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Title: Crossing Stakes
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Ray/Ray
Rating: PG
Word count: 610
Summary: What if Ray and Ray were vampire hunters instead of cops?
Notes: Commentfic for mrs_laugh_track based on the what-if comic she made me. Unbeta'd.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I'm not making any money off this.

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[Backstory: Fraser and Kowalski were up North searching for Franklin's Hand of Glory, but then Kowalski got cold and came back to Chicago to slay vampires again with Vecchio. Fraser and Dief stayed in the North to hunt the furry white demons humans call "polar bears."]

"Augh! Get away from me, you're getting blood on my suit!" Ray punched his vampire attacker in the face, and then kicked him in the shins for good measure, trying to buy himself enough time to pull the stake out of his back pocket. "I need to get a bigger goddamn cross," he muttered. "Fuck sentimental value."

"Die, Vampire Hunter!" the vampire said, landing rather a hard punch in Ray's gut.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, who writes your dialogue?" Ray wheezed, bringing up his stake. He was about to finish off this asshole (which, yeah, meant getting vampire dust on his suit, which did not wash out, although Fraser said he was working on that, he thought that werewolf slobber might be the key) when another one came out of nowhere and twisted his arm behind his back, holding him in place.

Vampire #1 advanced. "Prepare to meet your destiny," he said self-importantly. Well, shit.

"Vecchio!" he heard from way too far away.

"About time you showed up, Kowalski!" Ray yelled. "Do something!"

"Just let me find my glasses!" Kowalski yelled back.

Ray twisted around so he could see behind Vampire #2's back, ignoring the shooting pains in his shoulder. Kowalski had his crossbow shoved under one arm and was fumbling in his jacket pocket. "Hurry it up!" Ray yelled as Vampire #1 tried to work up the nerve to rip his cross off. The loser kept reaching out purposefully and then going, "Ow!" and jerking his hand back. It was embarrassing.

"Now, Vecchio!" Kowalski yelled. Ray kicked backwards and jerked his arm out of Vampire #2's grip, rolling away in time to see Kowalski do a backflip and shoot both of them right in the heart.

No dust even got on Ray's suit. It was a miracle. He got to his feet. "Was that backflip really necessary? Wait, let me answer my own question: no, it was not. You are such a show-off, Kowalski."

Kowalski sauntered over. "And this is the thanks I get for saving your life."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Like I didn't save yours last week when you dropped your glasses and stepped on them and instead of just staking the vamps you got down on your knees and started looking for the pieces."

"Hey, these things are expensive!" Kowalski said defensively, taking his glasses back off and hanging then on the neck of his t-shirt. Ray swallowed as the slight tug bared an extra inch of throat and made the fabric of the shirt momentarily cling to Kowalski's chest. "It's not like optical is so great in this job. Next contract, I swear--"

"Yeah, maybe we can get a dry-cleaning stipend, too," Ray said. "I swear half my salary goes just to that."

"Style pig," Kowalski said softly. "You got some blood on you." He licked his thumb and rubbed at a spot on Ray's neck.

"Tell me about it," Ray said unsteadily.

"Hey, is that a stake in your pants or are you just happy to see me?" Kowalski sniggered.

"What are you, 12?" Ray cuffed him lightly on the side of the head. "And yeah, I'm happy to see you. So get your ass over here in those ridiculous leather pants and do something about it. Who dresses like that, anyway?"

"You love my leather pants," Kowalski said with a cocky grin, and okay, Ray did.