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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-Men characters in this story. But the village of Glen Branloch is mine I tell you!


A/N: I’m a major, MAJOR horror fan, from vampires to zombies and everything in between. So it was only a matter of time before I got around to writing a RoLo horror fic. I have to say, vampires are my absolute favourites of all the possible ghouls and one of the best comicverse storylines Storm has ever had (in my opinion) is the Blood-Storm/ Dracula one. I just couldn’t resist putting our fave’ couple into the mix with a few evil blood-suckers! Call it my Xmas present to you all. I don’t know what it is but the Christmas season always puts me in the mood for horror stories...gory horror stories, lol!


Anyway read on and enjoy! (insert grotesquely over-exaggerated hammy horror laugh here [ ...] Lol!) M’ikosan7, xx.


Marvel Universe: Movie


Rating: 18






‘Darkness Falls’


I’ll protect you from the hooded claw,
Keep the vampires from your door...

‘The Power of Love’ by Frankie Goes to Hollywood


* * *


A stroke of luck,
Or a gift from God?
The hand of fate,
Or the devils claws?
From below or saints above,
You come to me.

‘A Stroke of Luck’ by Garbage.



* * *




Close to Mt. An Teallach, north of Loch Maree, the Scottish Highlands...





Ororo’s eyes fell shut slowly as she heaved in another breath. It burned...it burned so much that she couldn’t concentrate on anything but its painful insistence, calling her, beckoning her...She wondered how much longer she could hold out as she slouched back against the wall with the thin paper and the hard coarse brick beneath. The chill of it came through to press on her skin and for a moment it struck her as strange that she should notice that. She never felt the cold, she could make certain that she never felt the damn cold so why was she noticing it now? The distraction was unfortunately brief though as another wave of fire ran through her, this time making her scream out and lurch forwards, clutching at the cloth of her vest top over her stomach. She landed almost face down but her left arm flailed out just in time to stop her; smacking against the bare floorboards loudly, her palm laid flat. A soft whimpering noise escaped her lips and she was forced to purse them shut to stop it from happening again. Her whole body trembled in effort. Somewhere far off she became aware of the heavy stomping of feet. The noise was coming from outside the room but it was rapidly getting louder and coming in her direction. She forced herself to look up in the direction of the door; her disarrayed white locks falling down in front of her face so that she viewed the old-fashioned wooden door intermittently through a white veil.


Her breathing became increasingly harsh as she watched the door; it’s ocean noise swelling her ears, consuming her senses as she waited and watched. The sound even managed to drown out the thumping feet coming towards her, taking the fast heavy bangs into the background, ushering them far, far away from her. Letting her head lull back down, Ororo rested her forehead on the ground; half on the wood of the floor boards, half on the floral rug that stretched out just in front of her. Then the pain came again in a rushing flood and she gritted her teeth and wrapped both arms around her stomach like she had cramps; her body completely rigid with contained tension. A sound uttered from her mouth again of its own volition, this time less a whimper more a growl. A growl of pain and frustration....and want. Suddenly the door of the dark bedroom flung open, clattering noisily against the tall, antique wardrobe that stood grandly behind it. She didn’t bother to look up, she was barely aware that it had happened at all...


“‘Ro!” Logan cleared the room in two bounds to get over to her side. Crouching down, he laid his hands on her shoulders and coaxed her back up to a sitting position, leaning her against the wall once more. Her coffee skin glistened with sweat, but it was clearly of a feverish origin as she shivered every so often and each in take of air seemed laboured. “You alright?” He asked automatically as he pressed his palm to her forehead, pushing her hair out of the way to check her temperature. She was burning up, but the intensity of her body heat seemed even more acute to his sensitive touch.


“Yes.” She muttered with dry lips, her eyes firmly closed and then, with a weak shake she retracted, “No...no.” Her forehead creased down as the fire came again, flowing through every vain, coursing in her thumping heart like lava.


“You’ve just gotta hang on fer me darlin’,” He looked around anxiously, quickly scanning for something, anything that he could bar the door with to keep her safely in here. The last thing he wanted was to have to leave her on her own again but he had no choice if they wanted to make it out of here alive. Flicking his gaze back down to her, he promised, “I’ll get us out of here,” He took her face into his cupped palm, he gently lifted her head up, encouraging her, with great effort, to peel her dark eyes open, “I swear it. Just....just hold on, okay?”


