Rating: PG13

Pairing: Carl/Gabriel

Series/Sequel: Sequel to Hide and Seek

Summary: The war has started–Gabriel and Carl scout the enemy and discover the doorway to Hell

Notes: Woof! Thank you for your patience–I just got back from vacation (had a lovely time at Disney!) So the chapters should be coming now fairly quickly

Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing’s time (which I feel are merited), the ongoing relationship of Gabriel and Carl that with togetherness, deepens

Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play

Feedback: Special thanks to my reviewers. You folks write the story, actually, I just put it down on paper! My thanks to reviewers: Iblis,Verona Dracula, Fluffy Vampire, Pineapple Ice, Chibi-Kaz, Curious Dream Weaver, and Jania. I would reply individually, but Fanfiction has sanctioned individual responses.

“No! Carl! Look out!”

Van Helsing threw himself forward, his arms going about Carl’s waist to drag him to the ground. Above them, the large clawed paw of the demon slashed at the empty air where Carl had stood seconds before.

The demon had no difficulty keeping track of them with its three heads—that of a lion, a sharp-horned goat, and a hissing serpent. The black eyes narrowed within its leonine head as it watched the two men roll at its feet. A deafening scream from the goat’s head made them clap their hands over their ears while they scrambled to dodge the gout of fire that belched out of the serpent’s mouth. The beast wasn’t very intelligent but it more than made up for that deficiency with sheer size. Well over eight feet tall and as broad across as two men standing side-by-side, its dusky red lion’s body bulged with heavy rippling muscles beneath a thin scattering of black hair.

“What the Hell is that thing?” Van Helsing panted as he and Carl avoided an almost playful swipe of the heavy paw by rolling frantically over the dirty stones. They were back in the catacombs, scouting a way to the door of Hell and finding it very heavy going. The number of monsters appeared to have increased threefold and all of them were protecting the gateway to their home with a daunting dedication.

“Chimera,” Carl gasped as he was dragged backwards by Van Helsing, his legs pistoning in an attempt to regain his footing. Stumbling to his feet, he threw himself backwards against the rough wall, sucking in his breath to avoid the bolt of lightening the lion’s head spat at him.

“Damned thing’s huge,” Van Helsing growled, eyeing the monstrous hybrid ruefully as he noted that the two dozen or so arrows in its hide and the flash burns from Carl’s gun had done little more than annoy the beast. “How do we kill it?”

“W..well, in Greek mythology, Bellopheron killed it with a sword...”

Eyeing the monster belching fire and lightening at him, Van Helsing raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Uh huh... Any other suggestions?”

“A strategic retreat?” Carl puffed, sidling closer to Van Helsing. “How do we get past it?”

The monster before them paused, all three heads eyeing them cannily, then sidled slightly to one side of the corridor, as if taunting them by offering an escape route.

“Lord, I hate a cheeky monster!” Carl growled, ignoring the snort of stifled laughter from Van Helsing.

The monster’s smokey breath hitched in several short puffs that looked remarkably as if the beast was laughing as well. Carl’s eyes narrowed, he took two steps to the right and watched the monster casually mimic his action, stopping when Carl did so that they once again faced one another.

“I think this one fancies you too,” Van Helsing murmured as he edged to the left, raising both eyebrows when the Chimera ignored him. “It does indeed.”

“Lovely...think he likes friars in general or does he just think I look particularly toothsome?”

“Most likely it’s his master who thinks you’re toothsome,” Van Helsing muttered, growling when the lion’s head turned toward him and the great reddish muzzle seemed to curl up into a smile. He was rapidly revising his estimation of the beast’s intelligence and judging by the dismay in the friar’s expression, so was Carl.

Reaching out, Van Helsing snagged Carl’s sleeve, pulling the friar to him. They both stepped back as the monster took one step forward, its heads swaying and twining as all six eyes flicked from one man to the other warily.

“I think if we can’t go forward, we should consider going back,” the hunter spoke carefully as he backed up, pulling Carl with him. The monster paced them easily. Van Helsing eyed it with a wry quirk of the lips. “All right, not backwards then.” Grimly, Van Helsing released Carl’s arm, moving away from him. “Carl...when I give the signal, dodge to your right and try to get by.”

“What!” Carl squeaked, his jaw falling, eyes flying to the hunter in dismay.

“Trust me,” Van Helsing voice grated hoarsely. A sheen of sweat slicked his skin and Carl could see the hunter’s body shook with a fine palsy.

“Er...Gabriel...”

The eyes that the hunter turned to Carl were a vivid green and held a feral ferocity that made Carl’s breath catch. “Now, do it, Carl!” Van Helsing growled, his upper lip lifting to reveal rapidly descending fangs.

