outside his more normal range of contemplation.

'What about him?'

"He set a trap for Dean. It wasn't the only reason he was here, but it was one of them," he said simply, trying to express himself clearly. "He stated that someone had paid good money for Dean."

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it in horror.

He knew some Latin, having studied Law, but he hadn't realized it could be used in quite that descriptive, and excessive a way.

'Get back here, now!' Nick's tone would allow for no hesitation.

"We'll be heading back in a few hours." Sam sighed, wondering what the hell was else was going on. "Do you have any idea who would want Dean? I mean, to want him that badly…?"

'Not yet. But we will. Have your plane land in upper New York. I'll send coordinates on where your heading to. The Impala will be waiting for you, with further instructions. Follow them. Strength and Honor.'

"Strength and Honor." Sam hung up the phone, slipping into his back pocket before he rubbed his hands over his face. He needed to get his thoughts in order, and that was no simple task.


***


"Sorry, dude. I'm still Dean Winchester. Didn't mean to mess up your boards or anything, but I saw this thing, and wanted to draw it out while I remembered. What you're doing with the suit thing is fascinating, but I would suggest a smaller caliber, at least to fit on your sleeve. This would fit in that kind of compact area and be less likely to jam or over heat like the ones in the shoulders that I saw."

Tony glanced over at the board, the fingers of his right hand tapping unconsciously the Chest Piece that was glowing under his shirt. "Where have you been all my life?" he purred.

"Huntin'," Dean answered, as from his inside jacket pocket he pulled the chunky object that Stane had tossed at him. "I think this belongs to you." He lobbed it at Stark, who caught it without even looking.

His eyes were too busy analyzing the weapons design that Dean had presented him with.

"Dude!" Dean waved a hand in front of his face to distract him. "You still with me?"

Tony finally blinked.

It was more than a bit unnerving.

He stared down in horror at what he suddenly realized he had in his hand. "Where the hell did you get this?" he demanded.

"Stane had it. Threw it at me as a distraction, before he ran off." Dean shrugged as he put down the stylus he'd been working. "We were able to get most of his men, but a few escaped with him. I have no idea if they got anything."

"Jarvis is checking into our systems and doing inventory to see if anything is missing." Tony carefully set down the Mark 1 Chest Piece that he had constructed in Afghanistan, wondering what ever happened to the nice little display stand that Pepper had once had made for it. After everything that had happened with it the first time around, he never even noticed it was missing. And though by all rights, he should've been worrying about where it had been, and who exactly had stolen it, he still found his eyes drifting back to Dean's drawings. "So you just doodle stuff?"

"I can see math as a picture." He shrugged. "Always could."

Tony grabbed a marker and moved a whiteboard that was set on a wall mounted railing.

He started writing out a complex calculation he had come up with while test flying the suit under extra weight.

And it wasn't long before Dean went to grab a second board, pulling it over next to the first. With another marker, he started to draw what the figures were showing him.

"Isn't it cute?" Sam whispered to Scott, as the two of them snuck into the room to watch their Mates.

"It's adorable, spying on geeks," Scott grinned, enjoying the sight of his Mate lost in the math, the science, the possibilities, the innovations. "Should we start setting up play dates?"

"His schedule is pretty full. He has some play dates coming up with Charlie." Sam pulled out a small black planner. "But he's free mid January…"

Dean flipped his brother off without turning round.

Tony ignored all of them as he worked.

But finally he stepped back, and grinned broadly. "I don't care what you're doing for Nico. You're working for me now."

Dean nearly dropped the marker he was trying to recap. "Dude! I'm just a high school dropout…"

"Bullshit!" Sam yelled, glaring at his Mate. "You are not going to stand there in front of me and brush off your abilities like they don't matter!!"

Dean's eyebrows went up as Sam stalked toward him. "I didn't even graduate…"

"'cause you took your GED, when you were sixteen, jerk!" Sam turned to address Stark. "Don't let him lie to you. He also got a perfect score on his SATs and got a full ride to MIT, but didn't take it 'cause of his undying loyalty bullshit to me and Dad." He looked back at his Mate. "Not that I thank him for all that he's done for me. But no more of that! You're a geek, Dean Winchester, so it's time to man up and admit it."