Ororo nodded meekly and tried to smile; the briefest glimmer fleeting on her lips. But her mind began to cloud and she’d just become aware of a vicious throbbing in her mouth. She tongued at the roof of the orifice, touching the hard flesh plate lightly. But she quickly withdrew from it when its tenderness caused her yet more discomfort. This couldn’t be happening, she thought to herself in a brief flash of clarity, this can not be happening...


Logan moved off and quickly rummaged around the room, looking for an object to block the door with. There was a lock on it but it would be easily forced with even the merest insistence. No, he had to blockade it and blockade it good. There was only one thing for it. Making his way over to the medium sized window, hoping over the bed to get there, he opened up its lead latticed frame and poked his head out into the still night. They were only on the first floor of the stone, white-washed cottage so the drop to the ground below wasn’t that much. Seventeen to eighteen foot at most he estimated quickly. He looked to the left and there was a black plastic drainpipe bolted firmly to the old wall. Reaching out he gripped it and gave it a quick shake to check how safe it was. If he was going to use it to get back into the room later he had to be sure that it could take his weight. All that adamantium was fucking heavy. But it seemed sturdy enough and at this particular moment in time there were precious few other options open to him.


Pulling back into the room, Logan jumped over the double bed again to get back to the door. Going around the other side of the large wardrobe he began to push it in front of the only other access to the room. It was heavy as hell and took all his effort to get it to budge. At first it didn’t move at all as he strained against it, his face red and contorted with the effort. But after a moment the great dark hulk started to shift, groaning with a baritone deepness as it scrapped across the floor.


“Ggggrrrrrr-ah!” With one last forceful push, he had the huge wardrobe in front of the door; not letting the nagging feeling that it probably wouldn’t do much good to keep them out. But he had to at least do something. “Right, that should hold---I don’t want you to move until I get back. I’ll be as quick as---.” His words were lost when he looked back down at his girlfriend. She was fairly panting now and the clear beads poured from her face and down her chest making her hair stick to her skin like wet straw. “Darlin’! You’ve gotta fight it!” He urged her as he came back down to her side. Reaching up he carefully tilted her head over to the right. Picking up a clump of white that clung possessively to her neck he growled to himself as his eyes fell upon the two dark welts that looked like round black eyes staring mercilessly back out at him. They looked like they’d gotten bigger since the last time he’d checked her but maybe that was just the spread of the ugly bruising around them or perhaps they’d bled a little again.


Her panting slowly morphed into quick sharp gasps through her parted lips. She found that it was no longer possible to keep her mouth shut, it hurt too much; a searing sting had replaced the dull ache. “Logan I can’t...I...” Her eyes opened wide with a silent pleading as she looked up at him, searching his face for an answer as to what was happening to her. But all she saw was him trying to hold back his own confusion and perhaps terror.


“‘Ro? ‘RO?!” Logan gripped firmly at her attempting to bring her to him but he couldn’t. It was like she was resisting, arching away from him.


His cries fell on deaf ears as her mind turned into a dense fog of physical sensations. For a moment through her horror she had chance to wonder if this was what it was like for Logan, to be able to hear, feel, smell, taste and see everything all at once, her senses were becoming overwhelmed. But there was one thing that cut through it all. The never ending drumming; the bud-doom, bud-doom, bud-doom of a beating heart. But she quickly realised that it wasn’t her heart she was hearing although hers was pounding like a jackhammer too. But no, it was Logan’s she could hear, Logan’s that filled her ears and stoked what she now knew was her hunger...


A metalic essence filled her mouth as she ran her tongue upwards again. But the pain was no longer there, something else was instead. Her fleshy muscle snagged on a sharp point to the right of her mouth as she ran it along her top teeth. The taste of the meagre trickle of blood from it hit her like nothing else ever before. Without warning she began to thrash from side to side in his grip; trying desperately to pull out of it because she couldn’t control this thing inside of her any longer. But he held her fast.


Falling down to the side Ororo splayed out flat on the floor with Logan above her, pinning her down at the shoulders as best he could, trying to stop her from writhing wildly, the sound of her screams piercing in his ears. Then, for no apparent reason, she ceased to move, ceased to cry out. Her legs stopped kicking against the floor, she had stopped shaking her head from side to side and her eyes had fallen shut.