“Oh God!” Carl yelped and blindly turning, darted at the Chimera, dodging its swiping paw to lunge at the wall to the right of it. The heads turned to watch him, both paws swept inward as the monster reared, attempting to gather him up in its claws. Carl fell back against the rough stone wall, his wide blue eyes darted to Van Helsing, and he gasped.

Forgotten by the Chimera, the hunter’s head was thrown back as his body jerked and then seemed to stretch before splitting asunder. From out of the collapsing husk of his lover, a massive wolf-like beast emerged, shaking its black glistening pelt of fur as if to rid itself of the last distasteful vestiges of humanity. It stood on its hind legs, its front legs ended in dark tapered fingers with blood red claws. From its back, tremendous black leathery wings emerged with a tearing sound and the wolf snarled, snapping its jaws at the air.

It turned immediately upon the Chimera, dropping down onto all fours to gather its muscles in flexing bunches before springing up into the air. The wings flared out, cupping the air in an explosive retort before folding to send the beast diving on the 3-headed monster.

Only the snake’s head left the pursuit of Carl to look back at the noise behind it, and it was this head that the werewolf attacked, landing on the Chimera’s back, its jaws darted forward to fasten on the scaled neck. With a snapping shake, the jaws tightened and tore the snake from the Chimera’s body amidst a fountaining gout of black blood.

Now the other two heads turned to face their attacker, the lion’s jaws gaped to bathe its own back in fire as the goat’s head shrieked and spat smoke.

Within the billowing clouds of greasy smoke, Carl saw the were spring into view, its wings stroking the air with thunderous retorts as it reoriented in midair, then dived at the lion’s head.

The Chimera dropped and rolled, trying to bring its massive claws to bear as it continued to spit fire and smoke, leaving Carl to peer into the obscuring clouds pulsing with red fire, trying to pierce the murk so that he could tell who was winning.

The noise was tremendous and the friar shuddered to hear the obvious sounds of bloody agony in the roared death keenings. He prayed that those noises did not come from Van Helsing.

Sidling away, he put several yards of distance between himself and the two monsters, his arms folding about himself in a fierce hug as the sounds of battle slowly ebbed, then died. The corridors were thick with choking smoke and the scent of blood and charred flesh. Small fires, feeding on nauseating clumps of fuel that Carl didn’t want to look too closely at illuminated the corridor in a flickering red light.

He heard the sound of something moving, of hoarse, heavy breathing. A dark shape appeared as a shadow within the clouds and Carl steeled himself, his fingers clenched on the brown stuff of his robe over his ribs until he heard the material tear. His eyes strained to make out the shape and he caught his breath in a half-realized groan of gratitude as the werewolf slid out of the haze.

The beast approached him on all fours, its wings flexing along its back, its red jaws hanging agape as it panted in loud hoarse gusts that made Carl’s robe flatten against his body and his hair fly about. He forced himself to stand very still, holding his own breath, his eyes never leaving the green gaze. It walked with its head hung low, ears flat, muzzle wrinkled to reveal stained fangs. He could hear the scrape and click of its claws on the gritty stone and shivered.

It walked slowly, wary in its approach, until it stood before him, its face level with his own. He could see its wet nose move as it scented him, see the gleaming whiskers twitching on the soft flesh of the muzzle that wrinkled to reveal fangs and then relaxed when it thrust its great black head forward until the questing nose was no more than inches from his body.

Swallowing harshly against the sandpaper dryness of his throat, Carl forced his arms to move from their self-protecting hug, allowing one to drop to his side and the other to lift slowly outward, hand extended. He was shuddering so hard his breath emerged in ragged gasps, the memory of Anna’s body was firmly fixed in his mind as he reached out toward the wolf.

For a moment, he saw the muzzle flicker again and a rumbling growl emerged as the wings lifted and extended fully, curling forward so that they almost surrounded Carl, and then folded.

With a huff of hot moist air that blew Carl’s hair back, the wolf leaned forward and pushed its head under Carl’s hand, then sank down onto the ground, laying its head on his feet.

Carl blinked, his mouth falling open in an “o” of surprise, and he felt his knees give way to dump him ungracefully onto the ground beside the wolf. The monster’s eyes rolled over to fix on him with a look of almost brotherly commiseration. He found his hands, without his conscious volition, moving to touch and stroke the glossy black pelt, grimacing when he felt wet patches that stained his hands red.

“Oh Gabriel,” he sighed, and leaned forward, sliding his arms about the muscular neck to press his face into the dark fur. He heard the start of a rumble welling up within the massive chest, and then it dimmed and stopped and only the wolf’s panting remained.

vv

Carl lay beside the werewolf for some time, taking comfort in the warm fur and the heat of its body. Occasionally, the wolf’s wet rough tongue would flick out to lick his arm and he would rub his face in the fur on the great neck beneath his cheek. He wasn’t sure how much of Gabriel remained in the beast, but it hadn’t killed him, he had to assume a fair amount. He knew that the hunter would be appalled at Carl’s hit-or-miss outlook on life but he really didn’t see that there was any other alternative.