"Dude, your inner girl is coming out." Dean glared at his brother, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing at the compliment he'd just received.

Tony Stark looked at the older of the two boys. "Wait!" Light was dawning on his face. "You're Dean Winchester!?"

"Yeah," he responded. "I told you that like twice now. What?" He didn't like the look Tony was giving him.

It was way too predatory.

"You're the one who turned down the Stark Scholarship." Tony flailed at the memory of it. "No one's ever done that in…" He couldn't recall how many years it had been operating, but it had gone back to his Father's day before the Second World War. "…forever!" he snarked. "As far as I'm concerned, you are now property of Stark Industries. So you can tell whoever you work for that you quit. Or better yet, get Nicolaus on the phone, and I'll tell him that myself. Jarvis?"

"Online and ready, sir."

Dean stared open-mouthed at Sam, then looked back at Tony. "Dude, seriously? Have you met Samuel Gerard?"


~ Washington D.C. – The White House Press Briefing Room ~


Jed stared silently out at the reporters jammed like sardines, into the tiny room that was Claudia Jean's domain, and he was pretty sure he'd never seen that many forced in there.

There was probably some OSHA thing about that.

He should check.

He glanced over at Abbey, who gave him a small smile, then kissed him on the cheek. Her faith in him always kept him strong.

Leo handed him his speech.

"Any last minute advice?" Jed asked his Chief of Staff.

"Show them how the President of the United States is really supposed to act."

President Joshiah Bartlet stepped out of the left hand door, and up onto the small stage, moving straight to the podium that stood before a somber, dark blue curtain, with an oval decal of the White House silhouette on it. This was serious stuff.

And everyone knew it.

He set down the few pieces of heavy grain paper on which he had no doubt lay a well thought out and beautifully composed speech – stating plans to deal with the rising issues that stemmed from with the war he had inherited in Iraq and Afghanistan, Education Plans to make every classroom a hallowed hall of learning, Healthcare Ideals to ensure no one need ever be without Insurance of some kind, and all those other issues that his country had to face maturely, and deal with swiftly, that they might ensure their kids inherited a decent future.

He slid his hands into his pockets instead, and smiled off to one side before gazing out at the sea of reporters all eagerly waiting for him to confirm the 'Secret Mutant Threat' that they'd been printing for the last few days.

"There have been some interesting things on TV this past week," he quipped. "'Shark Week' always seems to bring the out the best and worst in people."

There were chuckles around the soundproofed room.

"This week we lost thirty-six soldiers to the war in Iraq and in Afghanistan. The Stock Market plummeted five hundred and thirteen points due to the housing market crash, and thousands of people are now homeless. Over a hundred teenage girls, throughout the length and breadth of this country have dropped out of school because of an unwanted pregnancy. No one can say how many will ever return. Four hundred and two people were laid off in Missouri, when the factory they worked in for decades was forced to close because their jobs were moved out to another country, for cheaper wages. And eighteen young men lost their lives in a coal mine fire, that is still burning."

Sam glanced over at Toby and sighed, "Why do we write these speeches if he never read them?"

"Those are just a few of the issues that we, the American people, need to think about and find ways to deal with. Those are just a few of the issues that this Administration does deal with on a daily basis, and will continue to deal with each and every day we are here. Those are the facts that we as a Nation, need to address. Facts. Not fiction. Every homeless shelter in this country can show you facts of life in some of it's worst and most desperate moments. Every school with a leaky roof and not enough books to go around, can show you the facts as they try to make education something every child should crave. Every immigrant who needs to be recognized as a human being, with the worth of a human being, can show you the facts of a broken system that needs to be fixed. Facts are hard. Facts are painful. Facts make us squirm and slap us in the face with the brutality of life, and make us want to hide behind fiction. But this is not fiction. This is the United States of America. And our Forefathers fought for us to have a future, a dream where all are equal, and all of us live freely to pursue whatever it is that make us happy."

Every eye in the room, was fixed on him.

No one breathed.

No one dared.

