Disclaimer: We don't own Stargate: Atlantis, and we don't claim to – though it would be a very nice job to have. We are writing this fic for entertainment purposes only, and making absolutely no profits from this.

Summary: Vampire vs. werewolf. Showdown at midnight. Don't be late. AU

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence,

Pairings: Ronon/Teyla, John/Elizabeth

Title: Showdown

Author: twogirlrevolution (a.k.a. Dia.Dahling and fyd818)

Author's note (fyd): Hey everyone! Dia and I are each others' sounding boards and critics. So we decided to team up and write something. We're both major fans of Stargate: Atlantis and Stephenie Meyers' Twilight book series, so we decided to try to combine the two in an AU Atlantis fic (but not in an actual crossover, this is strictly Atlantis characters). We're both pretty psyched about this fic, so we hope you enjoy it! Thanks for checking it out!

Author's note (Dia): Hola! Dia here. I love fyd's stuff and love writing, so i thought we'd combine them! We've been friends for years, so we thought it was time to do something together like this. The fic is based on SGA and Twilight, but doesn't hold to the same rules. We're just making it our own. I think I speak for both of us when I say I hope you enjoy reading this half as much as we do writing it! Adios!




Part I

Ronon POV – The Werewolves

It's raining, again. I love the rain, particularly this light mist. There's something soothing about the sound, or even the feel of it. I especially like it when it rains on my patrol, so I can go out in it. Those who know about me – what I really am – tease me when I come back home. They tell me I smell like a wet dog. I can't argue with them, because I really am. A dog, I mean. I'm a werewolf, born into the job of protecting my pack and all other humans in the vicinity. I love my job. It's exhilarating, the power I have. But we in the pack always work very hard not to let that power go to our heads. The moment we get cocky, we die.

Our natural enemies are the vampires. We were born to fight them, to keep them off our turf. On my patrol tonight I've seen none, but I know they're out there. I can smell them. The scent stings: it's cold, and stinks like nothing else. It's unmistakable. One's crossed this path recently, coming along the border of our territory, but not crossing it. I growl softly in irritation – too bad they didn't cross. Then we'd have reason to go after them.

Time to come home, buddy. I'm next on patrol.

I wheel in place to run home. I'll pass Solen, my old friend, along the way somewhere, I'm sure. There are nine of us in all. We're a fairly large pack, but we have to be to counteract the vampires. When my father died, I took over as leader, the alpha. My second-in-command took over her position not longer after I did mine – hers came from sheer determination. She's the smallest in our pack, the most delicate-looking, but one of the best fighters. The best, really. I wanted to cede the pack to her, but law forbade it. It frustrates me, sometimes, our laws and customs. That was the old way. But we'd been taught to fight fair, and that's how we do things.

A flash of dull gold caught my attention, then vanished. Solen. I picked up my pace, officially allowing myself to believe I was off patrol. It didn't take me long to reach my house, a small, neat log structure nestled against the edge of the woods. The location kept me away from the vast majority of humanity, who knew me as Ronon Dex and nothing more. This way I could change into and out of werewolf form at leisure, and no one would realize. The other advantage this locale offered me was the proximity to the woods. If there was trouble with the vampires, I could be at the boundary line in less than five minutes.

I leaped the six steps onto the back porch, landing on two feet in human form. I turned to look out over the woods again, enjoying the sound of the rain on the porch roof a moment before I went inside. However, the door opened a moment before I reached it. I tensed for a moment; then relaxed when I saw who it was.

She stepped back into the house as I entered. I playfully tilted my head toward her, as if to shake out my long dreadlocks all over her. She neatly stepped around me and closed the door. "You smell like a wet dog," she teased. She stepped forward then and stood on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. "I missed you." She draped the towel in her hands over my shoulders. "How was your patrol?"

"Not bad. It's raining, though. Hopefully it will stop by morning." Unlike me, my beta hated the rain. Her patrol was always early in the morning, and she hated having to do it in the cold wetness. I dropped a quick kiss on top of her head and smiled. "I'm going to go take a shower quickly."

Teyla smiled. "I will make tea." She disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

I showered quickly, anxious to get back to her. I tossed the pair of old pants I wore to phase in and out over the drying rack in the corner, then went to the kitchen. I stopped in the doorway, propping my shoulder against the doorframe so I could watch Teyla. She was, in truth, far more than my beta. We'd imprinted on each other when she was sixteen and I was seventeen, making us soul mates – meant for each other for eternity. She was more than my fellow werewolf; more than my best friend; more than even my fiancée. Teyla was literally my other half – without her I was lost.

