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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG. Ref. to incest.
Pairing: Sands/El, Sands/Jean-François de Morangias.
Feedback: Is good stuff. Slightly addictive, but hey, mostly harmless.
Disclaimer: Erk. Not mine.
Notes: Brotherhood of the Wolf/'Mexico' crossover, but takes place in the 'Gatekeeper'-verse. Title means: "Man is a wolf to man." Translations of French upon request. Squirrel from fey_puck.
Summary: Before they ran across Abberline, what did Sands and El do?
***
Even in his fever-dreams, his arm was gone. It was a cruel, cruel joke.
Most of the time, he remembered his sister's cool hands and her sparkling eyes, made even more brilliant by the heat-shimmers shaking his vision. Her red curls, dyed with the sunset. But once, it had shaded black. Black as-no, blacker than hell.
Except for two glinting chips the color of ox horn. Ox bone. They were the same, after all.
"Mon pauvre," cooed the unseen jeerer as fingers drifted down his cheek, into his shirt collar. Burning like fire. "Lost something, have we?"
"Salaud-get thee behind me-" Something suddenly loomed up behind the flash of smirk, startling Jean-François into silence. They were men. He thought.
The one snuggled back into the other, mocking chuckle still reverberating around the vastness. Three long flickers faded to two arms that held a dripping wolf's pelt, fresh from the skinning. "This is yours, you know. Putain de Dieu. But there's still time to change, if you've the stomach for it. Your sister-"
"Stay away from her, you demon," Jean-François hissed, trying to thrash his way toward the first visitor's throat. "She's-she's an angel-she's-"
"Yours," sighed the second visitor, final and resigned. "Your end."
And then he was thrown back to the sweat-sodden bed and the shockingly vivid colors of sickness. Jean-François gasped for air, for warmth, and found none as he twisted himself into the sheets.
***