"I could stand here and give you a long drawn out speech, about all the things this Administration is doing to achieve that dream. I could fill you in on all the facts and figures, down to the last detail. But this isn't about me. And it's not about this Administration. This White House, is about the American people. So I want to hear from the American people. So ask me what the American people want to know. Ask me about the facts. And you'll get your answers."

"This can't be good." Sam shook his head, and discreetly poked his Mate in the ribs. "This is all your fault, y'know."

"Mine?" Toby glared back.

"You're the one always told him, right from the start, that it was better to never lie," Sam growled slightly.

CJ stepped out next to the President as a riot of noisy shouted questions, hit the podium like a bomb going off. She waved her hands for calm, even as the Park Police in the doorways all started looking decidedly nervous. "Alright! Let's keep this orderly! One at a time! One at a time!!" she bellowed, making sure to stare a few of the more instantly well known faces arrayed around her, straight in the eye. "Let's start with Thomas, from the Washington Post."

"What do you have to say about Republican Nominee Stillson's allegations?"

"I see we're going straight for the jugular," CJ snorted, giving him a pointed look.

Jed laid his hand on hers and gave her a small nod.

She just had to trust him.

"Which allegations are you referring to, Tom?"

"That you've lied to the American people! Repeatedly. For years."

"Actually, I've always made it my goal during this Presidency to tell the truth when asked a difficult question," he answered simply. Which effectively put to rest any and old comments about his MS and his first campaign. "Gregory Stillson has put on quite a show, but he has no facts to back his fiction."

"New York Times!" CJ pointed to one of the reporters in the back. "Maria!"

"So you're saying that Mutants do not exist?" she asked, wanting to be clear on the implication.

"I firmly believe we cannot ever fully understand the many and varied things that are on this Earth we all inhabit. As much as science has progressed by gigantic leaps and bounds over the past few centuries, there is so much more in this world that we as humans have yet to learn about. We must not neglect our Scientists. We must continue to fund them in their research and continue to push toward new innovation."

"So Mutants do exist?" she pushed the President with a follow up.

"The question you should've asked, is what exactly constitutes a Mutant? Cancer cells are a form of mutation. Birth defects and physical deformation can be seen a mutation. Hundreds of years ago, red hair was considered a mutation from the norm. So what exactly is a mutant?"

"Keith from Fox News." CJ cringed inwardly.

"Greg Stillson has proved beyond a shadow of doubt that these Mutants exist, and your Administration has done nothing to stop it." Keith James had a tone as condescending as some toadying sidekick from a 1950's melodrama. And if he sounded like he was permanently trying to pick a fight, it was usually because he was.

"Proved beyond a shadow of a doubt?" Jed asked. "Tell me Mr. James, have you met a Mutant?"

"No."

"Have you seen any of these Detention Centers?" The President's facial expression was utterly neutral, but all those watching their exchange, knew the poor sap from Fox didn't stand a chance.

"No."

"Have you been to a Gen-Cris laboratory? Talked to anyone at Gen-Cris? Done any investigative research on Gen-Cris?"

"No."

"So as a reporter you're going to utterly believe beyond a shadow of a doubt, that what one man said without anything for backup but a Hollywood style special effect, is the absolute truth? Without any evidence to support such claims? Without a single fact?" Jed looked around the room at the rest of the reporters all hanging again on his every word.

Then he dropped the real bombshell.

"Gen-Cris is in fact, a front company for Crimson International, an organization that sells 'vaccines' here in the US and around the world. They made a profit of three and a half billion dollars last year selling 'Swine Flu Vaccines' to a petrified world."

CJ looked over at the President and stared in awe.

Such moments were why she had followed him through the grind and sweat of their first Presidential Campaign, and four years of the hardest work she had ever done in her life.

"Candidate Stillson's biggest campaign contributor is Crimson International." He could've hit them all with a smug and self-satisfied grin, but he was so far above that kind of behavior in public, that it seemed instead like all he'd done, was deliver them the facts. "So Mr. James, you tell me? Who's been lying to the American People?"

CJ moved behind the podium as the President stepped down and headed out of the room. "This conference is over. Other questions will be table for a later time. President Bartlet must now return to dealing with other items mentioned on his public schedule."

