A/N: I have been trying out something different over the last couple of months and this is the result. I always knew I wanted to write the story of Jensen and how he "turns" after being saved by Tru in the episode, Enough. If you don't know the story and mythology behind this notion, I suggest you stop by Doris Egan's blog – you'll find it somewhere if you search for it. Doris Egan was one of the writers for Tru Calling and on her blog she has relayed the plans the powers that be had for Tru Calling in the future. These being story plots and such, and one of them happens to be the transformation of Jensen after being brought back to life (in a sense) by Tru.

I will not go into much depth about it here, but if you wish to read more into it, go check out Doris Egan's blog.

What I wanted to convey in this story was the whole idea that someone could be so affected by a near death experience as to be attracted to death in a disturbing way. This means that this person would be transformed in such a way that they kill, or fall into a downward spiral.

I know this author's note is long but I really needed to explain that first before the story begins. Anyway, story is rated for much violence and violent themes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Tru Calling or any of its characters or story plots – they all belong to their respective owners. However, I am conveying in my own words what I think may have happened in future episodes.

With that said, let the games begin.

Blood Of A Stranger
Chapter One: Dissipate

His shadow was as graceful as the calm waves of the ocean under the grotesque quivering of the moon's glow. As he walked along the darken path he heard the eerie calling that dripped through his mind, and it all became clear to him what he had to do. He breathed easily with a fresh sense of clarity and all hesitations were drained from him after he expelled a dry gasp in the chilled night. He was guided from the sinister shadows and into the light of his first victim.

She was swaying gently with a brittle breeze that tangled her like a rough blanket. Her lengthy blonde curls bobbed as she leaned her frail frame against the rickety, broken fence. Her sky blue eyes were as distant as the heavy clouds above, an unspoken promise flickering with the passing moments between them. She hadn't noticed him yet; hidden within the reclining recesses that were the dark corners of the alleyway. He watched with hungry teal eyes, the anxiety crawling through his hands until they trembled with a nervous excitement.

He heard the whispered call yet again and this time he placed a foot into the moonlight, his sole crunching over a fallen, crisp leaf that had died not long ago. She looked up, startled, and pushed herself forward, her eyes darting frantically about her. He could hear her raspy breathing, heavy with a lain terror that pricked at her nerves curiously. He felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck and his arms pinched with a restless prickling. The voice called to him again and it echoed through his mind like a hollow whistle. He felt for the gun that forced itself against his stomach as it lay securely within his leather belt. Pulling it from its restraints carefully, he stepped wholly into the light of the moon, though he kept the metallic weapon hidden within the shadows.

He heard the gasp escape her lips and that was when he held it up to her, his hand shaking as he tightened the grip. He watched his knuckles whiten with a sickly drain of colour and he narrowed his eyes. The trigger was surprisingly easy to squeeze, not like he had thought it to be.

There was no scream, just the crumpling fall of her limp body. Her curls blanketed her pale face like a mask of pure gold, and with it hid the small hole that gaped in the middle of her forehead. Her deep blue eyes were the only things to pierce out from the tendrils of golden hair but they weren't blinking, not even moving with a flickering desperation. Rather, they were glazed over, washed with a crystalline liquid that resembled hot tears. But those tears, he knew, would remain forever. Even when she was laid to rest, her tears would never cease to flow, warm and wet like a hot rain in the evening of a balmy session of days.

He looked down on her mournfully, his own tears stinging his eyes from behind. He would not cry for her, this young woman with no name, because she was now in a better place. A place where he had been torn from selfishly after but a moment's peaceful sleep. It was like a soft dream of sweet release that he had violently woken up from. A disaster he felt ended a part of himself because he was drained of something, something vital. He had been ripped from a place he no longer held any memory of, but longed for with an intoxicating desire. In this place, he dwelt without having to haul the weight of his life around behind him like a dangerously heavy cloud, because this place was death.

And in death, there was no struggle to live. Just an ethereal silence that bordered on euphoria. That was what he longed for, and that was what he would have. One way or another.

She noticed it immediately. The subtle way he would not look into her eyes, the short sharp words that grasped her, his involuntary twitching that would not cease…all of these things she noticed just by looking at him through the open frame of the door. Still, he smiled genuinely at her through those lashes that grazed the soft skin under his cerulean eyes.

She relaxed, leaning her arm against the door tiredly. "Do you know what time it is?"

His smile didn't falter as his eyes searched her face, still not meeting her own curious orbs of hazel. "Does it matter? I needed to see you, Tru."

She moved her arm from the door, creating a passage through which he sauntered with a sweeping step. "Jensen…"

His black coat dragged on the soft floor and he turned to face her, his eyes innocent. "Sorry. I just…I couldn't sleep. Not without you knowing."

She frowned at this, concern etching onto her features with precise grace. "Knowing what?"

