Rain pattered against the windows of Bobby Singer's house.
Trevor Belmont sat alone in the cluttered library, surrounded by stacks of ancient books.
The room smelled of old leather, dust, and the faint metallic tang of protective sigils painted beneath the floorboards.
Trevor rubbed his eyes, gritty from hours of reading texts on Aztec deities and blood curses.
The lamp beside him cast a warm circle of light that failed to reach the room's corners, leaving them in shadow.
Outside, dusk was settling, transforming the salvage yard into a labyrinth of twisted metal silhouettes.
He reached for his beer - cheap, American, and barely cold - taking a swig before returning to a particularly dense passage about Tezcatlipoca's curse marks.
The text blurred before his eyes.
"Useless," he muttered, pushing the book away.
The house felt unnaturally quiet with Kate, Dean, Elena, and Jeremy gone for groceries - an excuse, Trevor knew, to get the kids outside for a while.
Adam was napping upstairs, leaving only John and Bobby somewhere in the house, likely poring over their own research.
Trevor stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. He paced the length of the library, rolling his shoulders to release the tension that had settled there.
His fingers traced the spines of books as he passed - grimoires, bestiaries, journals from hunters long dead. So much knowledge, yet nothing that could help them find Lucien.
His mind drifted to the night Lucien left, one month ago. The memory was still sharp, painful in its clarity.
"If you're determined to go, at least take me with you," he said, "I joined you all to kill Dracula, anyway. I'm not part of the family kid, you don't need to protect me."
Lucien had paused then, looking back at Trevor with eyes that seemed too tired for his young face.
"You haven't realized it yet, have you?" Lucien had asked, his voice soft, "Despite how short you've been with us, you've already risked your life, and helped us time and time again, without asking for anything back. You've already become part of this family."
The words had struck Trevor.
Family.
How long had it been since he'd had one of those? Since his father and sister...
Trevor shook his head, banishing the thought. He took another swig of beer, grimacing at its warmth.
The only contact they'd had with Lucien since that night was a single phone call to Dean, brief and cryptic.
Trevor had been there when it happened, had seen Dean's face transform from hope to distress in seconds.
"I'm safe," Lucien had said, his voice different somehow - more mature, more resolved. "I need you to let me go. I can't be with you while this mark is on me."
Dean had argued, demanded, finally pleaded, but Lucien remained firm.
When the call ended, Dean had hurled the phone across the room, then put his fist through the drywall.
John had gone cold and silent, a more frightening reaction than any outburst.
Kate had simply wept, quiet tears that seemed endless.
Trevor drained his beer and crushed the can in his fist.
Standing still wasn't helping. He needed to check on John and Bobby, see if they'd made any progress.
As he moved through the house, he noticed the small signs of the family that now lived here - Elena's sketch pad on a side table, Jeremy's jacket hung carelessly over a chair, one of Adam's toy cars abandoned in the hallway.
Trevor slowed as he approached the study, hearing the low murmur of voices. John and Bobby were deep in conversation, their tones serious.
He paused outside the doorway, his enhanced Belmont hearing allowing him to catch their words clearly.
"-still don't understand why they targeted him specifically," Bobby was saying. "The Fates, I mean. What did the kid even do that they'd want him dead?"
Trevor froze, his breath catching.
"He changes things, Bobby," John replied, his voice weary. "Things that should be fixed. He's outside their plans, altering destinies that were supposed to be set in stone. At least that's what Lucien told me."
"And that's why they blocked his future sight? Because he was using it to change things?"
"That's my guess. They couldn't control him, so they blinded him instead."
Trevor's mind raced, connecting pieces of information he'd gathered about Lucien.
The strange power, the jaguar mark, the gods' interest, Dracula's pursuit... and now this. The Fates themselves had tried to kill the boy?
"You ever wonder," John continued, his voice dropping lower, "if everything that's happened - Mystic Falls, the curse, Katherine, all of it - was their doing? The Fates striking back?"
Trevor had heard enough.
He stepped forward deliberately, making his presence known. John and Bobby fell silent immediately, turning toward him with identical expressions of caution.
"What about the Fates?" Trevor asked directly, his voice cutting through the sudden tension.
John and Bobby exchanged glances, clearly reluctant to share.
