Disclaimer: Don't own PotC and such like. 'On Demon Wings' is a Bohren und der Club of Gore song.

Summary: Will's a vampire. Yay! That's as far as I really got...

Pairing(s): Jack/Will, Norrington/ElizabethAnnamaria (Woo! Femslash!)

Warnings for this chapter: Super AU-ness. Modern-like times. Blood. Um... Slash...?

AN: As based on a plot bunny the lovely Lydia NightShade and her AU vampy fic, 'The Curse of Sanity.'
I finally got around to writting up the rest of this chapter and the next. Enjoy!

On Demon Wings
Part One

The sun had made it's descent below the horizon and the waxing moon shone brightly against the glittering stars in the cool September sky. The nightlife of Port Royal buzzed like the busy workers of a beehive. The brothels and pubs were filled with sailors and newcomers to Port Royal, as well as the regulars. Of these newcomers, was one William Turner.

William Turner, or 'Will' as he preferred to be called by his lovers and/or victims, was not like the other young men that were currently patrolling the streets of the red light district. He was a blacksmith by birth, an aristocrat by lineage, cursed by chance, and an antique dealer by choice. But above all else, he was famished.

Alice Dumott could tell the soft click of custom made Italian shoes from a mile away. She could probably even identify the exact price and color. Alice got off her lamp post and straightened her skirt and fluffed up her bosom before facing who she hoped would be her next client. She smiled coquettishly at the man in his mid- to late-twenties.

His hair was a golden brown and his eyes were like Godiva chocolate. His skin was exceptionally pale against his black business suit. The suit had a Gothic quality to it--as if he was off to play Masquerade with the local DM. Altogether, he was tall, dark, and handsome.

He smiled back at her with vague interest.

'Lookin' for a good time?' Alice asked and sidled next to him.

'Perhaps,' he replied. He looked her over, his eyes lingering on her exposed neck. She was on the thin side and had stringy blond hair. She was not the prettiest thing Will had laid eyes on, but, for now, she would have to do. He gave her an amused smile and wrapped an arm around her waist. 'Let us find somewhere more private,' he said as he led her towards one of the back streets.

Alice opened her mouth to suggest one of the hotels, but something kept her voice from following. Slowly, she became less and less aware of where she was. Things seemed to get darker and more closed in. She barely noticed the supportive arm leave her waist. She sagged against the brick wall of building. Something flickering just out of sight caught her attention and she lazily looked at it.

Through the muddled waters of her mind, she recognized it as the light that hung over the backdoor of one of the more questionable bars. She watched the flickering light through blurring vision as her chin was tilted upwards; images of Tinker Bell floated through her mind. She did not even notice the pressure applied to the skin just above her artery.

A body crashed through the back door of the bar.

Will reluctantly pulled away from Alice's neck. That was the problem with today's world: too many people and not enough plagues. How was he supposed to get anything done with nosey people looming around every corner? Will missed the 'good old days' when it was easier to have unexplained deaths. Science and the human need to know everything was making his life harder than what need be.

He looked at the newcomer in annoyance. The man that had just come through the door didn't notice Will and his new friend--he was far too busy avoiding the dumpster.

The young man was obviously drunk. He staggered past the dumpster with a bottle of liquor in hand, narrowly avoiding ramming into the sharp corner. Then he vanished. A retching noise drifted from behind the dumpster, followed by some creative cursing.

Will tilted his head to the side in interest as the drunkard reappeared, leaning on the dumpster for support.

'Last bloody time I get drunk...,' muttered the man and he shoved himself forward and staggered toward the main street. He paused momentarily.

Will narrowed his eyes. He didn't feel like chasing someone down at the moment for a pointless kill.

Fortunately for them both, the drunk had realized he was still holding the half empty bottle and took a swig before continuing on his way, oblivious of the eyes that watched him.

The corner of Will's mouth twitched to a smirk. It was interesting of how quickly and easily humans broke their promises. Especially to themselves.

In his hold, Alice stirred. Her vision refocused and she looked around. Her neck ached with each movement. She looked up at Will, and after careful contemplation, she decided that his lips were a little too red for her liking. The fact that a drip of crimson stained a line from the corner of his mouth to his chin did not put her at ease.

Will returned his attention to her in time to see her open her mouth in horror.

Alice let out a squeak before being silenced by a deafening 'crack.'

Will watched as her lifeless body sagged to the ground. A soft glint from her wrist caught his eye. He knelt beside her and lifted her hand. Closer examination showed that Alice's wrist was decorated with a thin silver chain. Supposed to be a charm bracelet, its late owner had only bothered in purchasing two cheap charms for it. Will slipped it from her wrist and pocketed the chain. It would probably fetch a pretty penny in about fifty years.