"I know you are there." Teyla didn't turn from the stove, where she had her hand poised over the teapot to pull it off the heat when it whistled.

I sighed. Going to stand behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist and rested my head on her shoulder. "Thank you, Teyla. But you should go home and get some sleep. Morning will come far too early."

The teapot whistled noisily, and she swiftly poured the boiling water into two cups. Then she dunked in two teabags, which she filled herself with tea herbs from her own garden. "I want to do this," she said at last when she turned to hand me my cup. "You've been taking on too many responsibilities for the pack lately."

I followed her into the cozy family room and folded myself tailor-style on the rug next to where she curled up by the fire. Though our natural body temperatures kept us warm no matter what the weather, Teyla and I still enjoyed being the stereotypical couple by the fireplace every now and then. "As long as those bloodsuckers are still around, I will. It's my responsibility to protect the pack." I reached out to touch her cheek, drawing her attention from her cup to me. "And, more importantly, you."

"The pack is always supposed to come first," she whispered. "We promised. . ." She trailed off and bit her lip. "Besides," she continued, "you know I can take care of myself."

"I know." I leaned back, giving her space again. "But. . . I need you."

Teyla smiled thoughtfully, warmly, at me. Her dark eyes, alight with love, beckoned me in to steal a quick kiss. She held me to her for a long moment, prolonging the kiss before she let go. "I need you, too," she confessed quietly.

As we sipped their tea, we continued to discuss the pros and cons of new strategies to beat the vampires. We were only able to come up with a few good ones – Teyla needed to go sleep since her patrol was in a few hours, and I needed to go to sleep because I was exhausted from mine.

I saw her off less than an hour later. She leaped off my back porch and into her werewolf form. I watched her run off into the darkness as I sent off a quick prayer for her safety.

As I went to bed that night, almost three in the morning, I wished the vampires would leave us alone so Teyla and I could get married. It hurt so much for her to leave me. . .for her not to be safe with me all the time.

Sleep brought nightmares, of the creatures with the red eyes and dripping fangs.


Part II

Elizabeth POV – The Vampires

It's raining. This isn't good. Here, when it rains for this long at night, it's usually sunny in the morning. And this really doesn't fair well for me. I'm a vampire, and those of us like me don't fair too well in the sun. Hollywood has really twisted the truth, our existence is not like the movies say. The sun doesn't hurt us, or anything such. We're not afraid of it, in the idea that if we go out in it, we will die. However, when we go out in direct sunlight, we sparkle like glitter, or diamonds. It's gorgeous, but it gives away our cover. I guess the sun myth began from the sheer fact that we try to avoid public in the daylight hours.

There are a lot of silly stories about us that cause a chuckle sometimes. Then again, there are also a lot of true ones that give us cause to fear. It's strange, if I really stop to think about it. Vampire myths have been around longer than vampires themselves. I'm a first-generation vampire, but that's not really anything to be super proud of in our rather exclusive community. Age doesn't matter: we're immortal, so I'm forever beautiful, forever young. My age status, however, makes me the leader of this little coven I've gathered. We all live together here and, if the common passerby were to walk into our house, they would immediately discern who we are. There aren't any coffins (another gratuitous liberty Hollywood took), but the walls are dark and the whole house seems decidedly – ominous. There isn't any particular reason why we went with this stereotypical vampire décor. It just feels right to all of us. It gives us an atmosphere where we can be ourselves.

There are six of us, making a large coven. We don't have any animosity among us, either. Vampires bond in a way that's mysterious to humans. We still have our quarrels, but there aren't any real problems among us. I probably enjoy our coven life more than anyone else. The men like this existence for the longevity – and, probably more than even that, the kick-butt skills. But not me. I like it for the family, togetherness, and communication. That's another thing that bonds us. We can – talk to each other inside our minds. It's pretty cool, and certainly helpful when we have to fight other covens, or any other enemies. But we, unfortunately, aren't the only ones with this capability.

Werewolves. Just thinking the word makes a chill run down my spine. They're lowly, mindless dogs whose only reason for existence is ours. And they hate us. Ugh! Their stench, their way of life, their hatred of us makes me sick! I would love to die right now if it assured even only one of their deaths. I hate them with a passion so strong. . .

