Yours, Mine, and Ours or The Van Helsing Stake

BY : Beaverhausen13
Category: 1 through F > Friday the 13th: The Series
Dragon prints: 50
Disclaimer: I do not own Friday the 13th: The Series. I do not own True Blood. I make no money from this.

Yours, Mine, and Ours or The Van Helsing Stake

Author: Pepperstasia Beaverhausen

Rating: NC to the 17, my izzle

Categories: Crossover, MRR, angst, RST, slight slash, Micki and Ryan POVs, alternative substance use

Spoilers: “Death is not the End” for True Blood, slight mention of “The Baron’s Bride” for Friday the 13th: The Series

Timeline: around mid-season 2 for F13:TS

Author’s Notes and the Disclaimer: I know I’m beating a dead goddamned horse, but the characters of Micki, Ryan, and Jack belong to Larry B. Williams, Frank Mancuso, Jr. and Paramount, and again, not me. Furthermore, the characters of Eric Northman and Pamela Swynford De Beaufort also do not belong to me and are the property of HBO, Alan Ball, and Charlaine Harris. I just thought it would be fun for these characters to meet, honestly. And since vampires are canon in F13:TS, I figured, why the hell not? Why not have the shop crew work with the most badass vampires in all of vampire-dom? Just a note, all vampire rules within this story follow the True Blood universe. And now, on to the SMUT, gangstas.

“…I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I know this much is true/ I wanna do bad things with you; I wanna do real bad things with you…” -Jace Everett, “Bad Things”

          “Well, aren’t you exquisite.” I hear a cool, even-toned male voice utter from behind me.

          I’ve just arrived home from a lead on a cursed inkwell, it’s around 8 in the evening, and I was just opening the front door of Curious Goods. I turn around and almost collapse against the door. The man with the cool voice stands before me, 6’5 at least, piercing me with ice-blue eyes and running a hand through his Nordic blond hair. He’s a Swedish God. Sincerely beautiful.

          “I could say the same about you.” I reply. Micki, get it together. He’s just a man.

          “Do you work here?” he asks, moving closer and catching me in a gaze.

          I find myself hypnotized, “Yes, I’m one of the owners.” I can’t help but say.

          “Perfect.” He says, “Eric Northman.” He continues, pulling a mailer from his coat pocket, “My partner, Pamela Swynford De Beaufort, received this and we believe that you might be able to assist us in a little problem that we are currently in the midst of. So, do you have a name or should I just call you Goddess?”

          My knees go weak, “Micki Foster. Nice to meet you, Eric Northman.”

          “Are you going to invite me in or am I just going to continue to gaze at your beauty outdoors?” Eric questions me in a mischievous way that completely disarms me.

          “Please, come in.” I say, trying to quell the smile spurned on by his attentions. I may be in love with someone else, but I can’t negate the affections of this God of a man standing before me.

          He gives me another disarming smile as he steps through the doorway. “You were saying that you had a problem?” I ask as I follow him into the storefront.

          “Nice place.” He comments as he looks around, “A touch of the morbid. I like it. Yes, Micki Foster, I have a problem, and it has to do with a certain stake that my prog—life partner Pam bought from this place three years ago.”

          Ryan comes flying down the stairs, jamming out to The Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry” on his Walkman and stops mid-stair when he sees Eric and myself, “Hey Micki, what’s going on?” he asks, tucking his t-shirt into his sweatpants.

          “Eric Northman, meet my business partner, Ryan Dallion, the other owner of Curious Goods.” I introduce as Eric stares at Ryan with a bemused grin, “Eric is answering one of our mailers.” I tell Ryan.

          “Should I get Jack?” Ryan asks, “Nice to meet you, Eric.” He says almost like an afterthought.

          “Jack?” Eric asks.

          “He’s our other associate.” I tell Eric, “Would you like me to take your coat? Yes, Ryan, get Jack.”

          Ryan bounds downstairs as I help the delicious Eric Northman out of his peacoat. “I’m not used to these kinds of coats that much anymore; I’ve lived in Louisiana for a few years now.” Eric tells me as I hang his coat on the hook by the rear entrance of the store.

          I’m trying not to drool over the way his sweater hangs off of his broad shoulders, or the way his jeans cling to his incredibly long legs, for that matter. Eric Northman is a stunning man. “Louisiana?” I echo.

          “Shreveport, to be exact. Pam and I own a video store out there.” He explains, “She was visiting someone here a few years ago and bought the stake in question at this very store. She didn’t mention the shopkeepers being so attractive, though. And she would have.”

