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Yours, Mine, and Ours or The Van Helsing Stake	By : Beaverhausen13 Category: 1 through F > Friday the 13th: The Series Views: 549 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Friday the 13th: The Series. I do not own True Blood. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
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I wake up pretty pleasantly. Micki and I have drifted into the center of the heart, arms slung possessively around each other in our slumber. I lift my hand from where it was resting on her waist/lower back and raise a fist to my eyes, rubbing them with the back and indulging in a yawn. God, she’s beautiful in repose. Sure, Micki’s beautiful all the time, though it’s especially captivating when she sleeps. When Eric calls her Goddess, that pretty much sums it up. That she is.
          “Micki,” I say softly, “It’s time to wake up.”
          “Five more minutes.” She mumbles, eyes still closed shut.
          I relent and just stare at her for the requested five, enjoying the feel of her snuggling into my body. I realize I’m playing with fire here, but I’m a sucker for masochism every once in a while. Especially if it’s temptation clad in a silk pink nightie with petal soft skin. I can’t stop thinking about her and Pam kissing last night. It was an overall surreal experience, though, our goodnight kisses with Pam and Eric.
          I better stop myself. I think she’s finally waking up. “What time is it?” Micki groans lazily, releasing her grip from my body and wiping her face with her hands.
          I glance over at the alarm clock on the nightstand by her side of the bed, “8:45.” I answer, “Breakfast? Coffee? B Vitamins?”
          “Yes to all three.” She yawns, stretching a bit.
          We get dressed, her in a little white tank dress and me in gray shorts and a white Specials t-shirt and grab breakfast and coffee in the hotel restaurant. It’s already incredibly warm and humid outside; it’s going to take a while to adjust to this heat. Sweat looks good on Micki, though. She’s practically glowing in the sun. We make our way back to the room and take inventory of the chest that Eric and Pam had left for us. Inside are two long, heavy silver chains, two stakes with mallets, two revolvers, and some curious looking wooden bullets. I pick up one of the revolvers and open the chamber, “I’m assuming we aim for the heart.” I say as I begin filling the gun with wooden bullets.
          “I believe that’s what Pam said.” Micki answers me as she fills the other revolver, “Hopefully we won’t even have to use these.” She says.
          I give her an up and down glance, “Where are you even going to put that thing?” I ask her as I slip the revolver in the back waistband of my shorts.
          “I have a purse.” She retorts, producing a small white purse with a shoulder strap. Micki slings it over her shoulder and deposits the gun inside, throwing me a challenging glance.
          “Question answered.” I say, putting up my palms. “We should probably find something to put these chains and stakes in. Unless you want to lug that chest with us.”
          She looks in the chest and pulls out a large black cloth sack with handles, “Eric and Pam already have us covered.”
          “Huh, I must have missed it because of the color.” I say, putting the chains and stakes inside and hefting the bag onto my shoulder. “We should go. It’s burning daylight.”
          I can’t help but feel a clawing sense of fear on the drive out to Billy Ray’s. I’m grateful that we’re armed to the teeth, but remain apprehensive about what we’re going to face.
          “Remember to try not looking him in the eye.” Micki warns me, breaking the silence as we pull up to the side of the highway near Billy Ray’s trailer, “If he’s able to glamour us, it’s over.”
          “Good advice.” I say, sucking in a deep breath.
          It’s eerily quiet as we approach the teal and white single wide trailer. I make pretty quick work of picking the lock on the front door and we slip inside, making a concerted effort to be as quiet as possible. The décor is standard redneck. There’s a giant Confederate flag taking up most of the living room wall and the place isn’t what you’d call the cleanest. Micki stealthily begins pulling the black out curtains open, flooding the trailer with sunlight. We continue this as we make our way to the back of the trailer. We reach the back bedroom and slowly push the door all the way open. I reach into the bag and grip onto a length of silver chain as Micki flies to the window and opens the curtain. I hand her a stake as we stand over the long coffin emblazoned with yet another Confederate flag. Micki slowly opens the lid, revealing a scrawny looking man with a sandy colored mullet, wearing a white undershirt and red jogging shorts. His skin starts smoldering in the sun, steam rising. I place the length of chain on his front, which seems to burn and sink into his flesh, “Now, Micki.” I whisper.
          She raises the stake and is suddenly blasted to the other side of the room as his arm shoots up from the coffin. I can’t even breathe before I find myself flying as well. “Y’all done fucked up now.” Billy Ray snarls at us, advancing toward me with the silver chain still clinging to his front. He also seems to be slowly on fire as the sun creates cinders on his skin. His ability for super speed must be lessened currently, but he’s strong as fuck. I hit the wall so hard I’m afraid I might be paralyzed. I can’t feel my legs.
          He almost reaches me before he explodes, washing the entire room in his blood and just soaking me in it. I turn my head to see Micki in the corner, her leg twisted in a horrible angle, shaking as she holds the revolver in her right hand. Her formerly white dress is now colored red. “I think my leg’s broken.” She cries, “And my head hurts really bad.”
          “Micki, I can’t feel my legs.” I respond. “I’m really scared, here.” I make another attempt to move my lower half, but it’s not working.
          “Oh my God, Ryan.” She cries, crawling over to me, dragging her lame limb behind her. Her leg is broken badly, “What are we going to do?”
          “Nothing we can do but wait until nightfall. Then maybe Pam and Eric can teleport us to a hospital.” I croak out, taking her head in my lap. Oh, her poor head. She has a big gash right on her hairline, “I hope we can make it until then.”
          “I’m more worried about you. But oh, ohhhhh Ryan, it hurts so bad.” Micki sobs. I can’t feel her head in my lap. God, this is frightening. “At least that bastard met the True Death.”
          “Yeah, nice shot, by the way. Thank you for saving my life.” I look at her tenderly. I can tell she’s in this other world of pain right now, and my heart breaks for her, “I don’t thank you enough for saving my life. I love you, Micki.”
          Her sobs in my lap cease a bit as she sucks in a deep breath, “I love you too, Ryan. And I hope against hope that you are able to walk again.” She looks up at me, her beautiful face stained with vampire blood, and runs a finger down my cheek.
          I want to do everything that I can to reassure her, because she’s so fucking scared, I can see it in her eyes, “We’ll get through this, Micki.” I say, softly stroking her blood caked hair, “Jack did his protection spell, remember?”
          She cries out as another wave of pain hits her, “And if it doesn’t work out?” she breathes out in her agony.
          “Then at least we’re together.” I tell her, wiping the tears making light pink trails down her face. It dawns on me that we finally just admitted that we love each other, and my stomach lurches, or would if I could feel it, anyway.
          “Yeah, at least we’re together.” Micki repeats before groaning out another cry of pain. Her hand grasps mine, squeezing it in her distress. At least I can still feel my arms and my upper half. I’m useless from the waist down, however. It feels like it’s at permanent rest. Like I’m floating. “I think I’m going to die from this pain, Ryan. Oh, I love you so much.” She sobs, squeezing my hand so hard that my fingers grow numb.
          “I’m not gonna let you die, Micki.” I say soothingly.
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Yours, Mine, and Ours or The Van Helsing Stake