Logan fought to get his breath back as he left his hands where they were, not wanting to take them away until he was absolutely sure she wouldn’t freak out again. “What the fucks going on?” He whispered angrily to himself despite the fact that he knew exactly what was going on. He knew it... he just refused to believe it. Tentatively he began to pull back, kneeling with his legs at either side of her body. He was fairly certain that she’d passed out and perhaps that was the best thing for her right now. He sat there for a moment in absent thought, simply gazing down at her still form as he ran a hand over the bristly bottom half of his face and then rested it over his mouth. The thought of leaving her alone in this state was even more daunting now than it was before. One weekend, one fucking weekend to themselves, in peace. That was all they’d wanted. Was that really too much to ask without something totally insane happening?


She stirred slightly with a quiet moan, making her head fall to the side and revealing the marks on her neck again. But they were not what caught his attention this time as the moon flittered in one long shaft through the still open window onto the two figures. The blue light made something in her mouth glint. Hesitantly, Logan reached down and with one finger, he lifted up her lip on the left hand side. “Jesus fucking H Christ.” He ground out slowly as his eyes descried one unusually sharp canine poking down further than the rest of her perfectly white teeth; the top of that particular on was a little pinkish though, as if it had just pushed through the gum. Which, unless he’d been dating her with his eyes closed for the past eight months, it certainly had. He was so dazed by this latest development that he didn’t notice her eyes flickering or the tips of her fingers twitching ever-so-slightly.


It happened in an absolute flash, as swift as lightening...


“FUCK!” Was all he had time to shout in angry surprise as she sprung up from the floor and clamped her mouth around the left side of his neck. The jolt sent him flying backward, crashing onto the rug so that she was now astride him. He tried with all his strength to lever her off his body as he felt four sharp pains in the flesh of his neck and the warm trickle of blood spilling down his skin, dripping thickly down behind his ear. With a neat *zing* all six razor sharp claws popped out from between roughened knuckles in reflex reaction, glinting in the cold clear light of the lunar orb. But there was no way, even for a split second that he considered using them against her, though nor could he will them back into their housings. Instead Logan continued to struggle against her, gasping at her arms tightly and trying to pry her off but it was like she’d suddenly gained the strength of twenty men as she gripped at his hair powerfully and drank from him greedily.


The last thing he was aware of was her snarls of blood-lust filled ecstasy and the moist heat of her mouth as a darkness descended over him, at first splitting and blurring his vision before blotting out Ororo and the world around...



* * *




Two days ago in Westchester, New York State. Friday, 9.15am...





“Scotland?!” Jean repeated again, a bemused look on her face.


“Yes, Scotland.” Ororo said cordially, laughing slightly that Jean found the idea of Logan and her taking a romantic break in Scotland so funny and peculiar. She put her bag into the back of her red Suzuki jeep; she’d managed to get all the necessaries into just two bags, which was a personal best, she had to admit.


The red-head leant back against the wall of the spacious garage, her arms folded over her chest, still smiling. “Whose idea was it?”


“Mine.” She insisted and shook her head playfully at the look on her best friends face.


“What made you decide to go there?” She asked almost incredulous as she walked around to the other side of the jeep where Ororo was standing, checking the glove compartment for their passports and such. It was the fourth time in the space of thirty minutes. “I mean,” Jean continued jovially, “If I was going to get Scott to take me anywhere I’d suggest...” Her eyes found the high ceiling as she racked her brains for some of the most exotic and romantic places she could think of, “...Honolulu, Rome, or...I don’t know. But Scotland?---it’ll be freezing this time of year!” She mimicked a shiver, rippling her body and rubbing her bare arms vigorously.


Ororo sucked in the side of her cheek and tilted her head to side to face Jean; her elegantly shaped eyebrow arched in such a manner as to say ‘Are you stupid?’.


“Oh yeah,” Jean said sheepishly, “Mistress of the Weather and all that.”


Storm shook her head and laughed lightly from a closed mouth as she climbed into the jeep on the passenger side; pulling the door closed with a soft slam before buckling up. “Well my idea of a romantic break and yours are clearly very different Jean.” She smiled almost to herself, “And besides, can you really see Logan sunning himself on a tropical white sandy beach or admiring the architecture and art of a Roman piazza?” At that both woman began to laugh; the joyful sound echoing in the cavity of the garage that sat beneath the west wing of the mansion.


“Was that a private joke or can anyone hear it?”