When the wolf moved, struggling up to its feet, Carl reluctantly rose as well. Despite the teaming hordes that they had encountered on their way through the catacombs, it struck Carl that nothing was likely to accost them now. He began to wonder if there was anything in the catacombs as bad as a hybrid werewolf with the intelligence of a vampire and suspected there was not. Shivering, he lay his hand on the beast’s hot fur and winced as the great head swung about so that the green gaze could fix him. This close, looking at it in the eye, he had to admit that it was truly a horrific beast. As if sensing his thoughts, the were’s gaze dropped as did its head.

With a huffing sigh, it led the way, padding on all fours through the carnage that littered the corridor. Carl kept his eyes resolutely up and straight ahead, his hand firmly anchored in the were’s fur, ignoring the disgusting squelching beneath his sandals. None of the heretofore multitudinous beasts appeared to block their way, for which Carl was profoundly grateful. They collected Gabriel’s crossbow and his own tojo gun–he managed to balance them with the help of a sling on the back of the were–an indignity that it seemed to suffer with resigned grace.

“Well, it makes better sense this way,” he admonished it, noting its flattened ears and flickering muzzle. “Don’t worry, I can release them easily if we have to fight. And you really do have the better build for this sort of thing.”

A huff of moist hot air that blew his hair back in a frenzy was the only reply made. Absently, he patted the dark fur, threading his fingers through it again. “All right, then. I suppose we’d best press on?” He held the retrieved torch high to light their way and together they stepped out.

Their gritty footsteps and the snapping noises of the flames consuming the wood brand he held aloft were the only sounds now. Evidently, bad news like Gabriel spread fast, even among monsters. Carl couldn’t help but agree as he nervously paced the were, watching its massive head move to and fro, lifting to scent the air, a low rumbling growl constantly thrumming through its body and filling the air with the feeling of suppressed thunder.

“A..are we far from the doorway now?” he whispered, not wanting to disturb the delicate balance they seemed to have struck between themselves and the denizens of the catacombs. The were made no answer, but it did pick up speed slightly, forcing Carl to jog. “Ah...I’ll take that as a yes,” the friar panted and clung more tightly to the black fur.

They emerged from the claustrophobic confines of the corridor into a large open area and Carl winced as he saw the literal hordes assembled, waiting silently. There were beasts everywhere he looked, their glowing eyes and parted jaws flickering in the torchlight as they stood waiting, facing the pair that emerged from the tunnels. Looking at them, Carl recognized the beasts he had personally fought, both on the ground and from the top of the Borgia Tower. And there were others, hybrids much more exotic than Gabriel’s mutation, to which he couldn’t even begin to put a name.

They all waited, silent, still as grave markers, ignoring one another as they watched the were slowly lead Carl into the great chamber. He could feel the dark fur beneath his hand grow harsh, spiking outward while the great leathery wings unfurled, covering them both. He shivered as the leathery skin of the wing touched his cheek and he found it cold as death. Carl wondered if the beasts recognized the were as an outsider or if they believed he was one of their own.

They paced forward, and as they approached the waiting ranks, the Hell beasts rose and backed away, watchful, wary, not retreating but not offering any sort of a fight either. Why should they? He and Gabriel were going where the master of these beasts wished them to go–to Hell itself. He suspected that their departure would not be so uneventful.

He could feel his skin prickling within the miasma of evil, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck rose and his body grew cold as the blood retreated to nourish and fuel his organs and muscles for the coming battle. He stayed close to Gabriel now, pressed firmly against the were’s side, welcoming the wing that curled about him. As the monsters parted, he began to see that the chamber was lit, the source of the light becoming apparent as they progressed.

It was a massive crack in the ground, like a ruptured boil from which spilled an actinic light that seared his eyes. Squinting at it, he marveled at the heat that poured from it, wondering how they would approach. He could feel his skin shrink from the thought, but the were still paced forward and he followed, now welcoming the cold of the leathery wing against his burning flesh.

They got within a dozen feet of the crack when Carl gasped with actual pain and the were stopped, turning its head to look at the man with a thoughtful gaze. Then the were was rising and Carl fell back as the beast stood erect on its hind legs, looking down at him with its head cocked slightly to one side, its wings beating rhythmically, summoning a whistling wind that stirred the dust of the chamber into whirlwinds and caused Carl’s hair and robe to flap about violently. Carl squinted up at the green eyes, waiting breathlessly.