She turned and followed the rest of the President's team out the door, ignoring the scream of questions being fired at them as they left.

Jed was silent for a while.

"That was old school, sir," CJ chided lightly.

"I learned it from a master of the old school. Always tell the truth eh, Toby? It's easier than trying to remember a lie."

The White House Communications Director snorted in amusement. "Yes, Mr. President."

"So where did you get the info on Gen-Cris?" Josh demanded.

"I have my sources. Good sources. All the necessary information should be in your inboxes as we speak." Jed walked past them, down the hallway, waving at them without turning around. "I'll be heading out to Camp David, so if anyone needs me…"

"Sir?" Leo scooted to catch up with him, slipped him a folded note, his shoulder firm against the President's as they walked.

Jed slipped his glasses on and looked down at the note then back up to Leo. "Is this legit?"

"I had it confirmed. It's coming from his lawyers at Pearson Hardman," Leo informed him.

"Nathan Petrelli wants to meet with me?" Jed asked out loud, just to confirm that he wasn't going insane in his old age.

"He wants a tell all," Leo smiled. "Just with you."


~ New Orleans: Sylum Manor ~


Dino held Elizabeth in his arms, rocking her back and forth as the conference call connected, and glancing up, realized his brother was still in a suit.

He wondered if there was anything else in H's closet but suits. He even contemplated checking said closet to find out, but decided not to provoke Speed's wrath by going into their private rooms.

Speed's wrath was not a good thing.

So instead, held up Elizabeth and waved her arm at her Daddy.

She smiled and called out to him, then frowned when he didn't come to her.

Dino held her up to the screen, and her little fingers tickled over the image of Horatio.

She frowned as she settled back against Dino.

Horatio ached to reach out and run his hand over his daughter's head. "I hate being away from them."

"They miss you too, but it seems we're pretty good stand ins." Dino bounced her slightly. "Must be the red hair." He glanced at the room he could just about see behind his brother, not recognizing where he was at. It wasn't the hospital. He'd talked with Horatio a few times since the incident with Speed, and had even been tempted to fly up and be by his side, but he knew Horatio would feel more comfortable with him taking care of the kids. "Where are you mate? Looks kinda dark."

"At the moment, it's a secure location," H informed him, knowing he wouldn't push. "How are my kids doing?"

"Lucas and Joe are fine…" Dino grinned. "Oh, you mean the other two year olds?" He smirked, holding up Elizabeth like a trophy. "Little Lizzie here was playing with her cars, until Torren tried to take away the Impala and she threw a fit. So she's having a time out. Sean is talking up a storm with Lucas."

Horatio sighed. They were so going to be handful when they got older.

All of them.

"Though let me tell you, they are starting to figure out how to escape from their jail cells," Dino warned him. "And I think they may start plotting with Torren…" Dino chuckled at the serious expression on his brother's face. "So while you contemplate better security in the Nursery, I've called because I've got good news."

"We could use some," Horatio said honestly.

"Henry's been found." Dino really couldn't keep the giant grin off his face any longer. Seeing his Mate's expression when he laid eyes on his son again, had actually gotten tears rolling down his own cheeks. "Seems Tony Stark of all people, found him wandering Afghanistan, and was able to get him to a Medjai Compound."

"Thank God for Tony Stark! I'm sure there are a dozen questions that need answering, but the most important thing is he's safe." Horatio sighed and nodded. "I'll make sure to let everyone else know. I wasn't kidding when I said we could use some."

"H, he's been Turned," Dino informed him. "But he's okay. Ish. He's safe and secure with Ardeth, so Terry packing to head out for Egypt as we speak. It'll all work out. Don't worry."

"Thank you for staying with the children. I know you probably wanted to go too." Horatio gave him a gently pointed glare. "He's your Mate. This is family. Don't argue with me now Dino, the kids have plenty of Uncles, Aunts, Bodyguards, trainers, co-conspirators…"

Dino chuckled. "H, I'm not going."

"Go! Speed will smack you himself if you don't. You'll smack you if you don't." Horatio shook his head, frowning. That hadn't quite sounded like he meant it to, but his brother got the point. "Thomas will take care of the kids, and it's not like I can't call up Border Clan for more Hunters."