He stood and dusted off his trousers. He gave one last look around the alley and left.

In the morning, it would be roped off and an investigation would be underway. Within a week, Alice's pimp had been arrested for her death. True, he was innocent and was genuinely surprised to find out that his favorite little hooker was dead. He'd been suspected of other crimes and murders, but the police never had a body or proper evidence to trace back to him. Very little effort went into an actual investigation. To them, Alice Dumott's corpse was a morbid godsend.


James Norrington sat behind his desk filling out paperwork. As much as he liked the convenience of Alice's death putting an evil man behind bars, something just didn't sit right. For one, there were the strange markings that adorned her neck. He mentioned it to his wife, and she said, as plain as the sky is blue, that Alice was attacked by a vampire. And good riddance.

He flipped through the pages of his report. The bar the girl's body was found behind was The Charred Flamingo. James tried to place his finger on why it sounded so familiar. He ran his thumb over the corners of the papers, wearing them down in his attempt to remember.

'Sir?'

James was pulled from his thoughts by the receptionist summoning him. 'Yes?'

'I have a man on the line wishing to speak with you,' she replied. 'He says he's,' she paused, stifling the laugh that threatened to surface, 'Wonder Woman.' She lost the battle and erupted into a fit of giggles.

James sighed and looked out the window. 'I'll take it,' he said at length and picked up the phone. 'What is it, Jack?'

'Well excuse me for upholding my end of the bargain,' Jack said. A soft typing could be heard from his side of the line.

James looked longingly out the office window. A bird was perched on a branch just outside, chirping merrily to itself. James felt like it was taunting him. Ever since his promotion out of Cubical Land, he was beginning to loathe windows with cheery exterior shots.

'I'm under a lot of stress right now. I'm having to tie up some loose ends, and nothing seems to be going right.'

'Sounds like you need a drink, mate,' said Jack. 'Tell you what; I'll take you out for a couple of drinks after work. Your treat.'

'Thanks, but no, thanks.'

'Come on. I know this great place--maybe you've heard of it? The Charred Flamingo? I know the owner.'

James straightened in his chair. How could he forget about his bar fly of a friend? Of course Jack would have heard of the bar. 'Were you there Friday around midnight?' James asked.

Jack paused in his typing and tried to remember. 'Maybe. Why?'

'Didn't you hear? There was a murder just outside the backdoor.'

'Now that you mention it, I think I was there. Left through the backdoor come to think of it.'

'Did you see anything strange?' James asked, trying to prod what could be the answer to all his questions from Jack.

'I was pleasantly plastered. I don't think I could remember anything significant even if I wanted to.'

Asking for a sober Jack late at night was asking for too much. 'Do you at least have any useful information?'

'No. Things have been pretty dead on my end lately.' He stopped in his typing again and asked, 'What would you do if I changed your desktop wallpaper?'

'Can you do that?' James glanced uneasily at his computer screen. What used to be a picture of his wedding was replaced by a kitten being chased by what appeared to be a fuzzy chocolate bar with arms. The quote warned him about the hazards of masturbating. 'Guess that answers that question. Change it back.'

'But wedding pictures are so boring. How about one of Lizbeth?'

'That would generally be more agreeable.'

The background switched. True to his word, it was of Elizabeth. From the bunny outfit she wore, it was evident that it was taken during last year's Halloween party. She was bent over, retrieving a fallen cup from the floor. She smiled seductively up at the camera. James assumed Jack was responsible for the photo--only Jack could convince Elizabeth to stick her butt in the air with a come hither look.

'I would very much appreciate it if you were to never take another picture of by wife's backside,' James said and changed the background.

'I can't help it if she's got a cute ass. Besides, Anna suggested the pose.'

James rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. The chirping bird had left. 'And I suppose that you have another photograph along the same theme that involves Anna?'

'You know me too well,' Jack said with a chuckle.

'No, I know my wife.'


Elizabeth Swann-Norrington sat across her kitchen table from Annamaria. She stared at the Tarot cards in slight confusion. Something was off about them in every way she looked at it.

'Think you might need a book for this one,' Annamaria commented, sharing Elizabeth's puzzlement.

Elizabeth nodded numbly. 'Jack's readings have never been easy,' she said.

'Especially when he's in the room,' Annamaria added.

'And they're always so messed up!'

'It's because he drinks himself into a stupor every night. All that booze and smoke isn't good for a person's aura.'