They both turned to the door as Logan came in, ever-present cigar in his mouth, accompanied by the Professor, with Scott walking just behind his chair. Looking at the three of them suppressed giggles creasing their mouths into awkward smiles, they couldn’t hold it in as they turned to face each other again; erupting in shrill peels. Scott and Logan both shook their heads in pretend dismay; the unknowing similarity and timing of their respective actions prolonging the women’s hysterics that little bit longer.


After they’d calmed down Jean went round to stand with Scott, giving him a light peck on the cheek and then resting comfortably on his shoulder as they watched Logan throw his bag carelessly in the back before climbing into the jeep. Ororo handed him the keys and quickly he revved her up.


“What time is your flight?” Charles asked, directing the question at both of them.


Logan looked at the digital clock on the radio, estimating the leaving time of the flight and discounting the check-in deadline. “About two and half hours.”


“Eleven forty-five.” Ororo clarified, leaning forwards to address the Professor from around the other side of Logan.


“Get in touch when you arrive at the cottage.”


“Of course.” She said, giving Xavier an affectionate smile. “We should get into Glasgow airport at eight o’clock our time, so it should be about one am over there. Moira’s arranged for a car to pick us up and take us to the cottage from the airport. It shouldn’t take more than two hours to get to Glen Branloch from there.”


“Good, good.” He assured them with an absent nod. It was nice of him to have put the pair in touch with his old colleague Dr. Moira MacTaggart when he’d heard they were planning a trip to the rugged country side of the north of Britain. He was still on affable terms with her, despite the divorce. But that was just the type of person Professor Charles Xavier was; he could never bear anyone ill-will. It wasn’t in him to do so.


“Enjoy the trip.” Scott offered; a genuinely felt sentiment to Logan as well as his oldest friend bar Jean. “Safe journey.”


Logan nodded and Ororo gave her thanks. Then the three of them waved their colleagues and team mates off after the final goodbyes, watching the jeep tear down the drive until it disappeared through the gothic iron gates that opened automatically on their high speed approach and out onto the road under a greying overcast sky.


“So, when are you going to take me on a romantic week-end huh?” Jean asked teasingly as they went back into the house, making Charles laugh quietly at his team-leaders hesitant umm-ing and ahh-ing, bereft of an appeasing answer for his fiancée.



* * *


It was a little after three when they arrived at the remote cottage, three miles outside of the small village of Glen Branloch, nestled in the shadow of Mt. An Teallach. But at present neither the mountain or any of the stunning surrounding countryside could be seen in the pitch black of the early hours of the morning. The flight over had been smooth and utterly uneventful apart from Ororo’s insistence on Logan divulging to her the secret of how he’d gotten through airport security without any of the metal detectors crying bloody murder. But he’d remained stubbornly ‘schtum’ on whatever it was the Professor had given him to enable him to travel via traditional means without being hauled over the coals by misguided authorities. When they’d arrived at Glasgow they’d both been rather surprised when they clapped eyes on the vintage Rolls Royce that Dr. MacTaggart had sent to take them to their destination. It was incredibly comfortable too; both of them almost falling asleep in the back as they travelled in style.


Gradually the driver pulled the car up to the front of the cottage; bringing the large car to a slow stop on the patch of gravel that covered an oblong area by the door. It was deathly silent outside and the only thing that could be seen was the white washed traditional abode, with its winter pansy (blue, purple and golden yellow) window boxes, lead-latticed five front windows and dark thatched roof with stone chimney stacks at either end. The whole thing was lit by two electric security lights attached either side of the thick wooden door, crossed with old iron brackets, with an old-fashioned round handled latch to admit entry. Above it was an irregular chunk of thick weathered wood, attached to the wall with two thick, rusted nails. On it was inscribed, carved rather crudely the date ‘1596. AD’.


After getting the bags out of the trunk for them the driver, Dougie, bid them adieu. “If there’s any problems yae’ve got a phone in there, though the lines can be a wee bit temperamental out here.” He laid the last bag down by the door and pushed his cap back on his head slightly as he straightened up. “I’ll be back ta collect yae first thing Monday morn’; nine sharp.”


“Thank-you Dougie.”


