The porch light of the Gilbert house cast a warm glow against the gathering dusk.
John Winchester adjusted his collar, an unconscious gesture that betrayed his discomfort with social calls that weren't strictly hunting-related.
Beside him, Lucien stood perfectly still, his posture relaxed but alert, eyes taking in every detail of the two-story colonial home he'd visited once before for a study group.
"Remember," John said quietly, "we're here for information. Keep your eyes open, but don't reveal anything unless absolutely necessary."
Lucien nodded. "I know, Dad."
Through the Force, he could sense his father's concern radiating like heat from sun-warmed metal - not just the usual protective instincts, but something sharper.
John had developed keen instincts over decades of hunting, and those instincts were clearly on edge tonight.
Before his father could respond, the front door swung open, revealing a woman in her early forties with warm eyes that didn't quite match her tense smile.
"Lucien, good to see you again," she said with practiced warmth before turning to John. "And you must be Mr. Winchester. I'm Miranda Gilbert. Please, come in."
Lucien noticed the slight tremor in her fingers as she gestured them inside, the way her eyes darted past them to scan the street before closing the door.
Small tells that might have been invisible to most, but screamed caution to trained hunters.
The interior of the Gilbert home was familiar to Lucien from his previous visit, but he noticed details he'd missed before, then too worried about his Dad dying:
The barely visible protective symbols carved into the doorframe, the arrangement of mirrors that allowed views of all entry points, the strategic placement of iron decorative pieces.
"Grayson is in the kitchen finishing up dinner," Miranda explained, leading them through a hallway lined with family photographs. "Elena! Jeremy! Dinner's ready!"
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and two teenagers descended. Elena moved with natural grace, offering Lucien a smile, barely hiding the nervousness within - since she is worried about her parents intentions.
Jeremy followed with the typical slouch of a preteen who would rather be anywhere else.
"Hey, Lucien, good to see you again," Elena said.
"Hi, Elena, good to see you too." Lucien replied, able to sense what she is feeling through the Force.
Jeremy merely nodded, eyes already drifting toward what was presumably the direction of food.
"Dinner's ready," called a male voice from deeper in the house. "Come on in before it gets cold."
The dining room table had been set with careful precision - proper plates, folded napkins, water glasses filled exactly three-quarters full.
Dr. Grayson Gilbert stood at the head of the table, carving knife poised over a roast that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread.
"John Winchester," he said, setting down the knife to extend his hand. "I've heard good things about your hunting skills."
John's handshake was firm. "And I've heard you're one of the best doctors in the county."
"Please, have a seat," Grayson gestured to the empty chairs. "Miranda makes a pot roast that puts the diner to shame."
Lucien took the seat across from Elena, noting how Grayson's smile tightened almost imperceptibly when their eyes met.
"So," Miranda said as she passed a bowl of mashed potatoes, "how are you finding Mystic Falls? It must be quite different from your travels."
"It's... interesting," John replied diplomatically. "Lot of history for such a small town."
Grayson nodded, his knife slicing through the meat with surgical precision. "The founding families took great care to preserve our heritage. Some traditions have continued uninterrupted since 1860."
"The Founder's Day celebration is this Saturday," Miranda added. "The whole town comes out for it."
"Yeah, with boring speeches and people in old-timey costumes," Jeremy muttered, earning a sharp look from his mother.
"It's not boring," Elena countered, though Lucien noticed she didn't sound particularly enthusiastic. "The lantern ceremony is actually pretty beautiful."
"Lantern ceremony?" John asked, accepting the plate Grayson passed him.
"Yes, at midnight," Grayson explained, his voice suddenly strained. "We light paper lanterns and... release them from Founder's Hall. It symbolizes the... the..."
Lucien watched with fascination as Grayson's face reddened, the words seeming to physically catch in his throat. The doctor took a quick sip of water, his hand trembling slightly.
"It symbolizes the town's hopes for the coming year," Miranda finished smoothly. "The tradition dates back to the original founding."
"The Council takes the ceremony very seriously," Grayson managed to add.
John's eyes narrowed slightly. "The Council?"
