From a whole new perspective

BY : JessiKillyLover
Category: -Movies Misc > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 117
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of 'Fright Night' of course and I'm making no money out of it.

This movie has particularly bewitched me. I would have liked more Jerry&Peter scenes, more focus on Peter’s background … so, if something does not exist… just invent it!
To be honest, it started with this prompt I’ve seen years ago (And I’ve also read the one-shot inspired by this prompt, very well done, but I guess it’s sort of different from my idea… I hope so at least ^^ ) :

‘Peter doesn't manage to escape the night Jerry killed his parents, but the Vampire decides to keep him instead of killing him to raise him and turn him in the future. Years later, Jerry and his still-human-Peter (who knows his days as human are coming to an end) move to Vegas and Charley meets a mentally unstable Peter, and he can't get him out of his mind...’

Well, I took inspiration only by the first part of the prompt, which gave me the idea for something that overturns everything!
Do you want to know how? Just read. But, be warned, you won’t find fluff this time…

Prologue: Just like a superhero

He finished to unload the last boxes in his pick-up and breathed – and he didn’t even need to breathe – the typical air of the coming winter.
Jerry adored that time of the year, days became so short that, just by 4:00 p.m. the sun was already on its (annoying) way. And he was free to act.

More time to explore the places, more time to know the neighborhood, more time to socialize.
More time to have some snack and, why not? If there was the proper chance, also to create a new clan.

The slayers in Ohio hadn’t played softball with his previous one, some years before.
Sure, Jerry’s terrible revenge on them had come like a rush, but then he had decided it was better to get away.

He liked Somerset, there was full of greenery, even with a water fall, the most suitable goal for love pairing, maybe the ones at their very first date.
That adrenaline would make their blood taste even better.

Yep, Jerry had decided that his first hunt in that town would have been there. He just needed to change his clothes and then…

A noise interrupted his thoughts. Not a threatening one. More a like a football blow.
And indeed there was a ball, coming in his direction, rolling until it ended up below the wheels of his pick-up.
Jerry bent down to observe it better.
It wasn’t a professional soccer player ball.
It was more like a beach ball. Blue. With Superman’s pictures all over it.
Only a child could have such a ball.

And yet Jerry knew for sure that in the neighborhood there was no family with kids, only students – mostly schoolgirls, for his own pleasure - , some serially single men and some old people who could have been useful in case there wasn’t anything (or rather anyone) more appealing on the menu.

So the main question was: where did that ball come from?

And the answer came, in the shape of a messy, brown/blond forelock, belonging to an even more disheveled little head who peeped out from behind a parked car at the other side of the road.

 “Sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to… I’m coming to take it back!” the owner of that disheveled head warned him. He carefully watched the road from side to side, before crossing it.


Jerry saw the figure of a skinny child coming towards him. He seemed to drown in that black quilted jacket, probably two sizes bigger.
He couldn’t be more than eight years old.
Without any small talk, the kid sneaked under the big, parked vehicle, drawing his ball out.

“Please, forgive me, Sir, I’m really sorry.” he said, opening wide his big, dark brown eyes that looked guilty.
“Don’t worry, kid, nothing happened. And don’t call me Sir! It makes me feel old.” Jerry ordered, maybe way too rudely.
He may be even almost four-hundred years old, but he was very touchy about the age issue.

“Okay, Si…” the child replied without thinking, but he stopped in time, almost biting his own tongue. “Okay…”
He stopped, hoping that the other could sense that implicit question.
“Jerry.” the other replied. “And who are you?” he asked him, without even knowing why.


Oh, c’mon! He had so many things to do. Evil, extremely evil things. He surely didn’t have time to waste with a whelp!
“I’m Peter and I didn’t mean to get you angry. I never want to make anyone angry … but I always do everything wrong…” the child grumbled, desperate, hugging tight his beach ball as it was his only true friend.

His words and his behavior had impressed Jerry, a lot. He observed the kid better: those big, so expressive eyes didn’t reflect the typical light-heartedness a child of that age is supposed to have.

