A/N: NEW STORY! First AU story, btw. I decided to write this partly because I really wanted to write a vampire story, and partly because I couldn't not write it. I really am not sure where I'm going with this one, so it's going to an adventure! With fangs! (God, I have had too much caffeine today...)

DISCLAIMER: Even though this is an AU, I own no one in this story. *shrugs* Sorry...

How The World Ends

Prologue: All Alone Now

At first, all he saw was darkness. Then, the closed fist swooped in out of nowhere, crashing into his face and snapping his head back.

Dave felt rather than saw the blow; both of his eyes had swollen shut and what little vision he still possessed was hindered by the blood trickling from the various gashes on his face. He wasn't sure what the extent of his injuries were—the pain was too widespread at this point to trace to any one source—but he was pretty sure that he looked like something out of a horror film.

Appropriate, since by all intents and purposes, he was something out of a horror film.

Guess it's about time that I started looking like a monster…the big man thought to himself. Considering that I AM one…The mental observation sounded so much like one of Mickie's bitter remarks that for a moment, Dave forgot his situation, a raspy chortle of almost-laughter bubbling up from deep within his massive chest.

"What's that, big guy? Had enough yet?"

At the mocking sound of his tormentor's voice, Dave felt his transient amusement shatter into tiny shards, replaced by a cold hard ball of anger that sat in his stomach like a weight. There were two of them, circling around him like a pair of vultures. Faint shadows at the edges of his vision who periodically dove in to deliver more physical and psychological punishment. They were the monsters, not him. He and his captors might share a few traits in common—a certain non-human status, for one—but Dave knew that he was nothing like them.

Sure, he had preyed on humans, and sure, in the beginning, he had taken a life or two. But he had never done it in pursuit of some depraved satisfaction; had never tormented others for the sake of a sick twisted delight—like these two obviously were. And because of his own stupidity, he was at their mercy, unable to defend himself—and unable to protect Mickie.

Now, thanks to him, she was once more in the clutches of the monsters, at the mercy of someone—something—far worse than this depraved duo.

The big man bowed his head a little, once again going over what little he could remember. He remembered Mickie, her golden brown hair tucked up under her black cadet cap, a black scarf wrapped around her throat, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as they hurried down the darkened street toward the rendezvous point. He remembered getting this eerie feeling that they were being followed. The last thing he could recall before the needle pierced his neck, bringing with it unconsciousness, was a maniacal hoot of laughter, followed by Mickie's screams…

The next thing he knew, he was in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, chained to a steel support beam with thick iron manacles that must have been relics from medieval times—with those two sadists dancing around in front of him. At first, he had fought back, snarling and snapping at them like a wild animal when they tried to get close. But then Mike—or "Miz", as the little bastard preferred to be called—had picked up a lead pipe, swinging it gleefully at Dave's skull. And while the big man sat there, dazed and reeling from the blow, Miz's partner, Morrison, was able to dart in with a pair of pliers, using the tool to rip out both of Dave's canine teeth.

That was the closest Dave came to breaking, feeling the nerves snap with that first abrupt yank. The agony had been indescribable; he'd been unable to keep himself from roaring in pain. Miz had flinched, but Morrison had been unfazed, moving back a step and tilting his palm down, allowing the two bloody teeth to drop from his hand to the concrete floor. Dave could still remember precisely what he had said, the cold neutrality of his voice as he spoke:

You love the humans so much, Dave. Maybe it's time you learned what it's like to be one.

That was perhaps the last clear memory he possessed. Everything else had faded into a dull haze of punches and kicks and taunts, mingled with the ever-present pain. How long had it been since then? Minutes? Hours? Days? Time, a quantity which had ceased to concern him a long time ago, had now taken on a sense of extreme importance. What happened to him didn't matter; his body had been built to endure, immortality had made him almost indestructible. If he made it out of here, his wounds would heal—his fangs might even grow back.

But Mickie, on the other hand…Despite her tough exterior, despite everything she had survived, the flesh and blood surrounding her fiery soul was still only human. Unlike him, her time would eventually run out—and if he didn't find her soon, it would slip from her even faster. The last few grains of sand would slip through her hourglass, and then…nothing. The life, the fire in her eyes that had drawn him to her in the first place would drain away, leaving only a husk of skin and bone that had once been a human being.

Just the thought of it, the existing possibility that it could happen, was enough to evoke a low groan from the big man. Almost immediately, he sensed a presence at his side, hot fetid breath that reeked of blood and rotten meat hitting his face, followed by a voice: "You know, you could make things a lot easier for yourself if you just told us where they are."

Dave didn't answer; didn't even lift his head. He was pretty sure that the voice belonged to Miz; he'd always hated the little bastard. If their positions had been reversed, he would have started with the pliers, using them on a few of Miz's more tender extremeties before moving on to his fangs. The big man gritted his teeth, his tongue unconsciously poking the bloody holes where his own, slightly longer canines had formerly resided.

He heard Miz shift his body, moving around to face him. Dave was glad, for once, that he couldn't really see anything; at least he didn't have to watch that piece of shit gloat. Miz continued. "Tell us where the Hunters are—Cena and the others. Tell us what they're planning, and all this—" Dave had a sense of Miz spreading his arms out wide. "This pain, this suffering—it could end. You could walk out of here…while you're still able to walk."

The big man slowly lifted his head up, peering at Miz without really seeing him. "Where is she?" he slurred, his deep voice almost uninteligilbe.

Miz clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Still pussy-whipped by that mortal bitch, aren't you?" He let out a laugh that was completely devoid of humor. "Don't worry about Miss James…Mel's taking good care of her for you." Miz leaned closer, until his nose bumped against Dave's. "Now…I'm gonna ask you again—where are they?"

Dave spat in his face, a wad of blood and saliva that dripped down Miz's cheek. "Fuck…you…" the big man snapped. He stopped, exhausted by the effort, his chin dropping back down to his chest again.

Miz's face twisted in fury and he swiftly brought his hand up, palm turned inward, preparing to deliver a backhand. However, just as he was about to unleash the blow, he paused, his features relaxing. He leaned down, patting Dave gently on the cheek instead. "Sorry to disappoint you, dude," he replied, his tone taking on that note of bright maliciousness once again. "But you're not my type." Miz straightened up, turning back toward his partner. "You want to take a turn here, Morrison? My arm's getting tired." As he talked, he wiped the blood and spit from his face, using it to reinforce the small mohawk adorning the top of his head.

Dave heard the light scrape of boots on cement as Morrison came toward him, and braced himself for the inevitable blow. But by the time the first punch rocked him, the big man was already gone, his mind travelling back to a time, a place, a lifestyle that now seemed like a distant memory.

Being a vampire used to be so easy…Dave mused to himself.

Steer clear of the Hunters unless you want to end up a trophy…

Stay away from the humans unless you need to eat…

Don't kill unless you want to get caught…

Don't draw attention to yourself…

Most importantly, don't fall in love…because not even love lasts forever…

He had made up those rules himself, and had followed them with the assumption that he would never need to break them. Would never want to break them.

Life had been so simple…and then he met her.