"The Founder's Council," Miranda explained quickly. "Historical preservation society, essentially. Grayson serves as the medical consultant."
Lucien caught Elena studying his palm when she thought he wasn't looking.
Her eyes held questions she couldn't voice, her fingers absently rubbing her covered wrist beneath the table.
"Elena," Miranda said, clearly eager to change subjects, "how was the study session with Bonnie yesterday?"
"Fine," Elena replied, her voice carefully neutral. "Caroline couldn't make it, though."
The mention of Caroline caused a flicker of concern across Miranda's face. "I heard she's been out sick the past few days. Is she feeling better?"
"I don't know," Elena admitted. "She hasn't been answering texts."
The conversation shifted to safer topics, but Lucien remained acutely aware of the undercurrents flowing beneath the polite dinner talk.
Grayson barely touched his food, his gaze frequently drifting to Elena with an expression of poorly concealed anguish.
After dinner, the family moved to the living room for coffee and the apple pie Miranda had prepared.
Jeremy immediately claimed the armchair nearest the television, while Elena perched on the couch beside her mother.
Grayson remained standing, coffee cup clutched in hands that couldn't quite stay steady.
"John," he said after an awkward silence, "I understand from Lucien that you've traveled extensively with your work. You must have encountered some... unusual situations."
John set his coffee down carefully. "You could say that."
"Some matters in town require... specialized perspectives," Grayson continued, each word seemingly chosen with painful care. His eyes darted toward Lucien, then back to John.
Miranda touched her husband's arm gently. "Perhaps Elena could show John that collection of historical documents in the study? The ones from her grandfather's collection."
The request hung in the air, its true meaning transparent. Grayson wanted to speak to Lucien alone.
John didn't like it. His eyes met Lucien's, a silent conversation passing between them.
Lucien gave an almost imperceptible nod - I can handle this. John's jaw tightened, knowing that whatever information they came for this may be their best bet.
After a moment, he returned the nod, deciding to trust his son, especially because of what he knows of his capabilities - fifteen minutes, no more.
"I'd be interested to see that," John said, rising from his seat. "History was always more Sam's thing than mine, but I've picked up a few things over the years."
"Great," Miranda said, relief evident in her voice. "Elena, Jeremy, why don't you show Mr. Winchester your grandfather's collection?"
"But I was going to play my new game," Jeremy protested.
"Jeremy," Miranda's tone left no room for argument.
The boy sighed dramatically but stood. "Fine."
Elena hesitated, her eyes meeting Lucien's with clear concern. Unlike her brother, she understood something was happening.
"It's okay," Lucien said quietly. "We'll talk later."
She nodded reluctantly and followed her mother and brother from the room. John paused in the doorway, positioning himself where he could still hear if trouble started.
"I'll be right down the hall if you need anything," he said, the words carrying clear meaning to Lucien.
Then they were gone, footsteps receding up the stairs, leaving Lucien alone with Grayson Gilbert.
The moment John Winchester's footsteps faded, Grayson Gilbert's entire demeanor transformed.
His shoulders dropped as if released from invisible restraints, his hand flying to his throat as he drew a deep, shuddering breath.
He looked like a man who had been underwater for minutes and finally surfaced.
"It's-" he tested, voice hoarse. "The Council... the rituals... the sacrifices..." Each forbidden word seemed to amaze him as it passed his lips without resistance.
Lucien remained standing, alert and watchful as Grayson sank onto the couch, overwhelmed.
"Whatever you are," Grayson said, staring at Lucien with a mixture of fear and hope, "You're not a normal human that's for sure. Not vampire, witch, werewolf, god, demon or any other thing I know of. The binding spell doesn't account for you in it. I don't even know what to think of that..."
Lucien tilted his head slightly, revealing nothing. "What binding spell?"
Grayson laughed, a sound edged with hysteria. "The one that's kept me silent for twenty years. The one that physically prevents anyone in this town who knows from speaking about what really happens here to those who don't already know."
He leaned forward, urgency radiating from every movement. "Founder's Day is Saturday - two days from now. The full moon rises at 11:17 PM. Do you understand what I'm telling you? We have less than 48 hours."