“Hey, little boy, it’s getting dark, shouldn’t you go back home?” he asked him, casually.
“I’m not little! I’m already eight years old!” the child corrected him, a little disappointed.

It seems that both of them were pretty touchy about the age issue.

“However… I don’t like going back home… “ he added. His tone of voice had become lower and trembling and he had tensed up all of a sudden. “Could… could I stay here for a while again? I can be still and silent if you want, but please, let me stay…” he insisted, turning pale just at the thought of a possible rejection.


Jerry had already started to have a terrible suspect and after sniffing better the air around he had the confirmation.
That kid smelled of something that tried to hide a fear that can arise only from a trauma too horrible to admit.
Jerry had done countless of atrocities during his long existence; he had touched unspeakable abysses, peaks of shocking violence.
For example, if his current interlocutor had been at least twice as old, he would become Jerry’s dinner in a heartbeat.
But it was only a child and to Jerry children were taboo. He would never harm a hair on them and he couldn’t bear just the thought of someone hurting such a pretty little thing like the kid who was talking to him.
He just needed to figure out who was the responsible of such a horrifying delict; even if he had already excluded a teacher or a relative.
No, it must have been someone damn closer to Peter.

He approached carefully to the child, until he was just one step closer.
He bent down on his knees to reach more or less his same height, in order to be less intimidating. To be honest, Jerry had the odd feeling that Peter wasn’t intimidated at all.

“How can you desire to stay here? It’s almost night, this creepy house would give goosebumps to anyone and I am a total stranger to you! Didn’t your mom and your dad teach you that you shouldn’t talk with strangers?”

Peter tensed up even more and the fact did not escape to his analyzer’s century-old eyes.
Bingo! Jerry thought.
Peter would have liked to tell him that, yes; he thought that there with him was pleasant. Despite the dark, grey, gloomy house.
He would have liked to tell him that sometimes a nice little villa with salmon-pink walls, with a porch decorated with flowers and the birds singing happily on the trees all around can be a way scarier location.
He would have liked to tell him about how his bedroom could turn into the frightful place ever; with his toys and stuffed animals on the shelves that seemed to stare at him impotently, sadly and helpless while he was suffering the worst humiliations possible. And nonetheless just from whom should be supposed to protect you – at least for the role they play – from all the evil outside.
Truth is that all the evil is already inside that room, and you can’t do nothing but wondering what you ever did so terrible to deserve such a hideous treatment.
But sometimes words are unnecessary and this was the case, because Jerry got the message, loud and clear, from those child’s eyes.
“Can I…?” the adult murmured, with such a sweet tone he didn’t even know he had.
The kid immediately figured out what he wanted to do and anticipated him, taking off his winter coat, remaining only with a T-shirt with rolled sleeves that revealed even too much.

Jerry had to resort to all his self-control not to growl when he saw all the bruises all over his bony arms. Besides, the large neckline revealed that on the collarbone there also was a reddish mark, like a buckle.
“They don’t do only this to you, Peter… do they?” Jerry stared deep into the child’s eyes, before putting the winter coat back on him.
The kid confined himself to shaking his head negatively, with very slow movements.
Jerry rapidly changed his plans for the night.
All the love pairings at the Cumberland Lake would have enjoyed some other days of life.

“I’m going to bring you back home!” Jerry offered, taking him by the hand.
“No!” Peter yelled, trying to break free.
He could have run away, if Jerry had not held him still, gabbing his shoulders, but without harming him.
Nope. Jerry could have never ever harmed him.

“Peter, listen to me, they won’t do anything to you, anymore. I won’t let them! But you have to trust me and show me where your house is. Do you trust me?”

The child stopped wriggling and stared at him, deeply, in silence, for a long time.
Something in his black eyes, as dark as night, something in his look, something in his crooked but genuine smile told Peter that, yes, he could trust Jerry.

Peter looked once more for his hand; with the other hand he grabbed his beach ball as they walked.
They crossed roads, walked though blocks, they turned left at the last roundabout and finally Peter indicated to Jerry which his house was.