"Not Sands! Guy creeps me out. And they say I'm crazy." Dino shuddered. "I'll make sure everything is secure then head out. Chris and Leslie are also on their way."

"Do what you need to do. Just keep us informed." Horatio waved at his daughter, smiling at her cooing laughter.

"Back at you, bro!" Dino gave him a pointed look. "Need anything, and we're there. You know that."

"I know." Horatio gave him a quick nod. "Be safe."

Dino turned off the computer system, and held Elizabeth up where he could see her. "You're going to be a handful aren't you?" She giggled and smacked him on the nose. "I'm totally handing you off to Dean when you turn sixteen."

"Mate?" Terry walked in, carrying Sean under one arm like he was luggage. "Thomas is already five steps ahead of us and called Nico."

Sean giggled and kicked with his feet, squirming around.

"This is my shocked face." Dino stared at him blankly.

Thomas ignored the both of them as he came into the room behind Terry, and took Elizabeth into his arms. "Your plane is ready for departure and waiting for you at Louis Armstrong. Drive safely to New Orleans, and please, the children are very well secured. You can go and see your son. Everything will be fine here. Just promise you will hug him for me, and bring him home."

"Thank you." Terry held out Sean and handed him off to Sylum's Chief of Staff.

"Simply doing my job, Master Terrance." He juggled the twins very professionally. "Now go, before I arrange Murdock to fly the two of you straight there with no stops."

Terry shivered.

"Don't know why everyone runs screaming when you mention the guy's name. Murdock is way cool and a damn fine pilot!" Dino leaned over, and kissed Elizabeth and Sean on their respective foreheads.

"Babies! I'll take one!" Lucas dashed in around them, snagging his little Nephew. "Hey guy! You want to come play with me?"

Sean smiled and clapped his hands.

"Okay, that's a definite yes!"

Kermit and Peter decided to relieve Thomas of his other burden.

"Let me help you there!" Kermit cried, reaching for Elizabeth who promptly started to bawl, but before he could take her, she was snatched out of the Butler's hands and held up high.

Joe blew a raspberry on her stomach then brought her down into his arms, humming Metallica. "Little trick I learned from Dean," he explained.

Peter leaned over and took her hands, playing peek-a-boo.

She giggled.

Kermit smiled softly at his Mate. "You are much better with children than I am."

"She's a hard one to warm up to," Joe said. "Took her months to let Lucas pick her up, and even longer before she let me."

"It's the Metallica…" Lucas shook his head. "Dean's already got her addicted."

Thomas coughed politely. "Master Terrance? Master Dean? Surely you have somewhere else to be?" He motioned them to the door and escorted them downstairs. "Please let us know when you arrive in Egypt."

"Thank you, for everything!" Terry gave him a quick wave as they headed for the car that was idling in the driveway.

Thomas waited a few moments to see them off, then with a contented sigh, he headed to the kitchen to check on preparations for dinner.

His contentment didn't last.

Instead he came to a full and screeching stop, when he saw someone sitting at the island in the middle of the room, his feet up on the cleanly scrubbed work surface, a fork in one hand, busy eating one of cook's pies with a seemingly voracious appetite.

The guy was huge.

His bulk, solid and apparently immovable, felt positively enormous even in so big a space.

"Who are exactly might you be?" Thomas demanded, not moving from his spot, calculating where the nearest weapons were located.

There was something about the stranger's horrible scar and the shiny yellow pin he wore on his lapel, that screamed 'run away now and don't look back'.

"Don't worry, not here to kill you." He stood up, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet under the island, and then retrieved the nearly empty pie plate he'd slammed down. "The Old Man sent me. Said I should watch over the kids."

Thomas nodded, not know what else he could realistically do at that point.

The other Vampire breezed past him, straight out the door. "Be in your Security Room. By the way? This is really good pie."

Thomas watched him go, then he grabbed his phone from his belt and hit speed dial.

'Hey!' Nico answered. 'What's up?'

"We're secured," he informed his Master, glancing hastily back at where the Council's Hunter had gone, not wanting to get spooked again. "Imenand sent us a Watchman."


Stage Three | Stage Five

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