          I laugh a little at this, “She must have bought it from our Uncle Lewis. We inherited the store when he died over a year and a half ago.”

          “That explains things.” Eric smiles at me, “Pam would really like you. You’re just her type; devastatingly gorgeous.”

          My knees buckle as Ryan and Jack come upstairs and Jack heartily introduces himself. “Eric Northman, Jack Marshak. Thank you for answering our mailer.” Jack says, shaking Eric’s hand.

          “Eric was telling me there was a problem with a stake that his partner bought.” I explain to Jack and Ryan.

          “Yeah, it was originally owned by Van Helsing.” Eric chimes in, laughing, “Pam thought it was a riot.”

          Jack crosses over to the Manifest and promptly looks it up, “Sold to Pamela Swynford De Beaufort?”

          “That’s the one. So, I have some questions, and I’m hoping that you’ll answer them.” Eric says, staring at all three of us in the eyes. I don’t know about Jack and Ryan, but I am just locked in Eric Northman’s gaze. I see a peaceful, ice-blue ocean, “What the hell *is* this thing, anyway?”

          “Cursed.” Ryan says in a dreamy voice.

          “Cursed how?” Eric asks.

          “By Satan, certainly.” The words come out of my mouth unbidden, “What have you seen it do?”

          “I’ve seen a fledgling vampire have the powers of millennia old vampires, that’s what.” He says bluntly, “He killed a vampire with that stake and flew away. He shouldn’t have been able to do that. He stole it from Pam, the little shit.”

          Vampires? I’m kind of confused, but am also overcome with a weird sense of peace. I’m not in danger. I’m just fine.

          “So, the stake isn’t in your possession?” Jack asks.

          “No, that’s why I need your help. This stain of a fledgling vampire stole it from Pam and we need someone to be able to get it away from him in the daylight hours. That’s where you come in. If you want to take this thing back, all the better. The novelty’s worn off for Pam anyway. Especially now.”

          What he just said sinks in through my haze. Is he? A vampire. Holy shit.

          Eric senses our panic in the air, “Before you start freaking out, I’m not here to hurt you. We sincerely need your help, and contrary to belief, vampires do *not* need to kill to feed.” He leans in a little closer to me, “It does make the sex outstanding, for the record.” He says this lowly and I can’t help but blush.

          I am surprised by the lack of reaction from Ryan and Jack that we are being asked to help a vampire. This is not a murderous vampire trying to kill us; he’s entreating us to assist him in getting *rid* of a cursed object, not entranced by one.

          “What do you want us to do, Mr. Northman?” I ask.

          “Come to Shreveport. Stake this Billy Ray Jim Bob while he sleeps. I can’t have these killings on my watch. As Vampire Sheriff of Louisiana’s Area 5, it’s a blight on my otherwise peaceful record.” Eric answers.

          Jack seems to be fighting against something, “This sounds very dangerous, Mr. Northman.”

          “I’ll protect you.” Eric retorts, “I’m 1,000 years old; there isn’t a vampire in Louisiana older or more powerful than I am.”

          1,000 years old? I am blown away and feel as if I’m in a dream, “When do you want us to leave?” I find myself asking.

          “As soon as you can. You’ll have to find your own accommodations; my own are pretty unforgiving for humans, as you can imagine.” Eric says, continuing to hold all three of us in his gaze, “So you agree? You’ll help me?”

          “We’ll help you, Mr. Northman.” Ryan answers in a ghostlike voice.

          “Just as long as we are able to put that stake in our vault and you promise not to harm us.” Jack strains, his voice sounding unearthly.

          “No, I won’t harm you, Mr. Marshak. On my honor as a Viking, I will do my level best to protect all of you. Though, I think you should stay here and keep an eye on the store while Micki and Ryan meet me in Shreveport.” He adds, “Cover your bases.”

          “Yes Jack, I think that’s best.” I agree dreamily.

          Ryan is already making his way to the phone and is calling the airline for tickets to Shreveport, Louisiana. He reserves them pretty quickly, which seems to satisfy the 1,000 year old Viking God. Eric smiles and spreads his arms, “Many thank yous for your help, friends.” He says, then teleports to his coat and it’s on in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, Eric has teleported in front of me and he leans down to kiss my forehead, “Really looking forward to seeing more of you, Goddess Micki.” He smiles impishly as he looks me up and down.

          Then just like that, he’s gone, in a literal blur that shoots up into the sky above the doorway of Curious Goods.

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