He leapt forward with a single step, silencing her with a finger over her lips. His eyes finally met hers and they softened as he leaned down. "Don't say anything. I don't want you to. I just want you to know that…"

She ducked away from his stature over her and staggered back, confusion creeping into her. "Jensen, what is going on? What happened to you?"

"I'm falling in love with you, Tru."

It lingered in the still air of her confined apartment, coiling around stray photographs of friends and family, around paintings that hung steadily from the walls, and around her shocked form, seeping into her mouth and making her gasp.

She stared after him as he wandered back over to the door, smiling with a relieved satisfaction that strangely haunted her. She watched as his mattered blonde hair bobbed its soft curls when he swung the door closed. She blinked. Hard. Then harder the next time. Anything to make those words disappear into the night.

She didn't want to be loved. Not like that. Not ever again. Not after the disaster that had been Luc. Not now. Not when she couldn't love him. But what had she expected? She and Jensen had been walking down that path for quite a few months. Did she think it was just going to lead to a dead-end? Then what? There would be another to hold onto for the next couple of months? No, she didn't want that either. She wanted somewhere in between. Somewhere she didn't have to choose between love and loss. Somewhere she could just be happy simply being.

She knew she couldn't love him like she had Luc. He was not Luc. He was merely…another. Someone else. A replacement, maybe? Luc had truly been her first. She could only hold onto his memory now, though it hovered faintly over her and had begun to fade.

But Jensen. He had come to her in a time of need. She needed healing, and so did he. They both had been heartbroken one way or another. She from loss and he from betrayal. It seemed to fit, like the broken fragments of a puzzle. But she had never wanted him to fall in love with her. She wanted him there as someone she could fall back on and trust in. A friend. Not a lover. Certainly not a soul mate. Not someone to love.

How was it they had come together then? Not even she knew. It was like magnetic force. Strong, pulling. Impulsive. Her lips had suddenly found his in a passionate lock that brought them ever closer. She had questioned herself about moving on from Luc. Was it wrong? Could she ever love somebody else the way they had loved?

No, she didn't think so now. It didn't seem right. There was just something about his disturbed appearance before that unsettled her this night. The way his eyes never directly met hers. The curious twitching. His words that seemed to die before her when he spoke. All except for those words…

I'm falling in love with you…

Anything but those words.

Those words hurt her, left her bleeding and screaming for an escape. She didn't want it. Not from him.

Jensen blew into his cupped hands, warming them as he walked briskly through the night. His long coat flailed behind him, flapping sharply in the cold wind. He had seen it in her face. She didn't feel the same way. She wasn't falling in love with him. She couldn't. Not after someone like Luc. He knew that. Still, it wouldn't stop him from trying.

After Lexi had betrayed him, Jensen felt vulnerable, like a part of him had been shamed. Tru made that all disappear simply with her words of strong comfort and support.

He didn't know when he had started to fall for her. It had just happened. He was relieved it was out now, out of his system and into the crisp air. Still, he couldn't make the image of Tru, shocked and completely unawares, dissipate from his mind. Her eyes had been wide with unexpected surprise, her mouth quivering with lost words. She hadn't said anything, just like he had wished, but now he felt he wanted her to. He wanted to know why it was she didn't love him like he did her. He wanted closure.

Shaking his head, Jensen cleared his thoughts and kept walking, lifting one foot up after the other monotonously like a motor. He just wanted to feel secure. He thought Tru could make him feel like that. Perhaps he was wrong.

He watched the receding figure fade into the darkness. His own blue eyes pierced through the shadows and trailed the damage left behind. He felt the sting at the back of his neck and pulled his brown leather jacket tighter around his body for warmth.

He wondered if it would snow soon. He liked to wake up after the snow had fallen, soft flakes lain on the stone as the sun pored down over it.

He looked towards the one room in the tall building looming above him that was lit by a pale wan glow. He saw the shadow of a figure walking across the window. She looked like a ghost in the icy night, hauntingly beautiful inside her secret abode.

Jack Harper knew she had not been alone that night. Someone had visited her in the early hours of morning, just when the frost was beginning to settle on the frozen buds of the crystal flowers.

He watched her on occasions, through her window at night when she least expected to be followed. His eyes traced her every movement, her perfect figure framed by her flowing dark curls. She haunted him, called him silently on the whispering winds so that she may not be alone at night. And he listened to her, coming obediently to her, though watching her from a distance. He didn't want to be too close. He knew he couldn't.

The moments wore on, thinning as the cold crept near and bit into his skin. He waited until the light of her room flickered and died before walking back home reluctantly. He didn't want to say goodbye, but he knew that soon she would be calling him again, and he would listen and come back to her.

A/N: Forgot to mention above, though I really think it's a given, but this story will ultimately be Tru/Jack, even if Jensen did confess he loved Tru in this opening chapter...just a little foreshadowing you those tuning in...