"Before what?" Lucien asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"Before they sacrifice my daughter." Grayson's voice broke on the last word, his composure crumbling.
After a long moment of silence, the two staring down one another, Lucien moved to sit in the armchair opposite Grayson, his eyes never leaving the man's face. "Tell me everything, starting from the beginning."
Grayson took another deep breath. "I don't know if there is some fail safe, or if there is a specific amount of time I have, so I'm gonna explain as much as I can in as little time possible. Make sure to keep up, understand?"
At Lucien's careful nod, Grayson continued. "Mystic Falls wasn't founded in 1860 like the official history claims. There was an earlier settlement in the 1790s - the true founding. But something happened, something terrible."
His hands trembled as he continued. "The five founding families - Lockwood, Forbes, Fell, Gilbert, and Salvatore - they made a covenant. A sacrifice for prosperity and protection. It worked. The town thrived while others failed."
"And they've continued this covenant," Lucien prompted.
Grayson nodded. "Every year on Founder's Day, under the full moon, someone bearing the mark is... offered." He swallowed hard. "The jaguar is the symbol of Tezcatlipoca, 'The Smoking Mirror.' An Aztec deity the original settlers somehow... contacted."
"And Richard Lockwood?" Lucien asked, remembering the odd feeling the Mayor gave him.
"He's not just our mayor," Grayson's voice hardened. "In the ritual hierarchy, he's the High Priest. The Lockwood bloodline has always led the ceremonies - they have the werewolf gene in their family - it makes them especially attuned to lunar cycles."
Lucien leaned forward. "And the selection process? How are victims chosen?"
"The mark appears on those chosen by the entity they worship. Usually, outsiders, travelers passing through. The Council makes sure the disappearances don't raise alarms."
Grayson's face contorted with self-loathing. "I've signed death certificates listing accidents, animal attacks, overdoses - whatever story would close the case quickest."
"But Elena is different," Lucien observed. "She's not an outsider."
"No." Grayson's voice was barely audible. "She's not. That's what makes this so-" He broke off, reaching beneath his shirt collar with trembling hands.
He pulled out a strange egg-shaped black pendant on a chain. "They call it a Beherit. It's Syriac for 'Satan.'"
Lucien barely could keep his face controlled, 'Okay, what the actual fuck? Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. I'm not about to deal with a fucking Eclipse situation, am I?'
"Every founding family has one," Grayson continued. "The ritual doesn't just take a life - it changes the recipient." His voice dropped to a whisper. "They believe it turns them into gods."
"And you?" Lucien asked carefully, deciding to keep himself focused on the situation, take all the information and process what it all means later.
"I've only ever observed. My father forced me to watch when I was sixteen." Grayson's voice broke. "I've never... participated. I couldn't. But watching was bad enough."
He looked up, eyes haunted. "My father was... not human by the end. Not in any way that mattered. I never felt safe in my own home. The things he could do..." He shuddered at the memory.
"When he died, this passed to me," he continued, touching the pendant with obvious revulsion. "I've managed to delay my own... ascension... for years. Making excuses, finding loopholes."
"Until now," Lucien concluded.
"Last week, Richard told me to 'prepare for my ascension' on Founder's Day. That I something I can't have back will be forfeited, like all of them did as well."
Grayson's voice hollowed with horror. "Then two nights ago, I saw him in Elena's room. When I found the mark on her wrist the next morning, I understood."
"Your irreplaceable sacrifice," Lucien said softly.
Grayson nodded, his eyes watering for a moment till he rubbed them with his fingers. "I don't even know the full ritual. They only reveal that to you when it's your turn. All I know is that no marked sacrifice has ever returned."
Lucien processed this information, his mind working through implications and possibilities. "The ritual requires multiple sacrifices, doesn't it?"
Grayson looked up, surprised. "Yes. How did you-"
"It's logical," Lucien replied smoothly. "A transformation of that magnitude would require significant power."
"The primary sacrifice - the thing most dear to the person - is for the initiate's transformation," Grayson confirmed. "But there are... others. The ritual requires additional sacrifices - fuel, they call it - to power the transformation."