After a long moment of silence, just standing there, Trevor approached the table where they sat, pulled out a chair, and lowered himself into it. He placed his hands flat on the wooden surface, leaning forward.
"I've been trying to be understanding," he began, his voice measured. "Not pushing, since everyone has their secrets - hell, I have family secrets of my own. I can respect that."
John's expression remained impassive, but Bobby shifted slightly in his chair.
"But I'm trying to help find the kid," Trevor continued. "All of us are. If I don't have all the facts, I can't possibly help. And believe me, I want to help, because believe it or fucking not, I really have grown to care for the kid over the short time with you all."
The admission hung in the air between them. Trevor hadn't meant to reveal that much, but there it was.
"You don't need to tell me everything," he added after a moment. "But something like the fucking FATES being after the kid, and that he apparently can see the future and alter destiny itself? That's something I just HAVE to know to be able to help. So just tell me- tell me at least what I need to know."
John studied Trevor's face silently, searching for any sign of deception. The only sounds were the rain against the windows and the distant ticking of a clock somewhere in the house.
Finally, John sighed, taking a swig of his beer.
"Fine," he said. "We'll tell you what we can - not everything, since there are things that are still... too big to talk about."
Trevor nodded, accepting the limitation. "I'm listening."
John glanced at Bobby, who gave a slight nod of encouragement. John cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to share.
"When Lucien... came into his abilities," John began, choosing his words carefully, "Death visited him."
Trevor froze.
For a moment just... processing.
Suddenly, he stood, slamming his hands down on the table.
"Death? Death, the Horseman?!"
John and Bobby tensed, then relaxed when they realized it was just shock - hunter instincts making them immediately ready for an attack. John nodded slowly, taking another drink from his beer.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "Lucien and him had quite the conversation. We couldn't hear or see all of it, but Death said Lucien's quite the important person in apparently the fucking universe, something to do with life itself and that he will be in danger from monsters too."
When Trevor took that in, he fell back into his chair, feeling as if all strength had left his body. His mind raced, pieces clicking together with dizzying speed.
Outside of Fate...
The Fates hunting him...
Future sight...
So much light and warmth that he had always felt around the boy, besides when in battle, when there was the cold of darkness...
And that deep ache in his heart yearning to protect the kid, that instinct that had confused him from the beginning...
"The Son of God," Trevor muttered, the words barely audible.
John and Bobby exchanged confused glances.
"What did you say?" John asked.
Trevor threw his head back and laughed - a sound without humor, tinged with hysteria. He covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking.
"I get it," he said through his fingers. "I finally fucking get it!"
Bobby leaned forward, concern and intrigue mingling in his expression. "What you gettin', boy?"
Trevor's laughter gradually subsided into chuckles. He reached for his beer, and with a single long swing, he drained it completely, then slammed it back onto the table.
"Since you told me a family secret," he said, "I'll tell you one of my own."
He paused, gathering his thoughts. This was information he'd never shared with outsiders before - no one who hadn't found about it by themselves.
"My family is... from a long line of chosen warriors by God to protect prophets," Trevor revealed. "And I, since I laid eyes on the kid, for the life of me couldn't get why- why I felt just so... Protective of him. At first I thought it was just me and my morals, and sure, that is most certainly a great part of it, not wanting an innocent kid mauled down by fucking Dracula and all that."
He leaned forward, instensity radiating from him.
"But now - now it all makes sense. The kid isn't just a kid, but a prophet of God, and not just any fucking prophet - but a Son of God!"
John and Bobby were visibly surprised by Trevor's revelation about his family, but seemed to file that information away for later consideration - especially since they both despite not being the most devout believers, did believe in God.
Bobby cleared his throat.
"You're wrong," he said bluntly. "We already know what Lucien is. We can't tell you - but the kid ain't no prophet."
John shot Bobby a pointed look at that piece of information - not having wanted to reveal to Trevor such a thing, as them having the knowledge.
Bobby merely shrugged, taking a swig of his beer.
John turned back to Trevor. "Bobby's right. We know what he is. Death kind of told us. Lucien isn't a prophet, and he most definitely isn't God's son." His voice hard for a moment voice before it softened slightly. "Lucien is my son."
Trevor fell silent for a moment, just sighed as he then, without warning, reached across the table and grabbed John's beer, since his own is empty and took it.
"Hey!" John protested as his drink was stolen.