Elizabeth looked back the Tarot spread and sighed. 'Why do I have the feeling that even if I took out the Tower, it would still show up?' she said morosely and gathered the cards.


Will left his apartment for the night. Now that Alice Dumott's death was old news, he would have no problems with wandering around the city. He passed by a small internet café and went in for a look. Half the occupants were Gothed up to the max. Perhaps he'd be able to find one of those 'donors' that thought vampirism was all fun and game. Even if was just a few shallow cuts made with razors, it usually included a sexual partner for some time.

Ever since science and reason had taken over the world, vampire was just another word for kinky. Sadomasochist was just an excuse to draw blood. During his lifetime, Will had been labeled as many things. These newer terms seemed more flattering and more widely accepted than the older labels.

He sat in a darkened corner and observed the people that came and went as the night passed. It was getting close to midnight, and Will had since then flirted with ten people, five of which had given him their phone number. He was about ready to head somewhere else when a young man came in and took one of the empty tables near him.

He was a rather attractive young man in his early twenties. His hair was shoulder length and appeared to be a dark brown in the low light. He wore the stereotypical college student attire: whatever smelled cleaned.

The waitress came by and dropped off a drink in front of him. 'Made special just for you, Jack,' she said with a wink.

Jack grinned up at her and plugged in his laptop. 'Thanks, Missy.'

She eyed Jack's laptop as it loaded. 'You've never been caught, right?' she asked.

'I have no idea what you mean,' he replied innocently.

'I think you do. My brother's into that sort of thing. He speaks highly of you. Or at least of your alias,' she said with a smirk. 'So answer the question.'

'Only once,' he admitted. 'And that was on purpose, so it doesn't count.'

Missy sighed and left Jack to his devices, muttering about boys.

Jack tried to give his laptop his undivided attention, but it wasn't easy as he had the distinct feeling of being watched. He thought better to ignore it.

As Will stared at Jack, he couldn't help noticing that there was something familiar about him. He tilted his head to the side in thought. The image of Jack bent over behind a dumpster came to mind. His eyes lit up in amusement. Perhaps the night wasn't so lost after all. He stood and made his way over to Jack. He pulled a seat up to the table and sat across from him.

'Hello,' he said.

Jack looked up at the rich voice. He was greeted by a pair of lustful brown eyes. They seemed to sparkle in the dark lighting of the café. 'Um, hello?' He gave Will an uneasy smile.

'May I inquire as to what you are doing?' Will asked.

'Nothing important,' Jack said as he subconsciously pulled his laptop closer to him. 'Nothing interesting.'

Will leaned closer and looked deep into Jack's eyes. 'I think you're lying. Come on, you can tell me,' he said silkily.

Jack felt as if he should tell Will. Something was wearing at his barriers, telling him to give up his will, but something else embedded in his memory stopped him. That something else squished the first something like an insect, grabbed his will and made a run for the border.

Will was a little too close for comfort, and then there was the look in his eyes that said he had ulterior motives. 'I have to go now,' Jack said as he looked away. He quickly unplugged and closed his laptop. He gave Will an apologetic smile and left hurriedly.

Will watched in confusion as Jack retreated. He'd never had that happen before. Never, in all his years of being a vampire, had his prey resisted his advances. As he left the café, he wondered if he was losing his touch. He wasn't that old. Five hundred is not that old. Besides, vampires become more powerful with age. Right?

'Heya, cute stuff!' a hooker called from the corner of a building as Will passed.

He glanced at her then the nearby intersection. 'Do me a favor,' he said, 'go stand in the middle of the road.'

The hooker's eyes glazed over and she walked into the street. She stopped when she reached the center. A few cars whizzed by her, horns blaring. She remained unaffected and stared straight ahead.

Will waved her off and headed back to his apartment to contemplate how Jack could resist him.

The hooker looked around herself in bewilderment. She ran back to her corner, nearly becoming a stain on the pavement.


Jack slammed his door closed behind him. He set his laptop on the kitchen counter and fetched himself a bottle of rum. He set the bottle down and glared at it. He had the feeling that even if he got himself drunk, he'd still remember the man that approached him in the café. He was very good looking, but he gave off a creepy vibe. He picked up the bottle again, intent on at least forgetting said vibe.

Jack sunk onto his couch and turned on the TV. It was depressing of how much he let the past get to him. He wished he could go back to the café and try again with the stranger. He seemed nice enough.

'He seemed nice enough, too,' Jack reminded himself.

He shuddered involuntarily and gulped down half the bottle.

AN II: And so ends part one. DM=Dungeon Master (Dungeons and Dragons term). Masquerade=RPG vampire game. Yeah.