“Aye.” The robust Scotsman replied, ‘dothing’ his stiff black cap genially at Ororo. “Everythin’ yae need’s down that road,” he turned, pointing to a path that was currently cloaked in darkness, “The village’s got all yae necessities; newsagents, food shop, gift shop,” He looked over at Logan, “Pub.” He gave a knowing smile and had it returned by an unusually relaxed if somewhat sleepy and jet-lagged Wolverine. Heightened senses where hell when it came to such a massive displacement of self. He felt like he’d left his brain in last Friday, but the healing factor would soon compensate for that.


Ororo shook her head as she reached into her pocket and took out the key she’d been sent earlier in the week and let herself in, taking up one of her bags whilst Logan picked up the other two. Once inside they heard the car pulling away, dragging off into the distance until the air was quiet as a mouse once more, leaving the pair in absolute and grateful solitude.


Logan reached up to the side of the door, turning he light-switch, which was of the dimmer sort; it was control by a twisting knob, letting the light from its bulb slowly as not to startle the eyes. They found them selves in a low-ceiling living room with beautifully crafted wooden furniture, a large old hearth and the original flagstone flooring still in tact. It was dark but cosy and smelt of gorgeously fresh lavender and heather, dried sprigs of which were attached to the thick wooden beams that ran along the ceiling along with ornamental horseshoes and assorted brass figures. The stair case was steep and narrow; a free standing structure that sat towards the back of the fairly spacious room. It was constructed of the same almost black wood that formed the beams and support posts that dotted the room in four strategic places.


“Wow.” Ororo whispered, slightly aghast at the rustic charm of the place. It was more beautiful than she could have imagined. The pictures she’d been sent simply didn’t do the cottage justice.


“Nice.” Logan said with a little sniff of indifference, using the same clipped tone that every man uses when he has to profess his admiration for something; macho and begrudging of the sentiment. He placed all three of their cases into the corner of the room whilst Ororo wondered around, checking all the nooks and crannies, casting a leisurely eye over the several original watercolour landscapes that hung about the room on the walls that where painted the same as the outer ones.


“It’s gorgeous.” She said finally as she turned to face her lover, a beaming smile lighting her up like a Christmas tree.


Logan sauntered over to her with a lopsided grin, enveloping her in his arms. “You’re gorgeous.” He growled playfully as he pulled her close to him in his loving embrace and kissed her on the end of her button nose. The gesture caused her to giggle like a school girl as she snuggled up to him, closing her eyes and burying her face in his chest. The scent of burnt leaves and dusky smoke urging her to press to him closer, making her sigh with pleasure. Similarly he found comfort in her familiar Sandalwood aroma, its habitual presence putting to rest his natural animal caginess of being in a new place with new scents. His rational side reacted to unfamiliar environments like any person would, with logic. But the instinctual, wilder side viewed them with constant suspicion. Fortunately, the scent of his ‘mate’ in close proximity quieted those primal animal doubts quickly.


“We should check out the rest of the place.” Her voice was soft and rendered muffled against the surface of his red and black plaid shirt and leather jacket. She tilted her face up to him and kissed him gently, her eyes drifting closed to savour it.


“Yeah, maybe in the mornin’ beautiful.” He said as he pulled back. “But there’s only one room I wanna check out right now.”


“Oh yes?” Her eyebrow arched knowingly as all he gave her in return was a wickedly dirty smile. “You’re right of course,” She began earnestly, struggling to keep a straight face. “We really should sleep off this jet-lag.”


Logan made a disgruntled noise and then leant in quickly, place his lips a hairs breadth away from hers, but resisting the touch, for now. “Who said anything about sleepin’?” He whispered with unusual dulcetness, making her insides quiver with anticipation. “Maybe we should just work it off.”


She smiled up at him, a glimmer of mischievousness in those big brown eyes, but not enough to drown out their pretended innocence. Ororo knew exactly what it did to him when she played coy and rest assured she played it for all it was worth at times. “Whatever do you mean Mr. Wolverine?” She said in a sing-song voice, batting her long dark eyelashes exaggeratedly just for extra effect as she cocked her to the side.


“Get up those stairs.” He growled in mock threat and then releasing her from his tight embrace he physically turned her around and swatted her arse to set her on her way.


With a joyfully surprised yelp Ororo ran for the stairs, pounding up them with thunderous noise as Logan started after her with a lusty snarl. She somehow managed to scream and laugh all at once as he chased her. The perfect start to what they were both sure was going to well deserved and relaxing break from the Institute and the X-Men.


-To Be Continued-


Feel free to make comment or offer any suggestions. My mind and ears are always open!





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