Trevor didn't put his mouth on the bottle, just tilted his head back and poured the beer from above, drinking it entirely. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, beer having spilled down his chin.
"Be that as it fucking might be," Trevor said, "it doesn't bloody matter. The kid fits the profile."
He leaned forward, conviction in every line of his body.
"I have felt what it's like being around the kid, and he feels like light, warmth and life. And with Death himself talking about life- LIFE IT FUCKING SELF - when it comes to the kid, and Death isn't a person for no bloody small talk, anything and everything he says is relevant, important, and to the point about the situation.
Clearly Life and its components, light, and all are part of Lucien's abilities - it being why Death even came as you said so yourselves..." Trevor went silent for a moment, raising his head to look up at the ceiling, before lowering it, and putting his face into one hand.
"All of this- all of this bloody horse shit, added up together, makes me sure that the kid- that Lucien is a body capable of being a Vessel of God. And with that being the damn case, the universe doesn't bloody care if he is the Son of God or not, it will treat him like he is, with its laws and all.
It will simply do so because the thing it cares about and reason why it treats the 'Son' the way he is treated is because he is capable of housing God Himself, doesn't matter if the person isn't the literal 'Son.'"
John and Bobby's eyes widened.
If God existed - and after everything they'd seen, it was hard to completely dismiss the idea, making them believers themselves - then Lucien being capable of housing Him... It wasn't the most out there thing.
With him being cosmic fucking Balance and all.
Trevor saw the realization dawn on their faces and chuckled, a bit of hysteria creeping back into his voice.
"You know what the best part about this shit is?" he asked.
John and Bobby exchanged wary glances, clearly knowing they won't like it, but recognizing they probably needed to know whatever Trevor was referring to.
"What is it?" Bobby finally asked.
"I'll tell you something about Dracula," Trevor said, seemingly changing the subject. John and Bobby looked confused but remained silent.
"Dracula was once, long ago, loved so much by God that he was God's chosen warrior to protect his prophets," Trevor explained. "But then Dracula fell and became a vampire. The thing is, though-"
Trevor lowered his voice to a whisper, as if sharing a terrible secret.
"-Dracula is unaffected by anything holy. He still has God's protection - one of the most important parts of it being, Dracula always comes FUCKING BACK AND ALWAYS STRONGER THAN WHAT KILLED HIM.
Now, I've never seen or heard about Dracula dying and coming back after he became a vampire, but when he was a human... He was bloody unstoppable.
The ultimate hunter of the night."
Bobby and John remained silent, processing this information, taking it in, filing it away later, to ponder and stress over.
"That's... That's good to know and all, Trevor," Bobby finally said, "but what does that have to do with what we were talking about?"
Trevor stared at them incredulously. "Don't you get it?" He spread his arms wide, one hand still holding John's empty beer bottle.
"Currently, history is repeating itself," he said with a hysterical chuckle.
John and Bobby looked confused, prompting Trevor to elaborate.
"The Son of God," he explained, gesturing wildly, "loves a vampire so much, he is willingly feeding her his own blood!"
As understanding dawned on John and Bobby's faces, Trevor's laughter grew uncontrollable.
"Buahahahaha!" He fell backward off his chair, landing on the floor with a thud, but continued laughing, the sound bordering on manic.
"In trying to kill the monster who I see as the greatest of all, the ever-returning Dragon," Trevor gasped between fits of laughter, "I have allowed the creation of another right under my bloody fucking nose!"
John and Bobby could only watch in stunned silence as Trevor convulsed with laughter on the floor, the empty beer bottle rolling away from his hand.
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One Month Earlier
Lucien closed the door to his bedroom at Klaus's mansion, Katherine's hands in his, still trembling slightly.
Lucien took her with him and sat them both on the edge of the bed, watching her carefully.
The tension from what happened still hung between them.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
I hope you all liked Trevor and his conversation with John and Bobby - by the way, did you guys find it interesting?
I kind of hinted at this, with the misunderstanding of beings, thinking Lucien a prophet, or the Son of God, while making clear he actually isn't that, but, the important 'but', because he fits the profile of being able to House Chuck, he does get... treated the same in a sense.
Doesn't mean he necessarily will have the same life as Jesus is portrayed in Christianity, but, then what does it mean?
I'll leave that bit up to you guys to find out.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)