In one motion, the were stooped, catching the man up within its muscular forelegs, pulling him into its hirsute chest as the wings cupped the air and lifted them. With a clap like thunder striking, they were suddenly arrowing over the heads of the assembled monsters with a velocity that made the hot close air scream within Carl’s ears. And then they were out of the main chamber, the heat of Hell’s doorway falling behind and the sound of the horde pursuing them now loud in the confined corridor.

The were’s wings stroked strongly, never faltering, its head was angled forward, its body with Carl held close, streamlined beneath the wings so that the air slipped over their bodies as they cut through it. Carl risked one look below them and moaned, shutting his eyes against the flowing grey blur of stone and broken floors. The were banked, angling around corners like a snake, and always behind them the roar and pounding of their pursuers. The friar prayed fervently that Gabriel’s careening course didn’t end up at a dead end.

He didn’t know how far they’d come, nor what direction they followed. He was only aware of the thunder of the wings above them, the flexing of the muscular chest against his body, and the sound of the horde beneath them.

When they broke out of the catacombs and into the great hall of the Palace, Carl gasped with a shock that struck him like a physical blow. The armies of the Vatican were below them, facing the entry to the catacombs. They fell back in the wake of the were like scattering chaff, then regrouped as the horde poured out like blood from the darkness.

Carl had time to register an ear popping vacuum as the were abruptly back-winged, hovering over the astonished faces of the men below for a split second, and then the friar was falling, curling into as tight a ball as he could compact his body into, feeling himself strike the softness of flesh and the hardness of metal. His descent bowled over the ranks of men at the back of the hall and he winced and groaned with each impact. Almost before he had settled, though, he was forcing himself up onto his feet in time to see the were shake itself, dislodging the weapons from its back, and then the wings beat again to throw the were into the midst of the fighting.

“Don’t shoot it! It’s a friend!” Carl cried, waving his arms in horror as he saw weapons raised to sight the new enemy that had appeared in their midst. “Don’t shoot for God’s sake!”

He heard his words repeated in shouts that raced through the great hall even as he felt the familiar bulk of the automatic crossbow being pressed into his hands. He accepted it blindly and ran forward, groaning as he felt the stitches in his belly and shoulder pull and stretch with a vengeance. Throwing the crossbow to his shoulder, Carl sighted on the first monster he saw and fired, wincing again as the crossbow kicked back against his shoulder even as he crowed with exultation to see his bolts stitch across the monster’s exposed chest, downing it immediately.

Above him, he heard the were’s snarls and the snapping of its jaws, a red rain of blood and hurtling bodies a testament to the ariel battle he couldn’t afford to watch.

They fought the horde for what felt like hours; always, Carl was aware of the were above him, guarding him, fending off the attackers that would have plucked him up from the ground. Benerd found Carl, appearing at his side with the tojo gun and a grim expression. Carl smiled at the monk, grateful for his presence as the man sighted and fired almost continuously. Men fell all around them, and they were always replaced with new grim faces that pushed forward, driving the horde back into the catacombs until at last only the much-diminished army of men stood swaying on the blood soaked stones of the great vestibule. The dark mouth of the catacombs had swallowed the horde again and the massive doors were closed and bolted.

Carl looked up then, frowning when he didn’t see the were above him. He’d lost track–a seeming impossibility given the bulk of the creature, but now he cast about them uneasily, growing more frantic with every second.

Catching at the shoulder of Benerd’s robe, Carl hauled on it, dragging the white-faced monk about to face him. “Benerd...where is Gabriel?” Carl gasped.

“Gabriel?” Benerd blinked stupidly for several agonizing seconds before awareness filtered into the bemused blue gaze. “Ah...I...I believe he went...” Benerd pointed, down the hallway leading to the Order’s sleeping chambers.

Carl spared a quick smile of thanks before he turned and ran, pushing his way through the crowd, ignoring the sound of his name being called from all over the hall. He broke through and lengthened his stride, pushing himself as he pelted down the hallway, sandals slapping rhythmically on the stone floor, his breathing loud and labored.

He slid up to the door of his chamber, catching at the latch like an anchor, throwing it open and himself into the room. His darting eyes immediately registered the sight of Van Helsing, lying naked on his bed, white and still as death.

Thrusting the door shut behind him, Carl bolted it, then approached the bed to sink heavily onto it at Van Helsing’s hip. His hand trembled when he raised it and he looked at it stupidly for a moment before mentally shrugging and settling it on the cold skin of the hunter’s belly. Gently, he stroked the soft skin and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the rise and fall of Van Helsing’s breathing.

Toeing off his sandals, Carl swung his legs up onto the bed and with a weariness made grateful with relief, he snuggled up against Van Helsing, laying his head on the strong shoulder, his hand over the thudding heart, and closed his eyes. They would sleep now, there would be plans made later now that they had the information they needed. Now, all Carl wanted for himself and the man he loved was rest and the security of their arms about one another.