What's that? I smelled something just then, with that gust of wind coming in through the open window in the living room. John, you got that? He's my number two, out in the woods on patrol; watching out for them.

Yeah, Elizabeth. I'm going. He thought this in a quick, choppy manner. He's distracted, focusing on the job at hand.

Be safe. Don't be afraid to call for back-up. I'm two minutes away. He's running. I can feel it. I'm the only first-generation known to exist, and that gives me special – abilities. We assume that's the cause of my ability to sense all my brothers and sister's positions. It's an upper hand against the enemy to feel where my brethren are without distracting conversation that could give away our positions.

I'm distracted again by my second. He's invigorated. I can feel that, too. John Sheppard, however, is the only person whose emotions I can feel. We once believed it to be a demonstration of our compatibility. That turned out to be a heartbreaking mistake. I love him deeply. He's one of my brothers. But our relationship didn't work out. I've often wondered "what if," in the dark of night while on a slow patrol, but that'll be a warm day in here.

Speaking of that, did someone turn the heater on? Sure, we're cold no matter how hot our house is, but we still hate bills. The windows are fogging, that's what made me think of it. No, it must be warmer outside. Where's that darn thermometer? Here. Forty degrees Fahrenheit in here and fifty-three out there.

Stupid night-rain.

I paced away from the thermometer and concentrated on John again. John, how's it going? It's been a while, now, and I can feel that he's getting frustrated.

Like you don't know. His response was quick, but only slightly snarky. At least he isn't too mad.

Calm down. You'll find them soon enough. And I truly believe he will, he's our best tracker. I shifted my thoughts to another in my coven. Lorne, you wanna join him?

Marcus Lorne now entered John's and my conversation, which was overheard by all. Uh – sure. He sounded like he was distracted, occupied by some other project, but I know he's alone in his room just a floor above me. But why—

I mean the both of us, Marcus. I smile wryly, though no one is around to see.

Oh, okay. Sure. Let's get 'em. A flood of excitement, joy, and passion filled his thoughts. He's a fighter, one of the best.

A thought occurred to me, and I paused mid-step. Why aren't you at work? I just realized it's time for him to be on the nightshift. He's the only one of us that has a steady job and we depend on it. Not so much for the money, but for – other things.

I took a night off. His thoughts were strong, meaning he's now beside me. A quick glance confirmed. Are they suspicious? I asked anxiously. I didn't want to have to move again. This is our land.

They're always suspicious. Marcus narrowed his eyes, shook his head, and took off ahead of me into the woods.

I followed. I smiled as I realized I'd forgotten how much I love this feeling. It's been almost a day since I ran this quickly. And, although I can remember everything since the outbreak that gave me this ability, I tend to forget the intrinsic passion for the wind blowing by my face at thirty miles an hour. This is my favorite thing about being a vampire.


Nothing. We found nothing. No one. The men are furious, but I'm strangely okay with it. We will find them. Even if we have to wait for them to come to us.

Morning will be here soon. Not that it really means anything to us: we don't sleep. Though I did try it once, not long after I realized what I'd become. At the end of eight hours, I was worn out from the effort. I never did sleep, though.

Everyone else gravitated to the living room to "talk," a regular pastime for us. Although we have conversations with each other almost every night, we always have something to say. Part of the bonding, I guess.

I count the days in my mind and scowl deeply. It won't be long before we have to feed again. Lorne, the one with the job, works at a high-security prison: on death row. I'm sure he has people on the inside, but he swears it's just him. Then again, he is on the inside, so it's possible. The night before an execution, he kidnaps the convict and brings them here. It took many years to get this established and it takes much work to keep it going. I don't know how he does it, but he hasn't been fired or arrested yet. He says he's just that good at doctoring the papers. All I know is, if it weren't for him, we would have to go back to tracking down murderers and rapists on our own. We won't kill innocents. That would give those beasts reason to hate us.

That would give us a reason to hate ourselves.

We do what we do because we must do it to live. And we are still good – people, for the most part. John was a police officer for a while, until people got suspicious. I was a firefighter, able to save lives more often than my coworkers because of my heightened senses of smell and sight. I had to be careful to stay away from the flames, though. Rodney is still a free-lance chemist on the existence-long quest to find a cure to this virus that binds us all together like this. Hopefully the cure will let us keep the perks, but eat real food.

One thing's for sure, though. No matter what happens to us, we will defeat the werewolves and we will win back our land.

If not: we'll die trying.

-To Be Continued-