Jerry could hardly believe that such a little kid had walked so far from home, all on his own.
He really must have had the desire of getting as far away as he could from that place.
“Okay, now you have seen my house. Can we go now?” Peter wavered.
“Nope, Peter. If I have taken you to this house it’s because I want you to go there…”
“Noooo!” was the immediate child’s disappointed answer.
“I have my reasons if I ask you so.  I won’t abandon you, don’t worry. But you have to get inside. If things turn ugly again, just call me and invite me in. I can be your superhero, coming and rescuing you from trouble. Just like the one on your beach ball!” Jerry smiled at Peter, making him smile as well.
“Will you come to rescue me for real if I call you?” Peter asked for confirmation, filled with a new hope.
“I gave you my word. Now go and don’t be afraid of anything, anymore!” Jerry urged him.

With tentative steps, Peter did as he had been told, while Jerry lurked in the dark.
That was one of the things he could do better than anyone else.
He stared with growing rage at the plate near the bell, with the written ‘The Vincents’, he could perfectly see it even from afar.
He just had to wait, as patient as possible.

Peter had crossed the threshold of his house and he had already lost his grip on his beach ball, finding the usual scenery, more or less, waiting for him.

“Do yaa think thiss issh the time to cooome back, ya, wretched son?” his father slurred, already drunk, as always, holding the umpteenth bottle of that evening.

His mother didn’t say anything, she was too engrossed setting on the table that odd white dust. Peter often saw her dealing with that he just wondered what was so pleasant about sniffing that dust.
When she did that things could end up in two ways: she became very violent towards Peter or – and that’s even worse - very affectionate.

“Peeetah, ya’re the ruin of thissh family, an usshless mouth to feeeed! And insshtead of thanking us, what do ya do? Ya just doo what ya please, but  nooo way, it doesn’t work like thiish. How many lessons do I have to still give ya?” his father snapped, pulling the belt out of his trousers. He staggered towards Peter who kept backing off, with his back against the wall.
His mother just watched the whole scene laughing, while she rolled up a banknote of ten dollars.

Jerry, please, come in, Jerry, please, come in, Jerry, please, come in.

Peter never knew for sure if he had said that aloud or if he had just wished it with all his soul, but it was a matter of only few seconds.
The glasses of the winter shattered with a big noise and a dark figure jumped in. His growls had nothing human, just like his features.
His black eyes had absorbed even the pupil, expanding along the sclera.
His teeth had elongated and now they were as razor sharps.
Peter’s parents tried to escape but their senses were numb, who for one reason, who for the other.
But even if they had been Olympic athletes, they would have had not even half chance against Jerry.


There were screams. There was pain. There was blood. And there was death.

And during this short but relevant amount of time, Peter watched them all time long, without shedding a single tear.
He just felt relief, and a new founded sense of freedom, and he felt so grateful to Jerry. He had come and rescued him, defeating the bad guys, just like a superhero.
Sure, maybe not one of the most classical superheroes. The superhero was a monster himself … or maybe not.
That evening, hearing those screams, figuring out that his nightmares were finally over, little Peter saw only a superhero.

His superhero.
That’s why he didn’t have any trouble to approach to Jerry, now back to his human features, but still covered with blood that he was licking off his hand, with ill-concealed satisfaction.
He was still engrossed in his activity that his vampire senses weren’t fully on alert, that’s why he didn’t realise that he had a certain someone’s eyes on him.

And he was even more puzzled when said certain someone hugged him, with a tiny voice, still far from puberty, whispering to him just two words, on repeat.
“Thank you.”
Jerry parted from him, as gently as possible, in order to stare into his eyes.
“How can you be not afraid of me?” he asked him, dumbfounded.

The child’s answer surprised him even more.
“I was afraid before you!”
And that’s the moment when Jerry took his decision, maybe the craziest one of all his life and un-life, but certainly one he would have never repent for.

“Come with me, Peter Vincent, I’ll take care of you!”

TBC



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