"And these additional sacrifices," Lucien asked carefully, "how are they marked?"
"They bear the mark on their palm instead of their wrist, if the primary sacrifice is a person that is. Lesser sacrifices." Grayson ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how many. It varies based on the power they're trying to achieve."
Lucien subtly adjusted his position, keeping his marked palm out of sight. "What happens if one of these 'fuel' sacrifices isn't available?"
"I don't know," Grayson admitted. "The ritual has never failed in living memory."
Both turned silent for a long moment. Lucien taking in all that was said, while Grayson forced himself to keep it together - as when he met Lucien for the first time he felt towards someone the absence of that binding.
He knows Lucien's family are hunters, as the Coucil themselves are supposed to be vampire hunters - this is his only hope.
"And what have you done to stop it?" Lucien suddenly asked, his voice taking on an edge.
Grayson flinched. "What could I do? The binding spell prevents direct action. Anyone who's tried to interfere in the past..." He trailed off.
"What happened to them?" Lucien pressed.
"They disappeared. Their families too." Grayson's hands clenched into fists. "The Fells lost their youngest son in 1987 when they threatened to expose everything."
Lucien rose from his chair, beginning to pace the room. "So you've done nothing. For years, you've watched as people were sacrificed."
"I've delayed my participation," Grayson defended weakly. "I've found excuses, created medical emergencies that required my attention elsewhere before the time of rituals."
"But you never tried to stop it," Lucien countered, moving behind Grayson's chair. "You never warned the victims. Never reached out for help."
"The binding spell-"
"Is clearly not infallible. No creation of a limited being is, whether they call themselves a 'god' or not." Lucien cut him off, his hands suddenly gripping Grayson's shoulders from behind.
The pressure was carefully calibrated - painful enough to make a point without causing injury. "You're speaking freely now, aren't you?"
Grayson winced but didn't try to break free. "Yes."
"For years, you watched other people's children die," Lucien said, his voice low and intense. "And only now, when it's your daughter, do you suddenly find the courage to seek help."
"Yes," Grayson admitted, his voice cracking. "I was a coward. I still am."
His shoulders slumped under Lucien's grip. "I've been telling myself there was nothing I could do. That fighting back would only make things worse."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "But seeing that mark on my daughter... I can't hide anymore."
Lucien felt the truth in Grayson's words through the Force - the genuine remorse, the desperate fear for his daughter, the self-loathing that had been building for decades.
Slowly, he released his grip and moved around to face the doctor.
"You did what you thought was necessary to protect your family," Lucien said, his tone softening slightly. "But now we need to do more than just delay."
Grayson looked up, surprise flickering across his features at the understanding rather than condemnation.
"Elena won't be sacrificed on Saturday," Lucien stated with quiet certainty. "Neither will anyone else."
"How can you possibly stop something generations of founding families couldn't?" Grayson asked, disbelief battling with desperate hope.
"Did all of them try to stop it? Or were most of them willing participants?" Lucien questioned with a raised eyebrow.
At this Grayson fell silent. Lucien, with a sigh, extended his hand.
Grayson hesitated, knowing that it meant to trust the boy, despite the fact that it was he who called him here.
In the end, he gathered his courage, and took the offered hand. Lucien covered it with his other one in a gesture of reassurance.
"We're gonna stop this, be sure of that Mr. Gilbert." Lucien gently reassured.
Grayson nodded absentmindedly as their hands unlocked, before his eyes widened in shock. "You're... you're marked too," he whispered, staring at the jaguar symbol on Lucien's palm.
A single tear tracked down his cheek suddenly.
Seeing this- seeing that he this time around not only was acting to save his daughter, but finally for the first time, was warning one of the ones supposed to be victims, there was relief.
Relief at finally acting.
He reached for Lucien's hand again, holding it again, desperately this time, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.
Do tell me how you found it.
So yeah, what do you think is going to happen?
Can Lucien actually handle this situation? Or is it too big, and they need to flee, or perhaps even die? Who knows.
I'm interested in your thoughts.
Well, hope to see you all later,
Bye!)